"Holmes!" I exclaimed. "You here! But where is the old
man?"
"Here is the old man," said he, holding out a heap of white
hair. "Here he is -- wig, whiskers, eyebrows, and all. I thought
my disguise was pretty good, but I hardly expected that it would
stand that test."
"Ah, you rogue!" cried Jones, highly delighted. "You would
have made an actor and a rare one. You had the proper work-
house cough, and those weak legs of yours are worth ten pound a
week. I thought I knew the glint of your eye, though. You didn't
get away from us so easily, you see."
"I have been working in that get-up all day," said he, lighting
his cigar. "You see, a good many of the criminal classes begin
to know me -- especially since our friend here took to publishing
some of my cases: so I can only go on the war-path under some
simple disguise like this. You got my wire?"
"Yes; that was what brought me here."
"How has your case prospered?"
"It has all come to nothing. I have had to release two of my
prisoners, and there is no evidence against the other two."
"Never mind. We shall give you two others in the place of
them. But you must put yourself under my orders. You are
welcome to all the official credit, but you must act on the lines
that I point out. Is that agreed?"
"Entirely, if you will help me to the men.
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