If he failed to recognize the man you
take to be your friend transformed, make up your mind the man is
somebody else."
Bagley drew a deep sigh, curtly thanked the criminologist, and rose,
saying to Larcher: "Well, you better turn over the stakes to your
friend, I guess."
"You're not going yet, are you?" said Larcher.
"Yes, sir. I lose this bet; but I'll try my story on the police just the
same. Truth is mighty and will prevail."
Before Bagley could make his way out, however, Turl, who had been
watching him, managed to get to his side. Larcher, waving a good-night to
Barry Tompkins, followed the two from the room. In the hall, he handed
the stakes to Turl.
"Oh, yes, you win all right enough," admitted Bagley. "My fun will
come later."
"I trust you'll see the funny side of it," replied Turl, accompanying him
forth to the snowy street. "You haven't laughed much at the little
foretaste of the incredulity that awaits you."
"Never you mind. I'll make them believe me, before I'm through." He had
turned toward Sixth Avenue. Turl and Larcher stuck close to him.
"You'll have them suggesting rest-cures for the mind, and that sort of
thing," said Turl, pleasantly.
"And the newspapers will be calling you the Great American Identifier,"
put in Larcher.
"There'll be somebody else as the chief identifier," said Bagley, glaring
at Turl. "Somebody that knows it's you. I heard her say that much."
"Stop a moment, Mr. Bagley." Turl enforced obedience by stepping in
front of the man and facing him.
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