the very dregs."

"If only I had some disguise," said Quimbleton sadly, "it wouldn't
be so bad. But I must confess that these breath detectors and
other unscrupulous instruments they use have rather unnerved me."

Bleak suddenly remembered, and thrust his hand in his hip-pocket.
He pulled out the hank of white beard that had floated down from
the airplane a few days before. It was much crumpled, but intact.

"Good man!" cried Quimbleton. "My jolly old beard!" He clapped it
onto his face and beamed hopefully. "Now, if there were some way
of getting rid of this tell-tale uniform--"

They discussed this problem at some length, sitting in the
sheltered bowl of sand, while Quimbleton finished his lunch.
Bleak's suggestion of stitching together a sort of Robinson Crusoe
suit of rhododendron leaves did not meet Quimbleton's approval.

"No Robinson trousseau for me," he said. "I thought of pasting
together the leaves of The Bartender's Benefactor, but I'm afraid
that would be rather damning. No, I don't see what to do."

"I have it!" said Theodolinda, gleefully. "I've got a sewing kit
in the car--we'll unrip the upholstery and I can stitch you up a
suit in no time. At least it will be better than the C. P. H. get-
up, which would take you in front of a firing squad if it were
seen."

This seemed a good idea. Bleak volunteered to escort Miss Chuff