you've had to dinner."

"Dinner?" gurgled Mr. Millbrook. "Dinner? When?"

"Since you were married," said Mr. Gubb.

"My dear man," exclaimed Mr. Millbrook, "we've had thousands to
dinner! Dining out and giving dinners is our favorite amusement. I
can't see what you mean. I can't understand you."

"Well, you got plated spoons and forks, ain't you?" asked Philo Gubb.

"What if we have?" gurgled Mr. Millbrook. "That's our affair, ain't
it?"

"It's my affair too," said Detective Gubb. "Mr. Griscom's house was
un-burgled last night, and he had plated spoons. The un-burglar left
solid ones on him, like he did on you. Now, I reason induc-i-tively,
like Sherlock Holmes. You both got plated spoons. An un-burglar leaves
you solid ones. So he must have known you had plated ones and needed
solid ones. So it must be some one who has had dinner with you."

"My dear man," gurgled Mr. Millbrook, "we never have had a plated
spoon in this house! Who sent you here, anyway?"

"Nobody," said Philo Gubb. "I come of myself."

"Well, you can go of yourself!" gurgled Mr. Millbrook angrily.
"There's the door. Get out!"

On his way out Mr. Gubb met Patrolman Purcell coming in.

[Illustration: "WHO SENT YOU HERE, ANYWAY?"]

Detective Gubb, outside the house, examined the cellar window as well
as he could. There was not a mark to be seen from the outside, but a
pansy-bed bore the marks of the un-burglar's exit. To get out of the
cellar, the un-burglar had had to wiggle himself out of the small
window, and had crushed the pansies flat. Detective Gubb felt
carefully among the crushed pansies, and his hand found something hard
and round. It was the drumstick bone of a chicken's leg. Detective
Gubb threw it away. Even an un-burglar would not have chosen a
chicken's leg bone as a weapon. Evidently Billy Getz had not left any
clue in the pansy-bed.

Philo Gubb had no doubt that Billy was putting up a joke on him. The
detective decided that his best method would be to shadow Billy Getz
from sundown each day, until he caught him un-burgling another house,
or found something to connect him with the un-burglaries. So he went
home. It was eleven when he began to undress.

It was then he first realized that the knees of his light trousers
were damp from kneeling in the pansy-bed, and he looked at them
ruefully. The knees were stained like Joseph's coat of many colors,
and they were his best trousers. He hung them carefully over the back
of h