"I'm afraid so. But let's not talk about that. You say you're hot on the trail of your father. Tell me about it."
Hiram started with the Chinese procession at Sixth and Main Streets. Very earnestly he told how he had disrupted the dragon, and he described other events that happened down to the point where he found himself with the extra Stetson in his hand.
"That hat," declared Hiram, "sure belonged to dad. I got it away from him somehow, and I hung to it all the while my wits was woolgatherin' and I was bein' toted to a drug store. Then I— Say, what you laughin' at?"
Clancy had been enjoying Hill's recital to the limit it would be hard to mix six dozens of eggs, a Chinese dragon, and a runaway monkey into a small-sized riot and not get a little fun out of it. The sober, matter-of-fact way in which Hiram narrated the details added to the humor of the story.
"Never mind what I'm laughing at, Hiram," sputtered Clancy, wiping his eyes. "You say you found something under the sweatband of that Stetson. What was it?"
"A card. Here it is."
Hill thrust a hand into one of his pockets and drew forth an oblong square of pasteboard. This he handed to his companion.
"Sr. J. Lopez," was the name on the card, followed by the address: "Avalon, Catalina Island, California." Then in the lower left-hand corner, were the words: "Representing the Fortunatus Syndicate, of Tia Juana, Mexico."
"What do you make out of this, Hiram?" the motor wizard asked.
"What do you make out of it?" countered Hill.