"If you are sure the Stetson belonged to the man in the automobile–to the man whom you thought was your father—"
"I'll take my solemn Alfred on that!"
"Well, if this is the man's business card, it proves that the man is J. Lopez–and he can't be your father."
"That's not his business card, Clancy."
"How do you know?"
"There was two gilt letters pasted in the crown o' that Stetson, and them letters was 'U. H.' Sabe? My dad's name is Upton Hill."
Clancy was suitably impressed.
"Well, who's this J. Lopez and the Fortunatus Syndicate?" he inquired. "Those are two things we ought to find out."
"I'm wise to the Fortunatus Syndicate, all right," said Hill. "You remember I was down in Tia Juana, that time I got hornswoggled out o' five hundred dollars by Gerald Wynn. Well, I heard about this Fortunatus Syndicate while I was in the place. Some Americanos are planning a gambling resort, just across the boundary line, and they call their company the Fortunatus Syndicate."
"And your dad's mixed up with it, Hiram? That doesn't speak very well for him."