"All right! All right!" said Billy Gribble. "Have it your own way. You ought to know. Only--you said Burke over at my place." Mr. Burke-Burns glared at Billy Gribble. "Now! There, now!" he cried. "Just for that I'll tell you you don't know anything about it. My name isn't Burke, and it isn't Burns. It's--it's Charles Augustus Witzel. Mr. Gubb, my name is Charles Augustus Witzel." "Glad to know your acquaintance, sir," said Philo Gubb. "Won't you be seated upon one of them bundles of wall-paper?" "I'm a detective," said Mr. Charles Augustus Witzel. "Tell him about me, Gribble." "Well, he--whatever his name is, but Burke was what he told me--is a Chicago detective," said Billy Gribble. "Yes, sir, Mr. Gubb, Mr.--ah, what is it?" "Witzel," said Mr. Witzel. "Mr. Witzel is one of the celebratedest Chicago detectives," said Mr. Gribble, "and he's come over here to hunt up this man Master that's disappeared. See? So when he strikes town he comes straight to me. 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 hit 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?'"