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“Excuse me for begging your pardon,” said Mr. Gubb, “but in the deteckative business questions have to be asked. Have you ever chanced to happen to notice some tattoo work upon the arm of Miss Syrilla of this side-show?”

“I have,” said Mr. Enderbury shortly.

“A pair of eagle’s claws,” said Mr. Gubb. “Can you tell me, from your knowledge and belief, if the work there done was the work of a Mr. Herr Schreckenheim?”

“I can tell you if I want to,” said Mr. Enderbury. “What do you want to know for?”

“If those claws are the work of Mr. Herr Schreckenheim,” said Mr. Gubb, “I am prepared to offer to Miss Syrilla her daughterly place in a home of wealth at Riverbank, Iowa. If those claws are Schreckenheim claws, Miss Syrilla is the daughter of Mr. Jonas Medderbrook of the said burg, beyond the question of a particle of doubt.”

Mr. Enderbury looked at Mr. Gubb with surprise.

“That’s non–” he began. “And if Schreckenheim did those claws, you’ll take Syrilla away from this show? Forever?” he asked.

“I will,” said Philo Gubb, “if she desires to wish to go.”

“Then I have nothing whatever to say,” said Mr. Enderbury, and he shut his mouth firmly; nor would he say more.

“Do you desire to wish me to understand that they are not the work of Mr. Herr Schreckenheim?” persisted Mr. Gubb.

“I have nothing to say!” said Mr. Enderbury.

“I consider that conclusive circumstantial evidence that they are,” said Detective Gubb, and he clanked out of the side-show.

Syrilla was still seated at the grub table, finishing her meal, and Mr. Gubb seated himself opposite her. As delicately as he could, he told of Jonas Medderbrook and his lost daughter, of the home of wealth that awaited that daughter, and finally, of his belief that Syrilla was that daughter. It was clear that Syrilla was quite willing to take up a life of refinement and dieting if she was given an opportunity such as Mr. Gubb was able to offer in the name of Jonas Medderbrook; and, this being so, he questioned her regarding the eagle’s claws.

“Mr. Gubb,” she said, “I wish to die on the spot if I know how I got them claws tattooed onto me. If you ask me, I’ll say it is the mystery of my life. They’ve been on me since I was a little girl no bigger than–why, who is that?”

Mr. Gubb turned his head quickly, but he was not in time to see a plump, good-natured looking little German-American slip quickly out of sight behind the cook tent. Neither did he see the glitter of the sun on a large silver golf cup the plump German-American carried under his arm; but the German-American had recognized Mr. Gubb, even through his disguise of a cowboy.

“No matter,” said Syrilla. “But these claws have been on my arm since I was a wee little girl, Mr. Gubb. I always thought they was a trademark of a hospital.”

“I was not knowingly aware that hospitals had trademarks,” said Mr. Gubb.

“Maybe they don’t,” said Syrilla. “But when I was a small child I had an accident and had to be took to a hospital, and it wasn’t until after that that anybody saw the eagle’s claws on me. I considered that maybe it was like the mark the laundry puts on a handkerchief it has laundered.”

“I don’t know much about the manners of the ways of hospitals,” admitted Mr. Gubb, “and that may be so, but I have another idea. Did you ever hear of Mr. Herr Schreckenheim?”

“Only that Mr. Enderbury is always cross on the days of the month that he gets Mr. Schreckenheim’s statements of money due. Mr. Schreckenheim is the man that tattooed Mr. Enderbury so beautiful, but poor Mr. Enderbury has never been able to pay him in full.”

Philo Gubb arose.

“I am going to telegraph Mr. Medderbrook to come on to West Higgins immediately by the three P.M. afternoon train,” he said, “and you will meet him as your paternal father and arrange to make your home with him as soon as you desire to wish it.”