questions, but in the end he appeared a little disappointed. "It doesn't seem," he said, "that he'd show himself like that if he's what we think he is. Unless, of course, he's doing it for a bluff; to avert suspicion, you know."
Perry nodded.
"He doesn't look much like a criminal," he said doubtfully. "He's sort of nice-looking, Fudge."
"Lots of the best of 'em are," was the sententious reply. "Look at—oh, lots of 'em! Remember the crook in that movie play last month, the fellow who forged things?"
"Jim the Penman? Yes, but he was only an actor, Fudge."
"Makes no difference. Those plays are true to life, Perry. That's why they got that good-looking chap to act that part, don't you see? That's one of the most suspicious things about this fellow. He's too good-looking, too innocent, don't you see? He's probably an awfully clever cracksman, Perry."
"Maybe," replied the other hopefully. "What do you suppose he was so interested in the paper for?"
Fudge frowned thoughtfully as he conveyed the last morsel of a generous sandwich to his mouth. "You can't tell. Maybe he was looking to see if the police were on his track. Or maybe"
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