The Man With the Mole/Chapter 9

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2688940The Man With the Mole — 9. Jim FarrellJ. Allan Dunn

CHAPTER IX.

JIM FARRELL.

I HAD to keep you out of the know, Sperry,” said Farrell later, now thoroughly identified as the head of a famous agency. “You might have tipped the thing off. As for the disguise—or the camouflage, that was easy, though Curly would have bumped me on general resemblance if you hadn’t been Johnny on the spot. I’ve got a bald head, which is handy for wigs fitting properly. As Farrell I wear one. My front teeth are bad, and when I had one bridge made, Tong ago, I had some others finished up in various style. The mole was easy, letting the whiskers sprout to make it more natural.

“You’ve helped a lot without knowing it. Of course Bess was wise. We have few secrets between us.” He grinned knowingly at Sperry.

“Now everything will be straightened out. I don’t think your stepfather damaged your mother’s property, and as for her, I took occasion to let her know by way of headquarters that her boy was no rascal, if her second husband was. Also I had the Comet tipped off to smooth matters for the climax. I fancy, from the reports, that your mother was rather relieved to have Cairns uncovered. She wants you to go to her, though I’m afraid your appearance will startle her. But I suppose you’ll not wait for a little thing like that to stop you.”

“I’m glad she knows about things,” said Sperry. “I want to see her badly, but there’s some one else I’d like to see first, if you don’t mind.”

“Who’s that?” asked Farrell, no longer the Man with the Mole, lighting a cigar.

“You’re not such a good detective, after all,” said Sperry. “It’s Elizabeth.”

“Lord bless my soul, you don’t say so?” There was a twinkle in Farrell’s eyes. “I rather fancy she’s expecting both of us to dinner. You can’t go to the Isle of Pines by railroad, Sperry, and the next steamer doesn’t sail for a couple of days. I’ve got some details to attend to. Perhaps you had better go ahead. No need to take anything but short cuts this trip, my boy.”

But Sperry was gone and Farrell laid down his cigar with a laugh.

“Not such a good detective after, all!” he said softly. “Does he think I’m blind?”