show himself around the way he's doing. He'd hide, wouldn't he, Fudge?"
"Where? He is hiding. He wears that mustache and he's trusting to that, you see. Why, if he went sneaking around the police would notice him at once, Perry. So he comes right out in public; makes believe he's a civil engineer and plays the piano in a theater. You don't suppose, do you, that the police would ever think of looking in a moving picture house for an escaped train-robber? Say, he must sort of laugh to himself when he sees those train-robbery films, eh?"
"But if he wears that mustache when he goes out, Fudge, why does he take it off when he's in his room?"
"Maybe it isn't comfortable. I should think it mightn't be."
"Yes, but he must know that most anyone can see him when he sits at his window like that in the morning."
Fudge was silent for a moment. Then: "Perhaps he doesn't think of that," he suggested weakly. "Anyhow, what we've got to do is see first if his eyes are blue, and after that whether he has a scar on his arm. We might wait in front of the theater this afternoon, only there's the ball game and we don't want to miss that."
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