McGlory let off a roar of laughter. Carl straightened up with a pained look on his fat face.
"Carl," cried McGlory, "you're a great sleuth, and no mistake! You jump at too many conclusions."
"Dere don'd vas anyt'ing else to chump ad," returned Carl. "Dis vas a dark case, you bed you, und dere has to be some guessings. Dot's vat I make now, der guessings."
"Pretty woolly guessing, at that, and——"
McGlory broke off abruptly to follow a sudden movement on Matt's part. The canvas forming the side of the menagerie tent had shaken, as though there was some one on the other side of it. Matt, seeing the shiver of the canvas, leaped for the wall. The next moment he had lifted the canvas and was looking into the other tent.
A tall, brown-faced man, wearing a turban and an embroidered jacket, was just vanishing through the tent entrance. Matt dropped the canvas and turned away, a thoughtful look taking the place of the smile with which he had listened to Carl's talk.
"What was it, pard?" asked McGlory.
"An eavesdropper," replied Matt.
"Speak to me about that!" exclaimed McGlory. "If some one thought the Dutchman's yarn worth listening to, then perhaps there's something in it."
"Perhaps." Motor Matt's brow wrinkled perplexedly.