d at the door, while a red
flush of triumph spread over his face.

Through the crack in the door Mr. Gubb could see the top of the
washstand beside which Mr. Critz was sitting, but he could not see Mr.
Critz. As he stared, however, he saw a plump hand appear and pick up,
one by one, the articles lying on the washstand. They were: First,
seven or eight half shells of English walnuts; second, a rubber shoe
heel out of which a piece had been cut; third, a small rubber ball no
larger than a pea; fourth, a paper-bound book; and lastly, a large and
glittering brick of yellow gold. As the hand withdrew the golden
brick, Mr. Gubb pressed his face closer against the door in his effort
to see more, and suddenly the door flew open and Mr. Gubb sprawled on
his hands and knees on the worn carpet of the bedroom.

"There, now!" said Mr. Critz. "There, now! Serves you right. Hope you
hurt chuself!"

Mr. Gubb arose slowly, like a giraffe, and brushed his knees.

"Why?" he asked.

"Snoopin' an' sneakin' like that!" said Mr. Critz crossly. "Scarin' me
to fits, a'most. How'd I know who 'twas? If you want to come in, why
don't you come right in, 'stead of snoopin' an' sneakin' an' fallin'
in that way?"

As he talked, Mr. Critz replaced the shells and the rubber heel and
the rubber pea and the gold-brick on the washstand. He was a plump
little man with a shiny bald head and a white goatee. As he talked, he
bent his head down, so that he might look above the glasses of his
spectacles; and in spite of his pretended anger he looked like
nothing so much as a kindly, benevolent old gentleman--the sort of old
gentleman that keeps a small store in a small village and sells
writing-paper that smells of soap, and candy sticks out of a glass jar
with a glass cover.

"How'd I know but what you was a detective?" he asked, in a gentler
tone.

"I am," said Mr. Gubb soberly, seating himself on one of the two beds.
"I'm putty near a deteckative, as you might say."

"Ding it all!" said Mr. Critz. "Now I got to go and hunt another room.
I can't room with no detective."

"Well, now, Mr. Critz," said Mr. Gubb, "I don't want you should feel
that way."

"Knowin' you are a detective makes me all nervous," complained Mr.
Critz; "and a man in my business has to have a steady hand, don't he?"

"You ain't told me what your business is," said Mr. Gubb.

"You needn't pretend you don't know," said Mr. Critz. "Any detective
that saw that stuff on the was