finished."

"But I should be recognized," I objected. "I am bound to be
recognized. I am fairly well known as it is, and with my picture and
description placarded all over England, I shouldn't stand a dog's
chance. However lonely a place it was, some one would be bound to see
me and give me away sooner or later."

McMurtrie shook his head. "You may be seen," he said, "but there is no
reason why you should be recognized."

I paused in the act of lighting my cigarette. "What do you mean?" I
asked with some curiosity.

"My dear Mr. Lyndon," said McMurtrie, courteously, "as a scientist
yourself you don't imagine that it's beyond the art of an intelligent
surgeon to cope with a little difficulty like that?"

"But in what way?" I objected. "A disguise? Any one can see through a
disguise except in novels."

The doctor smiled. "I am not suggesting a wig and a pair of
spectacles," he observed. "It is rather too late in the world's
history for that sort of thing." Then he stopped and studied me for an
instant attentively. "In a fortnight, and practically without hurting
you," he added, "I can make you as safe from the police as if you were
dead and buried."

I sat up in bed. "Under the circumstances," I said, "you'll excuse my
being a little inquisitive."