You'll want to do your hair a bit
different and let your beard grow, and then, if you pay attention
to the lessons I shall give you, in a week or two, you'll be this
chap here," and he tapped the photograph in his hand, "to the
life."
So saying he handed Desmond the photograph. It was the portrait
of a man about forty years of age, of rather a pronounced
Continental type, with a short brown beard, a straight, rather
well-shaped nose and gold-rimmed spectacles. His hair was cut en
brosse, and he was rather full about the throat and neck. Without
a word, Desmond stretched out his hand and gathered up a sheaf of
other photos, police photos of Mr. Basil Bellward, front face and
profile seen from right and left, all these poses shown on the
same picture, some snapshots and various camera studies. Desmond
shook his head in despair. He was utterly unable to detect the
slightest resemblance between himself and this rather commonplace
looking type of business man.
"Now if you'd just step into the compartment at the end of the
Pullman, Major," said Crook, "you'll find some civilian clothes
laid out. Would you mind putting them on? You needn't trouble
about the collar and tie, or coat and waistcoat for the moment.
Then we'll get along with the work.
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