“Hands up!” he said.
Instantly Mr. Witzel raised his hands in the air.
“I’ll give you seventy dollars,” he said.
“Make it seventy-five,” said Mr. Gubb, “and as soon as I’m done with it, you can have it.”
“It’s a bargain!” said Mr. Witzel happily. “It’s my pistol. Now, what’s all this nonsense about shooting me?”
“Nonsense is an insufficient word to use in relation to this here case,” said Philo Gubb grimly. “It won’t be nonsense for you when you get through with it. What did you do with the corpse?”
“With the—with the what?” cried Mr. Witzel.
“The remains,” said Mr. Gubb. “What did you do with them?”
“The remains of what?” asked Mr. Witzel.
“Of Mister Custer Master,” said Philo Gubb, easing himself a little by shifting one waving foot. “There is no need to pretend to play innocent. Where is the body?”