you're more than five feet and ten inches, aren't you?"
"Five feet, eleven. But that's near enough. What was the fellow's name, by the way?"
"He had two or three names. Edward Hurley was one of them, and another was Crowell, and—I don't remember the other."
"Fenney," supplied Perry subduedly.
"Ha!" Mr. Addicks arose from the table on which he had been seated, thrust his hands into his pockets and walked to the window. The boys exchanged expressive glances. After a moment's silent contemplation of the twilit world outside Mr. Addicks turned back.
"How do you suppose they found out?" he asked, in a low voice.
Fudge shook his head. "Maybe you left off your disguise some time, sir."
"My—my what?"
"Disguise; the mustache, sir."
"Oh, yes, the mustache. That's it, I guess."
"Yes, sir, you didn't have it on when you came in just now, you know."
"Careless!" sighed Mr. Addicks. "No wonder they spotted me. Well, what must be must be, boys!" He sank into a chair with a gesture of surrender. "I guess it's all up, hombres."
217
