He purred. To be called an artist was what he longed for most. Now I knew that I had him.

“All the same,” I went on, “even without your beard and moustache you might be recognizable. Unless, of course⁠—” I broke off.

“Unless what?”

“You pretend to be Robert.” I began to laugh to myself again. “By Jove!” I said, “that’s not a bad idea. Pretend to be Robert, the wastrel brother, and make yourself objectionable to Miss Norris. Borrow money from her, and that sort of thing.”