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 PHILO GUBB

 Correspondence-School
 Detective

 BY

 ELLIS PARKER BUTLER

 WITH ILLUSTRATIONS

 BOSTON AND NEW YORK
 HOUGHTON MIFFLIN COMPANY
 The Riverside Press Cambridge
 1918




 COPYRIGHT, 1913, 1914, AND 1915, BY THE RED BOOK CORPORATION
 COPYRIGHT, 1918, BY ELLIS PARKER BUTLER

 ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

 _Published September 1918_




[Illustration: "IN THE DETECKATIVE LINE NOTHING SOUNDS FOOLISH" (_page
218_)]




CONTENTS


 THE HARD-BOILED EGG                                              3

 THE PET                                                         21

 THE EAGLE'S CLAWS                                               43

 THE OUBLIETTE                                                   66

 THE UN-BURGLARS                                                 95

 THE TWO-CENT STAMP                                             113

 THE CHICKEN                                                    138

 THE DRAGON'S EYE                                               156

 THE PROGRESSIVE MURDER                                         171

 THE MISSING MR. MASTER                                         185

 WAFFLES AND MUSTARD                                            205

 THE ANONYMOUS WIGGLE                                           227

 THE HALF OF A THOUSAND                                         247

 DIETZ'S 7462 BESSIE JOHN                                       266

 HENRY                                                          288

 BURIED BONES                                                   307

 PHILO GUBB'S GREATEST CASE                                     329




ILLUSTRATIONS


 "IN THE DETECKATIVE LINE NOTHING SOUNDS FOOLISH"      _Frontispiece_

 "THIS SHELL GAME IS EASY ENOUGH WHEN YOU KNOW HOW"               8

 MR. WINTERBERRY DID NOT SEEM TO BE CONCEALED AMONG THEM         30

 A HEAD SILHOUETTED AGAINST ONE OF THE GLOWING WINDOWS           44

 "THESE HERE IS FALSE WHISKERS AND HAIR"                         86

 "WHO SENT YOU HERE, ANYWAY?"                                   106

 UNDER HIS ARM HE CARRIED A SMALL BUNDLE                        108

 SHE MADE GESTURES WITH HER HANDS                               128

 "DETECKATING IS MY AIM AND MY PROFESSION"                      138

 WITH ANOTHER GROAN WIXY RAISED HIS HANDS                       150

 "THE 'ONGSOMBLE' OF MY COSTUME IS RUINED"                      162

 "THERE AIN'T A DAY HE DON'T SHOOT AND HIT ME"                  178

 THE MISSING MR. MASTER                                         202

 "YOU ARE A MAN, AND BIG AND STRONG AND BRAVE-LIKE"             234

 HE PERSPIRES, AND OUT COMES THE CRUEL ADMISSION                252

 A MAN WHO LOOKED LIKE NAPOLEON BONAPARTE GONE TO SEED          268

 HE WORE A SET OF RED UNDER-CHIN WHISKERS                       280

 "SHE THINKS IT'S HENRY. SHE'S FIXED UP THE GUEST BEDROOM
 FOR HIM"                                                       304

 "A DETECKATIVE LIKE YOU ARE OUGHTN'T TO NEED TWENTY-FIVE
 CENTS SO BAD AS THAT"                                          320

 HE WAS FOLLOWED BY A LARGE AND GROWING GROUP INTENT ON
 WATCHING A DETECTIVE DETECT                                    340




 PHILO GUBB

 THE CORRESPONDENCE-SCHOOL
 DETECTIVE




THE HARD-BOILED EGG


Walking close along the wall, to avoid the creaking floor boards,
Philo Gubb, paper-hanger and student of the Rising Sun Detective
Agency's Correspondence School of Detecting, tiptoed to the door of
the bedroom he shared with the mysterious Mr. Critz. In appearance Mr.
Gubb was tall and gaunt, reminding one of a modern Don Quixote or a
human flamingo; by nature Mr. Gubb was the gentlest and most
simple-minded of men. Now, bending his long, angular body almost
double, he placed his eye to a crack in the door panel and stared into
the room. Within, just out of the limited area of Mr. Gubb's vision,
Roscoe Critz paused in his work and listened carefully. He heard the
sharp whistle of Mr. Gubb's breath as it cut against the sharp edge of
the crack in the panel, and he knew he was being spied upon. He placed
his chubby hands on his knees and smiled 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 washstand would know."

"Well, of course," said Mr. Gubb, "I ain't a full deteckative yet. You
can't look for me to guess things as quick as a full deteckative
would. Of course that brick sort of looks like a gold-brick--"

"It _is_ a gold-brick," said Mr. Critz.

"Yes," said Mr. Gubb. "But--I don't mean no offense, Mr. Critz--from
the way you look--I sort of thought--well, that it was a gold-brick
you'd bought."

Mr. Critz turned very red.

"Well, what if I did buy it?" he said. "That ain't any reason I can't
sell it, is it? Just because a man buys eggs once--or twice--ain't any
reason he shouldn't go into the business of egg-selling, is it? Just
because I've bought one or two gold-bricks in my day ain't any reason
I shouldn't go to sellin' 'em, is it?"

Mr. Gubb stared at Mr. Critz with unconcealed surprise.

"You ain't,--you ain't a con' man, are you, Mr. Critz?" he asked.

"If I ain't yet, that's no sign I ain't goin' to be," said Mr. Critz
firmly. "One man has as good a right to try his hand at it as another,
especially when a man has had my experience in it. Mr. Gubb, there
ain't hardly a con' game I ain't been conned with. I been confidenced
long enough; from now on I'm goin' to confidence other folks. That's
what I'm goin' to do; and I won't be bothered by no detective livin'
in the same room with me. Detectives and con' men don't mix noways!
No, sir!"

"Well, sir," said Mr. Gubb, "I can see the sense of that. But you
don't need to move right away. I don't aim to start in deteckating in
earnest for a couple of months yet. I got a couple of jobs of
paper-hanging and decorating to finish up, and I can't start in
sleuthing until I get my star, anyway. And I don't get my star until
I get one more lesson, and learn it, and send in the examination
paper, and five dollars extra for the diploma. Then I'm goin' at it as
a reg'lar business. It's a good business. Every day there's more
crooks--excuse me, I didn't mean to say that."

"That's all right," said Mr. Critz kindly. "Call a spade a spade. If I
ain't a crook yet, I hope to be soon."

"I didn't know how you'd feel about it," explained Mr. Gubb.
"Tactfulness is strongly advised into the lessons of the Rising Sun
Deteckative Agency Correspondence School of Deteckating--"

"Slocum, Ohio?" asked Mr. Critz quickly. "You didn't see the ad. in
the 'Hearthstone and Farmside,' did you?"

"Yes, Slocum, Ohio," said Mr. Gubb, "and that is the paper I saw the
ad. into; 'Big Money in Deteckating. Be a Sleuth. We can make you the
equal of Sherlock Holmes in twelve lessons.' Why?"

"Well, sir," said Mr. Critz, "that's funny. That ad. was right atop of
the one I saw, and I studied quite considerable before I could make up
my mind whether 'twould be best for me to be a detective and go out
and get square with the fellers that sold me gold-bricks and things by
putting them in jail, or to even things up by sending for this book
that was advertised right under the 'Rising Sun Correspondence
School.' How come I settled to do as I done was that I had a sort of
stock to start with, with a fust-class gold-brick, and some green
goods I'd bought; and this book only cost a quatter of a dollar. And
she's a hummer for a quatter of a dollar! A hummer!"

He pulled the paper-covered book from his pocket and handed it to Mr.
Gubb. The title of the book was "The Complete Con' Man, by the King of
the Grafters. Price 25 cents."

"That there book," said Mr. Critz proudly, as if he himself had
written it, "tells everything a man need to know to work every con'
game there is. Once I get it by heart, I won't be afraid to try any of
them. Of course, I got to start in small. I can't hope to pull off a
wire-tapping game right at the start, because that has to have a gang.
You don't know anybody you could recommend for a gang, do you?"

"Not right offhand," said Mr. Gubb thoughtfully.

[Illustration: "THIS SHELL GAME IS EASY ENOUGH WHEN YOU KNOW HOW"]

"If you wasn't goin' into the detective business," said Mr. Critz,
"you'd be just the feller for me. You look sort of honest and not as
if you was too bright, and that counts a lot. Even in this here simple
little shell game I got to have a podner. I got to have a podner I can
trust, so I can let him look like he was winnin' money off of me. You
see," he explained, moving to the washstand, "this shell game is easy
enough when you know how. I put three shells down like this, on a
stand, and I put the little rubber pea on the stand, and then I take
up the three shells like this, two in one hand and one in the
other, and I wave 'em around over the pea, and maybe push the pea
around a little, and I say, 'Come on! Come on! The hand is quicker
than the eye!' And all of a suddent I put the shells down, and you
think the pea is under one of them, like that--"

"I don't think the pea is under one of 'em," said Mr. Gubb. "I seen it
roll onto the floor."

"It did roll onto the floor that time," said Mr. Critz apologetically.
"It most generally does for me, yet. I ain't got it down to perfection
yet. This is the way it ought to work--oh, pshaw! there she goes onto
the floor again! Went under the bed that time. Here she is! Now, the
way she ought to work is--there she goes again!"

"You got to practice that game a lot before you try it onto folks in
public, Mr. Critz," said Mr. Gubb seriously.

"Don't I know that?" said Mr. Critz rather impatiently. "Same as
you've got to practice snoopin', Mr. Gubb. Maybe you thought I didn't
know you was snoopin' after me wherever I went last night."

"Did you?" asked Mr. Gubb, with surprise plainly written on his face.

"I seen you every moment from nine P.M. till eleven!" said Mr. Critz.
"I didn't like it, neither."

"I didn't think to annoy you," apologized Mr. Gubb. "I was practicin'
Lesson Four. You wasn't supposed to know I was there at all."

"Well, I don't like it," said Mr. Critz. "'Twas all right last night,
for I didn't have nothin' important on hand, but if I'd been workin'
up a con' game, the feller I was after would have thought it mighty
strange to see a man follerin' me everywhere like that. If you went
about it quiet and unobtrusive, I wouldn't mind; but if I'd had a
customer on hand and he'd seen you it would make him nervous. He'd
think there was a--a crazy man follerin' us."

"I was just practicin'," apologized Mr. Gubb. "It won't be so bad when
I get the hang of it. We all got to be beginners sometime."

"I guess so," said Mr. Critz, rearranging the shells and the little
rubber pea. "Well, I put the pea down like this, and I dare you to bet
which shell she's goin' to be under, and you don't bet, see? So I put
the shells down, and you're willin' to bet you see me put the first
shell over the pea like this. So you keep your eye on that shell, and
I move the shells around like this--"

"She's under the same shell," said Mr. Gubb.

"Well, yes, she _is_," said Mr. Critz placidly, "but she hadn't ought
to be. By rights she ought to sort of ooze out from under whilst I'm
movin' the shells around, and I'd ought to sort of catch her in
between my fingers and hold her there so you don't see her. Then when
you say which shell she's under, she ain't under any shell; she's
between my fingers. So when you put down your money I tell you to pick
up that shell and there ain't anything under it. And before you can
pick up the other shells I pick one up, and let the pea fall on the
stand like it had been under that shell all the time. That's the game,
only up to now I ain't got the hang of it. She won't ooze out from
under, and she won't stick between my fingers, and when she does
stick, she won't drop at the right time."

"Except for that, you've got her all right, have you?" asked Mr. Gubb.

"Except for that," said Mr. Critz; "and I'd have that, only my fingers
are stubby."

"What was it you thought of having me do if I wasn't a deteckative?"
asked Mr. Gubb.

"The work you'd have to do would be capping work," said Mr. Critz.
"Capper--that's the professional name for it. You'd guess which shell
the ball was under--"

"That would be easy, the way you do it now," said Mr. Gubb.

"I told you I'd got to learn it better, didn't I?" asked Mr. Critz
impatiently. "You'd be capper, and you'd guess which shell the pea was
under. No matter which you guessed, I'd leave it under that one, so'd
you'd win, and you'd win ten dollars every time you bet--but not for
keeps. That's why I've got to have an honest capper."

"I can see that," said Mr. Gubb; "but what's the use lettin' me win it
if I've got to bring it back?"

"That starts the boobs bettin'," said Mr. Critz. "The boobs see how
you look to be winnin', and they want to win too. But they don't. When
they bet, I win."

"That ain't a square game," said Mr. Gubb seriously, "is it?"

"A crook ain't expected to be square," said Mr. Critz. "It stands to
reason, if a crook wants to be a crook, he's got to be crooked, ain't
he?"

"Yes, of course," said Mr. Gubb. "I hadn't looked at it that way."

"As far as I can see," said Mr. Critz, "the more I know how a
detective acts, the better off I'll be when I start in doin' real
business. Ain't that so? I guess, till I get the hang of things
better, I'll stay right here."

"I'm glad to hear you say so, Mr. Critz," said Mr. Gubb with relief.
"I like you, and I like your looks, and there's no tellin' who I might
get for a roommate next time. I might get some one that wasn't
honest."

So it was agreed, and Mr. Critz stood over the washstand and
manipulated the little rubber pea and the three shells, while Mr. Gubb
sat on the edge of the bed and studied Lesson Eleven of the "Rising
Sun Detective Agency's Correspondence School of Detecting."

When, presently, Mr. Critz learned to work the little pea neatly, he
urged Mr. Gubb to take the part of capper, and each time Mr. Gubb won
he gave him a five-dollar bill. Then Mr. Gubb posed as a "boob" and
Mr. Critz won all the money back again, beaming over his spectacle
rims, and chuckling again and again until he burst into a fit of
coughing that made him red in the face, and did not cease until he had
taken a big drink of water out of the wash-pitcher. Never had he
seemed more like a kindly old gentleman from behind the candy counter
of a small village. He hung over the washstand, manipulating the
little rubber pea as if fascinated.

"Ain't it curyus how a feller catches onto a thing like that all to
once?" he said after a while. "If it hadn't been that I was so
anxious, I might have fooled with that for weeks and weeks and not got
anywheres with it. I do wisht you could be my capper a while anyway,
until I could get one."

"I need all my time to study," said Mr. Gubb. "It ain't easy to learn
deteckating by mail."

"Pshaw, now!" said Mr. Critz. "I'm real sorry! Maybe if I was to pay
you for your time and trouble five dollars a night? How say?"

Mr. Gubb considered. "Well, I dunno!" he said slowly. "I sort of hate
to take money for doin' a favor like that."

"Now, there ain't no need to feel that way," said Mr. Critz. "Your
time's wuth somethin' to me--it's wuth a lot to me to get the hang of
this gold-brick game. Once I get the hang of it, it won't be no
trouble for me to sell gold-bricks like this one for all the way from
a thousand dollars up. I paid fifteen hundred for this one myself, and
got it cheap. That's a good profit, for this brick ain't wuth a cent
over one hundred dollars, and I know, for I took it to the bank after
I bought it, and that's what they was willin' to pay me for it. So
it's easy wuth a few dollars for me to have help whilst I'm learnin'.
I can easy afford to pay you a few dollars, and to pay a friend of
yours the same."

"Well, now," said Mr. Gubb, "I don't know but what I might as well
make a little that way as any other. I got a friend--" He stopped
short. "You don't aim to _