“Won’t he come out?” asked Philo Gubb, puzzled.
“No, he won’t!” said Attorney Mullen. “I begged him to, but he said, ‘No! Not until Philo Gubb gets to the bottom of this case.’ But should we, as citizens, and as members of the Prohibition Party, permit you, Mr. Gubb, to land Aunt Martha Turner in the calaboose?”
“Well, if what I find out, when I get down from this ladder and start to work, sends her there, I don’t see that I can help it,” said Philo Gubb. “Deteckative work is a science, as operated by them that has studied in the Rising Sun Deteckative Agency’s Correspondence School of Deteckating—”
“Snooks says he don’t know anything about any beer,” said Nan Kilfillan, entering hastily, and then pausing, as she saw Mr. Mullen.
“Did you tell him it was upstairs, in bed?” asked Philo Gubb.
“In his room? In his bed?” said Attorney Mullen eagerly. “Why, that puts an entirely different aspect on the matter! That gives me, as City Attorney, all the proof I shall need to convict the respectable Miss Martha Turner and her honorable nephew of the ‘Eagle.’ And, by the gods! I will convict them!”
He glared at Mrs. Wilmerton. Nan broke into sobs.
“Unless,” he added gently, “this whole matter is dropped.”
Philo Gubb took out all the money he had received and counted it, sitting cross-legged on the ladder.
“I guess,” he said thoughtfully, “you had better run up to the jail and tell Snooksy I want to see him right away, Miss Kilfillan. Maybe he can stretch the jail that much again. Tell him I’m just going to get down from this ladder and start to work, and I want to ask his advice.”