“Charles Augustus Witzel,” said Gribble, correctingly.
“I have so many aliases I forget them,” said Mr. Witzel to Mr. Gubb. “You’ll understand that perfectly. You are a detective, and I’m a detective, Witzel or Wotzel or Wutzel—who cares? We understand each other. Don’t we?”
“I presume to suppose we will do so in the course of time,” said Philo Gubb politely.
“Pre-cise-ly!” said Mr. Witzel. “So I said to Gribble, ‘I’m afraid of Gubb! He’s the man who will find Master, if I don’t. But I’ve got an advantage. I’ve got the clue.’”
He pointed to the suitcase.
“So Gribble says to me,” said Mr. Witzel, “‘Why don’t you and Gubb combine?’ ‘Great idea!’ I says, and—here I am. How about it, Mr. Gobb?”
“Gubb is the name I adhere to when not deteckating,” said Mr. Gubb kindly. “And as to how about it, I wouldn’t want to enter into a combination shutting me out from using the ability taught to me in Chapters One to Twelve inclusive, of the Correspondence course. For the twenty-five hundred which would fall to my share, I should expect to detect to some considerable extent.”
“Quite right! Quite right!” said Mr. Witzel promptly. “That meets my plans entirely. I make my headquarters here, I give you a free hand. I am a—an inductive detective.”
“Yes, sir. A Sherlock Holmes deteckative,” said Philo Gubb.
“Ex-act-ly!” said Mr. Witzel. “I think things out. But you go out. You shadow and snoop and trail. I remain here. For you see,” he added, “I’m so well known that if Master saw me he would disappear instantly. Instantly!”