“But I want to do better.  I want to deceive him to his face.  He’s clever, this same Brotherson, and there’s glory to be got in making a fool of him.  Do you think it could be done with a beard?  I’ve never worn a beard.  While I’m settling back into my old trade, I can let the hair grow.”

“Do.  It’ll make you look as weak as water.  It’ll be blonde, of course.”

“And silky and straggling.  Charming addition to my beauty.  But it’ll take half an inch off my nose, and it’ll cover my mouth, which means a lot in my case.  Then my complexion!  It must be changed naturally.  I’ll consult a doctor about that.  No sort of make-believe will go with this man.  If my eyes look weak, they must really be so.  If I walk slowly and speak huskily, it must be because I cannot help it.  I can bear the slight inconvenience of temporary ill-health in a cause like this; and if necessary the cough will be real, and the headache positive.

“Sweetwater!  We’d better give the task to another man—­to someone Brotherson has never seen and won’t be suspicious of?”

“He’ll be suspicious of everybody who tries to make friends with him now; only a little more so with me; that’s all.  But I’ve got to meet that, and I’ll do it by being, temporarily, of course, exactly the man I seem.  My health will not be good for the next few weeks, I’m sure of that.  But I’ll be a model workman, neat and conscientious with just a suspicion of dash where dash is needed.  He knows the real thing when he sees it, and there’s not a fellow living more alive to shams.  I won’t be a sham.  I’ll be it.  You’ll see.”

“But the doubt.  Can you do all this in doubt of the issue?”

“No; I must have confidence in the end, and I must believe in his guilt.  Nothing else will carry me through.  I must believe in his guilt.”

“Yes, that’s essential.”

“And I do.  I never was surer of anything than I am of that.  But I’ll have the deuce of a time to get evidence enough for a grand jury.  That’s plainly to be seen, and that’s why I’m so dead set on the business.  It’s such an even toss-up.”

“I don’t call it even.  He’s got the start of you every way.  You can’t go to his tenement; the janitor there would recognise you even if he didn’t.”

“Now I will give you a piece of good news.  They’re to have a new janitor next week.  I learned that yesterday.  The present one is too easy.  He’ll be out long before I’m ready to show myself there; and so will the woman who took care of the poor washerwoman’s little child.  I’d not have risked her curiosity.  Luck isn’t all against us.  How does Mr. Challoner feel about it?”