n very obliging," he continued, "and, I suppose, that's why I
feel I can impose on you further. I confide in you, as you did in me. I'm
going back to the Brevord now. Could you follow me and take a look at a
man who'll be with me there?"

The Jew's eyes sparkled.

"Yes, Mr. Braceway," he said and added: "It may cost me money, closing up
the shop, you understand. But if I can help----"

"Don't misunderstand me," the detective cautioned. "There's no charge of
murder. Nothing like that. This fellow may be the gold-tooth man, and
still not be the guilty man."

"I see; I see," Abrahamson's tone was one of importance. "You go on, Mr.
Braceway. I'll follow in three minutes."

"If the man I'm with is the one who wore the disguise, if he looks more
like it than Mr. Withers did, make no sign. If he's not the fellow
communicate with me later--as soon as you can."

Morley was the first person Braceway saw when he entered the lobby of the
hotel. He lost no time, but crossed over to the leather settee on which
the young man sat. Morley looked haggard and frightened, and, although he
held a newspaper in front of him, was gazing into space.

Braceway decided to "take a chance." He had a great respect for his
intuitions. These "hunches," he had found, were sometimes of no value,
but they had helped him often enough to make the ideas that came to him
in this way worth trying. He introduced himself.

"I was wondering," he said, sitting down beside Morley, "if you couldn't
help me out in a little matter."

Morley sighed and put down his paper before he answered:

"What is it?"

"Something about make-ups--facial make-up."

Morley looked at him and felt that the detective's eyes bored into him.

"What about make-up?"

"I had the idea--perhaps I got it from George Withers--that you used to
be interested in a matter of theatricals."

Morley coloured.

"Yes. That is," he qualified, "I was a member of the dramatic club when
I was in college, University of Pennsylvania. But I didn't know Withers
knew anything about it."

Braceway's demeanour now was casual. His eyes were no longer on Morley.
He was watching Abrahamson, who was at the news-stand near the main
entrance.

"I thought George had mentioned it to me, but I may be mistaken. Did you
ever 'make up' with a beard?"

The morning papers had got hold of the suspicion of some of the
authorities that a man wearing a brown beard and a gold tooth was wanted
because of the m