Billy found Philo Gubb at work in the house on Tenth Street, hanging paper on the second floor, and the lank detective looked at Billy solemnly as the story of the Griscom affair was explained to him.
“When I started in takin’ lessons from the Rising Sun Deteckative Agency’s Correspondence School of Deteckating,” said Mr. Gubb solemnly, “I aimed to do a strictly retail business in deteckating, and let the wholesale alone.”
“Seeing that you learned by mail,” said Billy Getz, “I should think you’d be better fitted to do a mail-order business.”
“Them terms of retail and wholesale is my own,” said Mr. Gubb.
“You don’t believe anybody would un-burgle a house, I guess,” said Billy.
“Yes, I do,” Philo Gubb said. “A fellow can tie a knot, or he can un-tie it, can’t he? He can hitch a horse, or he can un-hitch it. And if a man can burgle, he can un-burgle. A mercenary burglar would naturally burgle things out of a house after he had burgled himself in, but a generous-hearted burglar would just as naturally un-burgle things into a house and then un-burgle himself out. That stands to reason.”
“Of course it does,” said Billy Getz. “And I knew you would see it that way.”
“I see things reasonable,” said Philo Gubb. “But I guess I won’t take up the case; un-burgling ain’t no common crime. It ain’t mentioned in the twelve lessons I got from the Rising Sun Correspondence School. I wouldn’t hardly know how to go about catching an un-burglar—”
“Just do the opposite from what it says to do to catch a burglar,” said Billy Getz. “Common sense would tell you that, wouldn’t it? But, listen, Mr. Gubb: I’d let Wittaker catch his own burglars. The reason I ask you to take this case is because I know you have a good heart.”