The three lawyers consulted for a minute or two. Then the Judge turned to Gubb again.
“And did Mr. O’Hara say anything more on the occasion when you signed the will?” asked the Judge.
“He said, ‘Thank you,’” said Mr. Gubb. “He said, ‘Thank you, Sherlock Holmes.’”
Higgins and Burch laughed, and even the Judge smiled, and they told Mr. Gubb he could go.
An hour or three quarters of an hour after he had been called to identify his signature to the wills, a gentle tap at Mr. Gubb’s door caused him to look up from the pamphlet—Lesson Four, Rising Sun Detective Agency’s Correspondence School of Detecting—he was reading.
“Come on right in,” he called, and in answer the door opened and a young woman entered. She was a sweet-faced, modest-appearing girl, and when she pushed back her veil, Mr. Gubb saw she had been weeping, for her eyes were red. Mr. Gubb hastily pulled out his desk chair.
“Take a seat and set down, ma’am,” he said politely. “Is there anything in my lines I can be doing for you to-day?”
“Are you Mr. Philo Gubb?” she asked, seating herself.
“Yes’m, paper-hanging and deteckating done,” he said.
“It’s about a dog, my dog,” said the young woman. “He’s lost, or stolen, and—”