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?'"

"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. Gu