sed.

"I can't do it! It kills me; I can't do it!" he was muttering to
himself. "I never could do it. I said so."

The next news of Mr. Master was gained from the keeper of a bath-house
and swimming-pool known as the Imperial Natatorium. About ten o'clock,
Mr. Master entered the Natatorium hurriedly, asked the price of baths,
and chose to pay for a plunge in the big swimming-pool. He paid in
advance, removed his garments in one of the small dressing-rooms, put
on a swimming-suit and went to the edge of the big pool. Here he
grasped the rail and extended one foot until his toes touched the cold
water, when he uttered a cry, rushed to the dressing-room, and, as
soon as he had thrown on his clothes, dashed from the building. That
was the last seen of Mr. Master.

Philo Gubb, having finished reading Lesson Eleven for the third time,
had picked up the Chicago paper when the silence of the Opera House
Building was disturbed by the sound of feet ascending the brass-clad
stairs.

The nocturnal visitors seemed unacquainted with the building, for,
after two or three steps had been taken, one lighted a match. It was
evident to the detective that these visitors were reading the names on
the doors as they progressed along the corridor, and he was about to
extinguish his lamp and prepare for the worst, when the two men
stopped again, struck a match, and, after an instant's hesitation,
rapped sharply upon his door.

"Come in!" called Philo Gubb, at the same time drawing his bed-sheet
over his scantily clad legs. He knotted the sheet behind, like an
apron, and arose to greet the comers. They were two. One of them Mr.
Gubb recognized at once; he was Billy Gribble, proprietor of the Gold
Star Hand Laundry, just across the way on Main Street. The other man
was a stranger.

Under his arm, Billy Gribble carried a long, cylindrical parcel
enclosed in heavy wrapping paper. The parcel was about six feet long
and nearly as large around as Billy himself. Under his other arm,
Billy carried a second parcel. This was about three feet square. The
trained eye of Detective Gubb noted all this at a glance. Billy
Gribble dropped the two parcels on the floor.

"Gubby, old sport!" he said in his noisy way, "this is--"

"Now, now!" said the stranger irritably. "Now, wait! I said I would
talk to him, didn't I? What do you mean by--if you'll please let--you
are Detective Gubb, are you not?" he asked.

Philo Gubb gazed at the man. The man was tall