"Only once in some amateur theatricals," I answered "and then the
moustache came off."

"They will make a great difference in your appearance by themselves,"
he went on, looking at me critically. "I wonder how long they will
take to grow."

I passed my hand up my face, which was already covered with a thick
stubble about half an inch in length. "At the present rate of
progress," I said, "I should think about a week."

McMurtrie smiled. "Another fortnight on top of that will be nearer the
mark, I expect," he said, getting up from the bed. "That will just fit
in with our arrangements. In three weeks we ought to be able to fix
you up with what you want, and by that time there won't be quite so
much excitement about your escape. The _Daily Mail_ will have become
tired of you, even if the police haven't." He stopped to flick the ash
off his cigarette. "Of course you will have to be extremely careful
when you are in London. I shall change your appearance so that it
will be quite impossible for any one to recognize you, but there will
always be the danger of somebody remembering your voice."

"I can disguise that to a certain extent," I said. "Besides, it's not
likely that I shall run across any one I know well. I only want to
amuse myself for two or three evenings, and the West End's a large
place as far as amusement goes." Then I paused. "If you really thought
it was too risky," I added carelessly, "I would give up the idea."

It was a bold stroke--but it met with the success that it deserved.