The negro, thus trapped, told where he had hidden the turban, and in a few minutes Mr. Beech, Mr. Cross, and Mr. Green returned with Mrs. Phillipetti, on whose head again towered the turban with the Dragon’s Eye gleaming in it, making her “ongsomble” thoroughly “apropos.”
“Gubb,” said Mr. Beech, “I want Mrs. Phillipetti to meet you. You certainly are a wizard.”
“Yes, indeed!” said Mrs. Phillipetti. “The wizardry of your whole ongsomble is completely apropos to your detective ability.”
THE PROGRESSIVE MURDER
When Philo Gubb paid Mr. Medderbrook the one hundred dollars he had received for retrieving the Dragon’s Eye, Mr. Medderbrook was not extremely gracious.
“I’ll take it on account,” he said grudgingly, “but it ought to be more. It only brings what you owe me for that Utterly Hopeless Gold-Mine stock down to eleven thousand nine hundred dollars and, at this rate, you’ll never get me paid up. I can’t tell when there’ll come along another dividend of ten cumulative per cents on that stock, that I will have to charge up against you. Unless you can do better I have half a mind not to let you see the telegram I got from my daughter Syrilla this morning.”
“Was the news into it good?” asked Mr. Gubb eagerly.
“As good as gold,” said Mr. Medderbrook. “As good as Utterly Hopeless Gold-Mine stock.”