A THEATRICAL MAKE-UP
We leave America for England, and turn back in our history a week or
so--to Wimbledon and The Elms on the night of Gerald's adventure there.
The police and Gerald are in the passage by the front door, and a
haggard faced man is crouched below the steps listening.
He hears all that Gerald says, and his fury rises to white heat as he
realizes by his late clerk's reticence that he is not a detective at
all!
No policeman would speak as he speaks--concealing the facts from other
officers.
The police and Gerald go away. Indelibly printed on the lawyer's memory
is his late clerk's address.
Loide breaks into his own house, and sleeps that night on the bed he had
left up-stairs.
Early as Gerald leaves Wimbledon next morning, Loide has left it before
him.
The lawyer has profited in his former lesson in make up.
He remembers that in the Waterloo Road there are two or three theatrical
shops. He waits about till they are open, and then enters one.
"You will be surprised at what I want," he says to the man in the shop,
"and perhaps you will not be able to give it to me."
"What is it, sir?"
"I want such a complete disguise that my own son will not know me."
"Your son!"
"Yes. It's a ghastly thing for a father to have to confess, but I
suspect my son of having robbed me. I want to find out if it is so. If
so, I shall ship him abroad.
"I dare not place the matter in the hands of the police, because, if my
suspicions are confirmed, I should have to prosecute--that I cannot do,
for his mother's sake alone."
"But how will you manage to----"
"I have thought it all out. We have just discharged our old caretaker at
the warehouse. I have given out that I am going abroad, and I propose to
be the new caretaker for a week or so."
"For a week! You can't expect make up to last a week."
"You think the disguise is impossible?"
"Well, no----"
"See here, I have false teeth. Now they are out you see what a
difference it makes."
"Yes, you're right; pinches in your cheeks, and brings your nose and
chin nearer. A good wig----"
"I wear one now. I propose not to wear one at all. I am quite bald at
top. Can you color the fringe of hair round?"
"Color wouldn't stand for a week; besides, in daylight it would be
seen."
"There is no way, then?"
"Yes; if you don't mind it."
"What is it?"
"Bleach it--won't take five minutes--bleach what you have, and your
bushy eyebrows whitened and trimmed will make all the difference in the
world."
"Good."
"But, mind, you will have to dye it black again when you want to return
to your own color."
"That's all right. Can you suggest anything else?"
"Yes. Your skin is white--'London tint' we call it--that can be stained
a darker color--'country tint' our name for it. Complexion is a big
factor in a make up."
"I understand."
"If you don't mind a little pain, we can alter your nose. This little
thing put up the nostril distends one side, and contracts the other."
"Good."
"Bodily--you don't mind walking lame?"
"Don't mind anything so long as the disguise is effective."
"Elevators in your boots raise you three inches in height, and a club
boot will cause you to walk altogether differently."
"I see."
"A hump on your back, and a pair of tinted glasses will complete the
thing. It would need a very close observer to detect you."
"The voice is the only thing----"
"Need not trouble you. This little thing fixes like the plate of false
teeth in the roof of the mouth. Stage dudes wear them. Speak slowly, and
you'll find yourself--unconsciously--lisping and stammering. The nose
distender adds a little twangy, nasal sound, and it's your own fault if
your voice gives you away."
"All sounds good. Can you take me in hand now?"
"Walk in."
Terms were discussed and settled, and for an hour Loide was under the
shopkeeper's hands.
At the expiration of that time he looked in the glass. He started back
in amazement.
Truly had he had a son, that son would scarcely have recognized him. He
would have been a wise child to know his own father in that disguise.
"The advantage of this, you see," said the make up man, "is that it is
what we call a 'daylight get up.' You needn't be afraid of it rubbing
off. It'll last. You'll look the same this day week as you look now. It
will be more than a week before that stain begins to wear off. Now, try
the coat."
Several coats were tried before a fit to suit the shopman was arrived
at, and then he gave it out to one of his men with directions.
Meanwhile boots were tried on.
"You will find the height and the club boot strange at first."
"If I look as I feel with these elevators on, I must appear to be a
giant."
The shopman laughed.
"It makes a big change. Walk round the shop for five minutes so as to
get used to them. Coat ready? Now try this on. That will do, I think.
Put on these tinted specs, and you're complete."
Once more Loide looked in the mirror. His bent appearance altered his
shape as much as the shopman's art had altered his face--he felt
absolutely satisfied.
Having paid the bill, he left the shop, and started walking towards the
bridge; but he did not walk far--he would have been lame in reality--he
hailed a hansom.
The direction he gave the driver was the main road, in a street off
which Gerald was lodging.
Reaching the end of it he alighted, paid his fare, and boldly walked to
No. 9--the number Gerald had given to the police.
It was an ordinary lodging house, and the lawyer was pleased to see a
bill in the window, bearing the legend, "Bed for Single Gentleman."
He knocked at the door. He was after that bed.
Yes, the landlady was in, said the girl; would he step inside and wait a
minute?
He stepped. The landlady came; she quoted her terms for a bedroom for a
week.
Would the gentleman like to see it? The gentleman would--and did.
The second floor was devoted to bedrooms. Loide approved of the one
shown him.
He commented on the fact that the tenant of the next room slept late, as
his boots were still outside his door; and with a darkened brow the
landlady replied to the effect that those who stopped out all night
usually slept late the next day.
Loide's heart beat quicker--he guessed the boots were Gerald's.
He was sleeping in the next room, sleeping there with nineteen thousand
pounds in his possession.
In the next room--there were possibilities. Loide smiled pleasantly, and
his heart felt lightened.
He paid a deposit, and said that if the landlady would get him a chop
that would be all he would require till supper.
He was left alone.
Turning the key in the lock he carefully felt the walls separating him
from the adjoining room--as he suspected, lath and plaster! Presently he
heard some one moving in there, heard distinctly through the thin wall.
Then the door was opened, and the boots taken in. Gerald was going out.
He went. Ear to crack in the door, the lawyer heard the man he was so
anxious about speak to the landlady on the next floor, saying he would
return in about two hours' time, and would she get him a steak and
potatoes for then.
Two hours! There would be time.
The lawyer stood on his bed and took down from its nail a framed and
highly colored statement to the effect that The Way of the Transgressor
is Hard.
On that part of the wall the frame had covered he operated with his
pocket-knife.
Stripping the paper, he cut away plaster and laths till he could see the
back of the paper of the adjoining chamber.
He sighed with satisfaction. His task was over.
He did not care how soon Gerald came back. He would have his eye on
him.