ill," 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. Schrec