Speaker 1: The pet by Ellis Parker Butler. On the morning following
his capture of the Hard Boiled Egg, the Riverbank Eagle
printed two full columns in praise of Detective Gub and
complimented Riverbank on having a superior to Sherlock Holmes. In
its midst mister Philo Gubb said, the Eagle has thus
far received only eleven of the twelve lessons from the
Rising Sun Detective Agency's Correspondence School of Detecting, and we
look for great things from him when he finally receives
his diploma and badge. He informed us to day that
he hopes to begin work on the Dynamite case soon.
With the money he will receive for capturing the Hard
Boiled Egg, mister Gubb intends to purchase eighteen complete disguises
from the supply department of the Rising Sun Detective Agency
slocum Ohio. Mister Gubb wishes us to announce that until
the disguises arrive, he will continue to do paper hang
decorating an interior painting at reasonable rates. Unfortunately, there were
no calls for mister Gubb's detective services for some time
after he received his disguises and diploma. But while waiting,
he devoted his spare time to the Dynamite Mystery, a
remarkable case on which many detectives had been working for
many weeks. This led only to his being beaten up
twice by Joseph Henry, one of the men he shadowed.
The arrival in Riverbank of the World's Monster Combined Shows
the day after mister Gubb received his diplomas seemed to
offer an opportunity for his detective talents, as a circus
is usually accompanied by crooks, and early in the morning,
mister Gubb donned disguise number sixteen, which was cataloged as
Negro hack Driver Complete twenty two dollars. But while looking
for crooks while watching the circus unload, his eyes alighted
on Syrilla, known as half a Ton of Beauty, the
fat lady of the side show. As Marilla descended from
the car aided by the living skeleton and the strong Man,
the fair creature wore a low neck evening gown. Her
arms and shoulders were snowy white, except for a peculiar
mark on one arm. Not only had mister Gubb never
seen such white arms and shoulders, but he had never
seen so much arm and shoulder on one woman, and
from that moment he was deeply and hopelessly in love,
Like one hypnotized. He followed her to the side show tent,
paid his admission, and stood all day before her platform.
He was still there when the tent was taken down
that night. Mister Gubb was not the only man in
Riverbank to fall in love with Sorilla. When the ladies
of the Riverbank Social Service League heard that the circus
was coming to town, they were distressed to think how
narrow the intellectual life of the side show freaks must be,
and they instructed their field secretary, mister Horace Winterbury, to
go to the side show and organize the freaks into
an an Ibsen literary and debating society. This mister Winterbury did,
and the Tasmanian wild Man was made president. But so
deeply did mister Winterbury fall in love with Syrilla that
he begged mister Dorgan, the manager of the side show,
to let him join the side show, and this mister
Dorgan did, putting him in a cage as Wah Wah
the Mexican Hairless dog man. As mister Winterbury was exceedingly bald,
at the very next stop made by the circus, a strong,
heavy fisted woman entered the side show and dragged mister
Winterbury away. This was his wife. Of this, the ladies
of the Riverbank Social Service League knew nothing. However, they
believed mister Winterbury had been stolen by the circus, and
that he was doubtless being forced to learn to swing
on a trapeze or ride a bareback horse, and they
decided to hire Detective Gubb to find and return him.
At the very moment when the ladies were deciding to
retain mister Gubb's service as the paperhanger, detective was on
his way to do a job of paper hanging, thinking
of the fair Syrilla he might never see again, when
suddenly he put down the pail of paste he was
carrying and grasped the handle of his paste brush more firmly.
He stared with amazement and fright at a remarkable creature
that came toward him from a small thicket near the
railway tracks. Mister Gubb's first and correct impression was that
this was some remarkable creature escaped from the circus. The
horrid thing loping toward him was indeed the Tasmanian wild Man.
As the wild man approached, Philo Gub, prepared to defend himself.
He was prepared to defend himself to his last drop
of blood. When half way across the field, the Tasmanian
wild man glanced back over his shoulder, and, as if
fearing pursuit, increased his speed and came toward Philo Gub
in great leaps and bounds. The correspondent school detective waved
his pastebrush more frantically than ever. The Tasmanian wild man
stopped short within six feet of him. Viewed thus closely,
the wild man was a sight to curdle. The blood
remnants of chains hung from his wrists and ankles. His
long hair was matted about his face, and his finger
nails were long and claw like. His face was daubed
with ochre and red, with black rings around the eyes,
and the circles within the rings were painted white, giving
him an air of wildness possessed by but few wild men.
His only garments were a pair of very short trunks
and the skin of some wild animal, bound about his
body with ropes of horse hair. Filo Gub bent to
receive the leap. He felt the Tasmanian wild Man was
about to make but to his surprise, the wild man
held up one hand in token of amity, and with
the other removed the matted hair from his head, revealing
an under crop of taffy. Yellow neatly parted in the
middle and smoothed back carefully. I say, old Chap, he said,
in a pleasant and well bred tone, stop waving that
dangerous looking weapon at me, will you? My intentions are
most kindly, I assure you. Can you inform me where
a chap can get a pair of trousers hereabout? Philo
Gubb's experienced eye saw at once that this creature was
less wild than he was painted. He lowered his pastebrush.
Come into this house, said Philo Gubb. Inside the house
we can discuss pants and calmness. The Tasmanian wild man
accepted now, then, said Philo Gubb. When they were safe
in the kitchen, he seated himself on a roll of wallpaper,
and a Tasmanian wild Man, whose real name was Waldo
Emerson Snooks, told his brief story. Upon graduating from Harvard,
he had sought employment offering to furnish entertainment by the evening,
reading an essay entitled the Comparative Mentality of Ibsen and
Emerson with side lights on the effect of turnip diet
at Brook Farm, but the agency was unable to get
him any engagements. They happened, however, to receive a request
from mister Dorgan, manager of the side show, asking for
a Tasmanian wild man, and mister Snooks had taken the job.
To his own surprise, he made an excellent wild man.
He was able to rattle his chains, dash up and
down the cage, gnaw the iron bars of the cage,
eat raw meat and howl as no other Tasmanian wild
man had ever done those things, and all would have
been well if an interloper had not entered the side show.
The interloper was mister Winterbury, who had introduced the subject
of Ibsen's plays, and in a discussion of them, the
Tasmanian wild Man and mister Hoxy the strong man had quarreled,
and mister Hoxy had threatened to tear mister Snook's limb
from limb, and he would have done so, said the
Tasmanian wild Man with emotion. If I had not fled,
I dare not return. I mean to work my way
back to Boston and give up Tasmanian wild manning as
a profession. But I cannot without pants. I guess you can't,
said Philo Gubb. In any station of Boston's life, pants
is expected to be worn. So the question is, old chap,
where am I to be panted? Said Waldo Emerson snooks.
I can't pant you, said Philo Gubb, but I can
overall you. The late Tasmanian wild Man was most grateful.
When he was dressed in the overalls and had wiped
the grease paint from his face on an old rag.
No one would have recognized him. And as for thanks,
said Philo Gub, don't mention it. A detecative gent is
obliged to keep up a set of disguises hitherto unsuspected
by the mortal world. This Tasmanian wild Man outfit will
do for a hermit disguise, so you don't owe me
no thanks. As Philo Gubb watched Waldo Emerson Snook start
in the direction of Boston, only some thirteen hundred miles away,
he had no idea how soon he would have occasion
to use the Tasmanian wild Man disguise. But hardly had
the wild man departed than a small boy came to
summon mister Gubb. And it was with a sense of
elation and importance that he appeared before the meeting of
the Riverbank Ladies Social Service League. And so said Missus
Garthwaite at the close of the interview. You understand us,
mister Gubb, Yes, ma'am, said Philo Gubb. What you want
me to do is find mister Winterbury, Ain't it exactly
agreed Missus Garthwaite. And when found, said mister Gubb, the
said stolen goods is to be returned to you just so,
and the fiends in human form that stole him are
to be given thee full limit of the law. They
certainly deserve it abducting a nice little gentleman like mister Winterbury,
said Missus Garthwaite. They do, indeed, said Philo Gubb, and
they shall be. I would only ask how far you
want me to arrest? If the manager of the side
show stole him, My natural and professional detecative instincts would
tell me to arrest the manager. And if the whole
side show stole him, I would make bold to arrest
the whole side show. But if the whole circus stole him,
am I to arrest the whole circus? And if so,
ought I to include the menagerie. Ought I to arrest
the elephants and the camels. Arrest only those in human form,
said Missus Garthwaite. Philo Gubb sat straight and put his
hands on his knees in referring to human form, ma'am,
He asked, do you include them orangutangs and apes? I do,
said Missus Garthwaite. Association with criminals has probably inclined their
poor minds to criminality. Yes, ma'am, said Philo Gubb, rising,
I leave on this case by the first train. Mister
Gubb hastily packed the Tasmanian garment and six other disguises
in his suit case, put the fourteen dollars given him
by Missus Garthwaite in his pocket, and hurried to catch
the train for Bardville, where the World's Monster Combined shows
were to show the next day. With true detective caution,
Philo Gubb disguised even this simple act. Having packed his suitcase,
mister Gubb rapped it carefully in Manila paper and inserted
a laundry ticket under the twine. Thus anyone seeing him
might well suppose he was returning from the laundry and
not going to Bardville. To make this scene the more likely,
he donned his Chinese disguise number seventeen, consisting of a
pink skull like wig with a long pigtail, a blue jumper,
and a yellow complexion. Mister Gubb rubbed his face with
crude ochre powder, and his complexion was a little high,
being more the hue of a pumpkin than the true
oriental skin tint. Those he met on his way to
the station imagined he was in the last stages of
yellow fever, and fled from him hastily. He reached the
station just as the train's wheels began to move, and
he was springing up the steps onto the platform of
the last car when a hand grasped his arm. He
turned his head and saw that the man grasping him
was Jonas Meadowbrook, one of Riverbank's wealthiest men. Gub, I
want you, shouted Meadowbrook energetically, but Philo Gubb shook off
the detaining arm. Mino savi melek and talkie. He jabbered
bunting mister Meadowbrook off the car step bright and early.
The next morning, Philo Gubb gave himself a healthy coat
of tan with rather high color on his cheek bones
from his collection of beards and mustaches, carefully tagged from
number one to number eighteen in harmony with the types
of disguises mentioned in the twelve Lessons of the Rising
Sun Detective Agency's Correspondence School of Detecting. He selected mustache
number eight and inserted the spring wires into his nostrils.
Mustache number eight was a long, deadly black mustache with
upcurled ends, and when Philo Gubb had donted, he had
a most sinister appearance, particularly as he failed to remove
the string tag which bore the legend number eight Gambler
or card Sharp, manufactured and sold by the Rising Sun
Detective Agency's Correspondence School of Detecting Supply Bureau. Having put
on this mustache, mister Gubb took a common splint market
basket from under the bed and placed it in the
matted hair of the Tasmanian wild Man. His make up
materials a small mirror, two towels, a cake of soap,
The Tasmanian wild man's animal skin robe, the hair rope,
and the abbreviated trunks. He covered these with a newspaper.
The sun was just rising when he reached the railway siding,
and hardly had mister Gubb arrived when the work of
unloading the circus began. Mister Gubb, searching for the abducted
mister Winterbury, sped rapidly from place to place, the string
tag on his mustache napping over his shoulder, but he
saw no one answering missus Garthwaite's description of mister Winterbury.
When the tent wagons had departed, the elephants and camels
were unloaded, but mister Winterbury did not seem to be
concealed among them, and the animal cages which came next
were all tightly closed. There were four or five cars, however,
that attracted Philo Gubb's attention, and one in particular made
his heart beat rapidly. This car bore the words World's
monster combined Show's freak car, and as mister Winterbury had
gone as a social reform agent to the side show,
mister Gubb rightly felt that here, if anywhere, he would
find a clue and he was doubly agitated, since he
knew the beautiful Syrilla was doubtless in that car. Walking
around the car, he heard the door at one end open.
He crouched under the platform, his ears and eyes on edge.
Hardly was he concealed Before the head ruffian of the
unloading gang approached mister Dorgan. He said, in quite another
tone than he had used to his laborers. Should I
fetch that wild man cage to the grounds for you today? No,
said Dorgon. What's the use I don't like an empty
cage standing around. Leave it on the car, Jake, or
hold on, I'll use it. Take it up to the
grounds and put it in the side show as usual.
I'll put the pet in it, are ye foolin? Asked
the loading boss with a grin. The cage won't know itself,
mister Dorgan, after holdin that rip snortin wild man to
be holdin a cold corpse like the pet is never
you mind, said Dorgon shortly. I know my business, Jake,
You and I know the pet is a dead one,
but these country yaps don't know it. I might as
well make some use of the remains as long as
I've got em one hand. Who are you going to fool, sweetie,
asked a voice, and mister Dorgan looked around to see Sorilla,
the Fat Lady, standing in the car door. Oh just folks,
said Dorgon, laughing. You're going to use the pet, said
the fat lady, reproachfully. And I don't think it's nice
of you say what you will, mister Dorgan. A corpse
is a corpse, and a respectable side show ain't no
place for it. I wish you would take it out
in the lot and bury it like I wanted you to,
or throw it in the river and get rid of it,
won't you, deary, I will not, said mister Dorgan firmly.
A corpse may be a corpse, Sorilla, any place but
in the circus. But in a circus, it's a feature.
He's going to be one of the seven sleepers, one
of what, asked Sorilla. One of the seven sleepers, said Dorgan.
I'm going to put him in the cage the wild
Man was in, and I'm going to tell the audience
he's asleep. He looks dead, I'll say, but I give
my word he's only asleep. We offer five thousand dollars.
I'll say to any man, woman, or child that proves
contrary than that. We have documents proven that this human
being in this cage fell asleep in the year eighteen
thirty seven and has been sleeping ever since, the longest
nap on record. I'll say that'll fetch a laugh. And
you don't care, dearie, that I'll be creepy all through
the show, do you, said, Sorilla, I won't care a hang,
said Dorgan. Mister Gubb glided noiselessly from under the car
and sped away. He had hurt enough to know that
deviltry was afoot. There was no doubt in his mind
that the pet was the late mister Winterbury. For if
ever a man deserved to be called pet, mister Winterbury,
according to missus Garthwaite's description, was that man. There was
no doubt that mister Winterbury had been murdered, and that
these heartless wretches meant to make capital of his body.
The inference was logical, It was a strong clue, and
mister Gubb hurried to the circus grounds to study the situation. No,
said Syrilla, tearfully, you don't care a hang for the
nerves of the lady in gent freaks under your care,
mister Dorgan. It's nothing to you if repulsion from that
corpse like Pet dragged seventy or eighty pounds of fat
off of me for you well know what. My contract
is so much a week, and so much for each
additional pound of fat, and the less fat I am,
the less you have to add on to your pay roll.
The day that Pet come to this show, first I
fainted outright and busted down the platform. But little do
you care, mister Dorgan. Don't you worry? You didn't murder him,
said mister Dorgan. He looks so lifelike, sobbed Sorilla. Oh
Hooxy shouted mister Dorgan. Yes, sir, said the strong man
coming to the car door. Take Sorilla in and tell
the girls to put ice on her head. She's getting
hysterics again. And when you've told him, go go up
to the grounds and tell Blake and Skinny to unpack
the petrified man. Tell him I'm going to use him
again to day. And if he's lookin shop worn, have
one of the men go over his complexion and make
him look nice and life like. Mister Dorgan swung off
from the car step and walked away. The petrified man
had been one of his mistakes. In days past, petrified
men had been important side show features, and mister Dorgan
had supposed the time had come to reintroduce them, and
he had had an excellent petrified man made of concrete,
with steel reinforcements in the legs and arms, and a
body of hollow tile so that it could stand rough travel. Unfortunately,
the features of the petrified man had been entrusted to
an artist devoted to the making of clothing dummies. Instead
of an Aztec or cave dweller. Cast in the countenance,
he had given the petrified man the simpering features of
the wax figures seen in cheap clothing stores. The result
was that instead of gazing at the petrified man with
awe as a wonder of nature, the audiences laughed at him,
and the living freaks dubbed him the pet or still
more rudely, the corpse, And when the glass case broke
at the end of the week, mister Dorton ordered the
pet packed in a box. Just now, however, the flight
of the Tasmanian wild man and the involuntary departure of
mister Winterbury at the command of his wife. After his
short appearance as wah Wah the Mexican Hairless dog Man,
suggested the new use for the petrified man. When Detective
Gub reached the circus grounds, the glaring banners had not
yet been erected before the side show tent, but all
the tents except the big top were up, and all
hands were at work on that. One. Were supposed to
be two were not. Two of the roughest looking roustabouts,
after glancing here and there, glided into the property tent
and concealed themselves behind a pile of blue cases, hampers,
and canvas bags. One of them immediately drew from under
his coat a small but heavy parcel wrapped in an
old rag. Say cull, he said, in a coarse voice.
You sure have got a head on you. This here
stuff will be just as safe in there as in
the bank. See gimme the screwdriver, not to be opened
until Chicago, said the other gleefully, pointing to the words
daubed on one of the blue cases. But I guess
it will be hay old pal, I guess. So together
they removed the lid of the box, and detective cubs
seeking the side show, crawled under the wall of the
property tent, just in time to see the two Ruffians
hurriedly jam their parcel into the case and screw the
lid in place again. Mister Gubb's mustache was now in
a diagonal position, but little he cared for that. His
eyes were fastened on the countenance of the two rousedabouts.
The men were easy to remember. One was red headed
and pock marked, and the other was dark, and the
lobes of his ears were slit, as if someone had
at some time forcibly removed a pair of rings from them.
Very quietly, Philo Gubb wiggled backwards out of the tent,
but as he did so, his eyes caught a word
painted on the side of the blue case. It was pet.
Mister Gubb proceeded to the next tent. Stooping, he peered inside,
and what he saw satisfied him that he had found
the side show. Around the inside of the tent, men
were erecting a blue platform, and on the far side
four men were wheeling a tongueless cage into place. A
door at the backside of the cage swung open and
shut as the men moved the cage, but another in
front was securely bolted and barred. Mister Gubb lowered the
tent wall and backed away. It was into this cage
that the body of mister Winterbury was to be put
to make a public holiday for yokels, and the murder
was still at large. Murderer, murderers, For who were the
two rough characters he had seen tampering with the case
containing the remains of the pet? What had they been
putting in the case. If not the murderers, they were
surely accomplices. Walking like a wary flamingo, mister Gubb circled
the tent. He saw mister Dorgan and Syrilla enter it.
Himself hidden in a clump of bushes. He saw mister Lonardon,
the living Skeleton, mister Hoxey, the strong Man, Major Ching,
the Chinese Giant, General Thumb, the Dwarf, Princess Zozo, the
Serpent Charmer, Maggie the Sircassian girl, and the rest of
the sideshow employees enter the tent. Then he removed his
number eight mustache and put it in his pocket, and
balanced his mirror against a twig. Mister Gubb was changing
his disguise. For a while, the lady and gentleman Freak
stood talking, casting reproachful glances at mister Dorgan. Crilla with
traces of tears on her face, with complaining of the
cruel man who insisted that the pet become part of
the show once more, and mister Dorgan was resisting their reproaches.
I'm the boss of the show, he said, firmly. I'm
going to use that cage, and I'm going to use
that pet. Couldn't you put Orlando in it and get
up a spiel about him, asked Princess Zozo, whose largest
serpent was called Orlando. If you got him a bottle
of cold cream from the make up tent, he'd lie
for hours with his dear little nose sniff in it.
He's passionately fond of cold cream. Well, the public ain't
passionately fond of seeing a snake smellet, said mister Dorgan.
The pet is goin into that cage. See. Couldn't you
borrow an ape from the menagerie, asked mister Lonerdon, the
living skeleton, who was as passionately fond of Sorilla as
Orlando was of cold cream, and have him be the
first man monkey to speak the human language. Only he's
got a cold and can't today. You did that once
and got roasted by the whole crowd. No, sir, mister Laningingon,
I can't and I won't bring that case right over here,
he added, turning to the four roustabouts who were carrying
the blue case into the tent. Got it open good now?
He looked toward the cage and stopped short, his mouth
open and his eyes staring. Sitting on his haunches, his
fore paws or hands hanging down like those of a
becking dog. A Tasmanian wild man stared from between the
bars of the cage. The matted hair, the bare legs,
the animal skin blanket, the streaks of ochre and red
on the face, the black circles around the eyes with
the white inside the circles were those of a real
Tasmanian wild man. But this Tasmanian wild man was tall
and thin, almost rivaling mister Lanardon in that respect. The
thin Roman nose and the blinky eyes, together with the
manner of holding the head on one' side, suggested a bird,
a large and dissipated flamingo for instance, mister Dorgan stared
with his mouth open. He stared so steadily that he
even took a telegram from the messenger boy, who entered
the tent and signed for it without looking at the address.
The messenger boy, too, stopped to stare at the Tasmanian flamingo.
The man who had brought the blue case set it
down and stared. The freaks gathered in front of the
cage and stared. What is it? Asked Cyrilla, in a
voice trembling with emotion. Say where in the USA did
you come from? Asked mister Dorgan. Suddenly, what in the
dickens are you anyway? I'm a Tasmanian wild man, said
mister Gubb mildly. You a Tasmanian wild man, said mister Dorgan.
You don't think you look like a Tasmanian wild man?
Do you? Why you look like you look like you?
You look? He looks like an intoxicated pterodactyl, said mister Lonergan,
who had some knowledge of prehistoric animals. Only harrier, he
looks like a human turkey with a piebald face, suggested
General Thumb. He don't look like nothing, said mister Dorgan,
at last, that's what he looks like. You get out
of that cage, he added sternly to mister Gubb, I
don't want nothing that looks like you nowhere near this show.
But mister Dorgan, dearie, think how he'd draw crowds, said Marilla. Crowds.
Of course, he'd draw crowds, said mister Dorgan. But what
would I say when I lectured about him? What would
I call him? No, he's got to go, boys, he
said to the four roustabouts, two of whom were those
mister Gubb had seen in the property tent. Throw this
feller out of the tent. Stop, said mister Gubb, raising
one hand. I will admit I have tried to deceive you.
I am not a Tasmanian wild man. I am a
detecative detective, said mister Dorgan. In disguise, said mister Gubb modestly.
In the detecative profession, the assuming of disguises is often
necessary to the completion of the clarification of a mystery plot.
He pointed down at the pet whose newly rouged and
powdered face rested smirkingly in the box below the cage.
I arrest you all he said, but before he could
complete the sentence, the red headed man and the black
headed man turned and bolted from the tent. Mister Gubb
beat and jerked at the bars of his cage as
frantically as mister Waldo Emerson's snooks had ever beaten and jerked,
but he could not rend them apart. Get those two fellers,
mister Gubb shouted to mister Hoxey, and the strong man
ran from the tent. What's this about, arrest, asked mister Dorgan.
I arrest this whole side show, said mister Gubb, pressing
his face between the bars of the cage, for the
murder of that poor gentle, harmless man, now a dead
corpse into that blue box there, mister Winterberry by name,
but called by you by the alias of the pet Winterbury,
exclaimed mister Dorgan. That Winterberry, That that ain't Winterberry. That's
a stone man, a made to order concrete man with
hollow tile stomach and reinforced concrete arms and legs. I
had him made to order. The criminal mind is well
equipped with explanations for use in time of stress, said
mister Gubb. Less than six of the Correspondent's school of detecating,
warns the detecative against explanations of murderers. When confronted by
the victim, I demand an autopsy onto mister Winterbury. Autopsy,
exclaimed mister Dorgan. I'll autopsy him for you. He grasped
one of the pet's hands and wrenched off one concrete arm.
He struck the head with a tense steak and shattered
it into a crumbling concrete He jerked the Roman tunic
from the body and disclosed the hollow tile stomach. Hello,
he said, lifting a rag wrapped parcel from the interior
of the pet. What's this? When unwrapped, it proved to
be two dozen silver forks and spoons and a good
sized silver trophy cup Riverbank Country Club Duffer's Golf Trophy
nineteen o nine, mister Dorgan read, won by Jonas Meadowbrook.
How did that get there? Jonas Meadowbrook said. Gubb is
a man of my own local town. He is is,
he said, mister Dorgan. And what's your name? Gub? Said
the detective Filo Gubb Esquire detecative and paperhanger, Riverbank, Iowa.
Then this is for you, said mister Dorgan, and he
handed the telegram to mister Gubb. The detective opened it
and read Gub care of Circus Bardville, Iowa. My house
robbed Circus Knight golf cup gone game now rotten. Never
win another five hundred dollar's reward for return to me
Jonas Meadowbrook. You didn't actually come here to find mister Winterbury,
did you, asked Syrilla. Mister Gubb folded the telegram, raised
his matted hair, and tucked the telegram between it and
his own hair for safe keeping. When a detecative starts
out to detect, he said calmly, sometimes he detects one thing,
and sometimes he detects another. That cup is one of
the things I detected today. And now, if all are willing,
I'll step outside and get my pants on. I'll feel
better and you'll look better, said mister Dorgan. You couldn't
look worse in the course of the detecative career, said
mister Gubb. A gent has to look a lot of
different ways, and I thank you for the compliment. The
art of disguising the human physiology is difficult. This disguise
is but one of many I am frequently called upon
to assume. Well, if any more like this one, said
mister Dorgan with sincerity. I'm lad I'm not a detective. Marilla, however,
heaved her several hundred pounds of bosom and cast her
eyes towards mister Gobb. I think detectives are lovely in
any disguise, she said, and mister Gobb's heart beat wildly.
And of the Pet by Ellis Parker Butler