"Ah, I see. It's for your housekeeper, Mrs. Baggert. Well, I
think she would like a pin of this sort. True, it's rather
expensive, but--"

"No, it isn't for Mrs. Baggert, Mr. Track," and Tom seemed a
bit embarrassed.

"No? Well, then, Tom--of course it's none of my affair, except
to sell you a good stone, But if this brooch is for a young lady,
I can't recommend anything nicer. Do you think you will take
this; or do you prefer to look at some others?"

"Oh, I think this will do, Mr. Track. I guess I'll take--"

Tom's Words were interrupted by a sudden action on the part of
the jeweler. Mr. Track ran from behind the showcase and hastened
toward the front door.

"Did you see him, Tom?" he cried. "I wonder which way he went?"

"Who?" asked the lad, following the shopkeeper.

"That man. He's been walking up and down in front of my place
for the last ten minutes--ever since you've been in here, in
fact, and I don't like his looks."

"What did he do?"

"Nothing much, except to stare in here as if he was sizing my