you a cent!" exclaimed the voice of Mr. Enderbury. "I've
paid you for every bit of tattoo I have on me."

"Seven hunderdt dollars vos der contract," cried the voice of Herr
Schreckenheim. "Und ten dollars is due me yet. I vant it."

"Well, you'll keep on wanting it," said Mr. Enderbury's voice. "Look
here! Look at my chest. There's the eagle you did on me--do you see
any claws on it? No, you don't! Well, I'm not going to pay for claws
that are not on me. No, sir!"

"Claws? I do some claws on you, don't I, ven I do dot eagle?" asked
the German-American.

"Yes, but they're not on me now, are they?" asked Mr. Enderbury, "You
can go and collect from the person that has them. What do I care for
her now? She's going to quit the circus business. I've paid for all
the tattoo that's on me; you go and collect ten dollars for those
claws from Syrilla."

"Und how does she get those claws on her?" asked Herr Schreckenheim
shrewdly.

"I'll tell you how," said Mr. Enderbury. "You remember when Griggs' &
Barton's Circus burned down years ago? Well, Syrilla was burned in
that fire--burned on the arm--and they took her to a hospital and her
arm wouldn't heal. So somebody had to furnish some skin for a
skin-grafting job, and I did it. The piece they took had those claws
on it. That's what happened. I gave those eagle's claws to cure her,
and I've hung around her all these years like a faithful dog, and she
don't care a hang for me, and now she's going away. Go and collect for
those claws from her. I haven't got them. She's going to be rich; she
can pay you!"

Simultaneously there was an exclamation from Mr. Medderbrook, a cry
from Syrilla, and a short, sharp yell from outside the tent. Mr. Gubb
entered, spurs first, creeping backward under the canvas. As he backed
from under the platform it was observed that he held a shoe--about No.
8 size--in one hand, and that a foot was in the shoe, and the foot on
a leg, and the leg on a short, plump, elderly German-American, who
yelled as he was dragged into the tent on his back. In one hand of the
German-American was a large silver golf cup with a deep dent on one
side. As Mr. Gubb arose to his feet, still holding the German-American
tattoo artist's foot in his hand, he said:--

"Mr. Medderbrook, the deteckative business is not always completely
satisfactory in all kinds of respects, and it looks as if it appeared
that the daughter I found for you is somebody else's, but if you will
loo