hat mentions Mrs. Doblin, or this side that
mentions Mrs. Kinsey? Which was it?"

Mr. Gubb took the paper and examined it carefully. He turned it over
and over.

"Couldn't say," he said briefly.

"In other words," said Mr. Burch, "you signed one side before Mr.
Bilton signed and one side after he signed, but you don't know which?"

"Yes, sir, I don't," said Mr. Gubb.

"So," said Judge Mackinnon, with a smile, "you can swear you signed
both these wills as witness, but you have no idea which you signed
last, Mr. Gubb."

"E-zactly so!" said Mr. Gubb with emphasis.

"Now, just a minute," said Mr. Burch. "One of these Bilton signatures
is 'M. Bilton' and the other is 'Max Bilton.' You don't recall which
was on the paper when you signed, do you?"

"Mr. Burch," said Mr. Gubb, "I wasn't taking no extra time to find out
if a no-account feller like Mustard Bilton signed his name M. or Max
or Methuselah. No, sir."

"Do you know where Mustard Bilton is now?" asked Judge Mackinnon.

"Don't know," said Mr. Gubb.

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--"

Emotion choked her words.

"I know it sounds foolish to ask a detective to look for a dog," she
said with a poor attempt at a smile, "but--"

"In the deteckative line nothing sounds foolish," said Mr. Gubb wi