"
"Mr. Hardy," called a voice at the foot of the stairs. "Come down,
quick; you are wanted! There's a shop-lifter over in the hosiery
department!"
Mr. Hardy stopped long enough to hear the words, then he made his way
directly to the department mentioned.
He paused at the counter and began examining some goods, and as he did
so one of the clerks came up to him as though she expected to wait on
him.
"Is this the one?" muttered the detective under his breath, at the same
time making a slight motion toward the woman.
"Can't say," whispered the clerk. "I just missed the goods. There were
six pairs of hose--they all went together."
Hardy glanced again at the woman, whose face was drawn and haggard. She
was by far the poorest customer at the counter.
"'Taint's no use tacklin' them others," he whispered to the clerk, "for
if I ever nabbed a rich one she'd make things lively for me--but I guess
it's the poor one that's got 'em, anyway."
"She looks desperate," answered the clerk, leaning over the counter.
"And, you know, she could sell 'em and make a little something."
Hardy nodded knowingly, with his keen glance still on the woman. As she
moved slowly away from the counter he followed her at a distance.
Five minutes later she had reached the ribbon department.
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