“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.