ading to the store, and from there into the store itself.
And then suddenly, in spite of caution, his foot slipped on the bare
floor. It was not much--just enough to cause his other foot, poised
tentatively in air, to come heavily down, and a loud and complaining
creak echoed from the floor.

Jimmie Dale's jaws snapped like a steel trap. From down the corridor
came a sudden, excited exclamation in the little old lady's voice, and
then her steps sounded running toward the store. In the fraction of a
second Jimmie Dale was at the front door.

"Clumsy, blundering fool!" he whispered fiercely to himself as he turned
the key, opened the door noiselessly until it was just ajar, and turned
the key in the lock again, leaving the bolt protruding out. One step
backward, and he was rapping on the counter with his knuckles. "Isn't
anybody here?" he called out loudly. "Isn't any--oh!"--as Mrs. Matthews
appeared in the back doorway. "A package of cigarettes, please."

She stared at him, a little frightened, her eyes red and swollen with
recent crying.

"How--how did you get in here?" she asked tremendously.

"I beg your pardon?" inquired Jimmie Dale, in polite surprise.

"I--I locked the door--I'm sure I did," she said, more to herself than
to Jimmie Dale, and hurried across the floor to the door as she spoke.

Jimmie Dale, still politely curious, turned to watch her. For a moment
bewilderment and a puzzled look were in her face--and then a sort of
surprised relief.

"I must have turned the key in the lock without shutting the door
tight," she explained, "for I knew I turned the key."

Jimmie Dale bent forward to examine the lock--and nodded.

"Yes," he agreed, with a smile. "I should say so." Then, gravely
courteous: "I'm sorry to have intruded."

"It is nothing," she answered; and, evidently anxious to be rid of him,
moved quickly around behind the counter. "What kind of cigarettes do you
want?"

"Egyptians--any kind," said Jimmie Dale, laying a bill on the counter.

He pocketed the cigarettes and his change, and turned to the door.

"Good-evening," he said pleasantly--and went out.

Jimmie Dale smiled a little curiously, a little tolerantly. As he
started along the street, he heard the door of the little shop close
with a sort of supercareful bang, the key turned, and the latch rattle
to try the door--the little old lady was bent on making no mistake a
second time!

And then the smile left Jimmie Dale's lips, hi