Part 27 (2/2)

That's how it is, ain't it?”

”Ex-act-ly!” said Mr. Witzel.

”Yes, sir,” said Billy Gribble. ”So he comes to my laundry, and I'm in the washroom--”

”You ain't!” said Mr. Witzel. ”You're out, and you know you're out!”

”And I'm out,” said Billy Gribble. ”Maybe I was in the washroom and went out the back way. Anyway, I'm out. Say,” he said, as Mr. Witzel squirmed, ”if you don't like the way I'm telling this, tell it yourself.”

”I entered Mr. Gribble's laundry,” said Mr. Witzel. ”You'll understand, being a detective, Mr. Gubb. I entered the laundry. Here is the counter. I walked up to the counter. I leaned over and spoke to the girl there. 'My dear young lady,' I said, 'is Mr. Gribble in?'

'Out,' she says. Naturally, I looked down. A detective observes everything. My toe has. .h.i.t a suitcase. On the end of the suitcase are the initials 'C. M.' and 'Chicago.' In other words, 'Custer Master, Chicago,'--the man I'm looking for.”

”And did you get him?” asked Philo Gubb tensely.

”Gone! Gone like a bird!” said Mr. Witzel. ”I waited for Gribble. I questioned Gribble. I asked him if Mr. Master had been there--”

”Hold on!” said Mr. Gribble, and then, ”Oh, all right!”

”And he said, 'No,'” said Mr. Witzel, frowning. ”'Very well,' I said to Gribble, 'he'll be back. He'll come back after the suitcase.' So Gribble hid me in his private office. I waited.”

”And he came back?” asked Detective Gubb eagerly.

”He did not,” said Mr. Witzel.

Philo Gubb sighed with relief. ”Then I've got a chance at an opportunity to get that five thousand dollars,” he said.

”Mr. Gubb,” said Mr. Witzel, ”you have a chance to get twenty-five hundred. It was to offer you the chance to get twenty-five hundred that I came here. What did I say to you, Gribble?”

”You go ahead and tell it, if you want it told,” said Gribble. ”You don't like the way I tell things. Tell 'em yourself.”

”I said to Gribble,” said Mr. Witzel slowly, ”'Gribble, is this the town where a detective by the name of Grubb lives?'”

”Gubb is the name,” said Mr. Gubb.

”Gubb. That's what I said,” said Mr. Witzel. ”That made me think a bit. 'Gribble,' I says, 'by to-morrow there will be forty Chicago detectives in his town, all looking for Master. And I don't care a whoop for any of them,' I says. 'I'm the leader of them all, as anybody who has read the exploits of--of George Augustus Wechsler--.'”

”Charles Augustus Witzel,” said Gribble, correctingly.

”I have so many _aliases_ I forget them,” said Mr. Witzel to Mr. Gubb.

”You'll understand that perfectly. You are a detective, and I'm a detective, Witzel or Wotzel or Wutzel--who cares? We understand each other. Don't we?”

”I presume to suppose we will do so in the course of time,” said Philo Gubb politely.

”Pre-cise-ly!” said Mr. Witzel. ”So I said to Gribble, 'I'm afraid of Gubb! He's the man who will find Master, if I don't. But I've got an advantage. I've got the clue.'”

He pointed to the suitcase.

”So Gribble says to me,” said Mr. Witzel, ”'Why don't you and Gubb combine?' 'Great idea!' I says, and--here I am. How about it, Mr.

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