Judge Orley Morvis was the only Who’s Whoer in Riverbank, but the town was well represented in “Iowa’s Prominent Citizens,” and after collecting twenty dollars from the Judge the Bald Impostor proceeded to Mr. Gubb’s office.
“Detective and decorator,” he said to himself. “I wonder if William J. Burns has a son? Better not! A crank detective might know all about Burns. I’m his cousin. Let me see—I’m Jared Burns. Of Chicago. And mother has been to Denver for the air.” He took out the memorandum book again. “The Waffles-Mustard case. The Waffles-Mustard case. Waffles! Mustard! I must remember that.” He knocked on the door.
“Mr. Gubb?” he asked, as Philo Gubb opened the door. “Mr. Philo Gubb?”
“I am him, yes, sir,” said the paper-hanger detective. “Will you step inside into the room?”
“Thank you, yes,” said the Bald Impostor, as he entered.
Philo Gubb drew a chair to his desk, and the Bald Impostor took it. He leaned forward, ready to begin with the words, “Mr. Gubb, my name is Jared Burns. Mr. William J. Burns is my cousin—” when there came another rap at the door. Mr. Gubb’s visitor moved uneasily in his chair, and Mr. Gubb went to the door, dropping an open letter carelessly on the desk-slide before the Bald Impostor. The new visitor was an Italian selling oranges, and as Mr. Gubb had fairly to push the Italian out of the door, the Bald Impostor had time to read the letter and, quite a little ahead of time, began wiping perspiration from his forehead.
The letter was from the Headquarters of the Rising Sun Detective Agency, and was brutally frank in denouncing the Bald Impostor as an impostor, and painfully plain in describing him as bald. It described in the simplest terms his mode of getting money and it warned Mr. Gubb to be on the outlook for him “as he is supposed to be working in your district at present.” The Bald Impostor gasped. “A number of victims have organized,” continued the letter, “what they call the Easy Marks’ Association of America and have posted a reward of fifty dollars for the arrest of the fraud.”
The Bald Impostor glanced toward Philo Gubb and hastily turned the letter upside down. When Mr. Gubb returned, the Bald Impostor was rubbing the palms of his hands together and smiling.
“My name, Mr. Gubb,” he said, “is Allwood Burns. I am a detective. I have heard of your wonderful work in the so-called Muffins-Mustard case.”