e
puts red pepper in his tobacco.'

"Well, sir, I started tracing myself back and I found out I was the
murderer. And I was the detective after the murderer. I was everybody
concerned. In a moment I was overcome by criminal fear and I fled. I
fled all over Europe, Asia, and Africa, and wherever I went I was
right after myself, ready to arrest me."

Chi Foxy paused and glanced at P. Gubb questioningly. With a solemn
face the great Correspondence School detective blinked his bird-like
eyes at Chi Foxy.

"So now arrest me," said Chi Foxy.

Philo Gubb rubbed his chin. "I'd like to favor you by so doing, Mr.
Jones," he said, "for I can easy see, Mr. Higgs, that you can't arrest
yourself, but it is against the instructions in Lesson Six of the
Rising Sun Correspondence School of Deteckating for a graduate to
arrest a man without a good clue, and the only clue you had was blowed
away."

For a moment this seemed to annoy Chi Foxy, but his face suddenly
brightened.

"Clue?" he said. "Say, friend, I wouldn't ask you to arrest me on any
such clue as a speck of red pepper. No, sir! But I've got a clue
that'll mean something. I can tell you right where I buried that old
miser's bones, I can. You go up the river road until you come to a
tool-house on the railway, and just back of the tool-house is a
dwellin'-house--old and unpainted. All right! Right in that yard,
close to the railway fence, the bones is buried. Now, you turn me over
to the law, and you go up there--"

"We'd best go up there immediately first before anything else," said
Philo Gubb, starting to remove his paper-hanger's apron. "Putting off
clues until sometime else is against Paragraph Four, Lesson One. If
you come up there with me--"

"Look here," said Chi Foxy, "will you buy me a feed on the way up if I
go with you?"

"Quite certainly sure," said P. Gubb, and so it was agreed.

The paper-hanger detective and the criminal-detective stopped at
Hank's restaurant and Chi Foxy ate a heavy meal, and then led the way
to the tool-house, and pointed over the wire fence to the spot where
the bones of the murdered miser were supposed to repose.

"Right there!" he said, but when P. Gubb had climbed the fence and had
turned to look for Chi Foxy, the late detective-criminal was gone. Mr.
Gubb's face turned red, but as he hung his head in shame he noticed
that the ground at his feet had lately been spaded. He stooped to look
at it, and then walked to the weather-be