me tartly from Corrigan.

"Still, he can keep his peepers open, eh, youngster?"

He smiled down upon Christopher from beneath his shaggy brows, and
Christopher smiled back. There was something very likeable about
Corrigan.

"I'll look alive," grinned the boy. "Only of course you know this kill
was just a fluke."

The modest words evidently pleased the inspector.

"That's all right," said he. "You may make another. Who knows?"

He patted the lad's shoulder encouragingly and in friendly fashion
added:

"Nobody bags a diamond robber every day."

They went out--Mr. Burton, his son, and the two clerks.

"We may as well go to luncheon now," announced Christopher's father,
when the men had left them. "Where shall we go? We'll have a real
celebration in honor of Stuart's capture."

"Poor Stuart!" murmured the lad.

"Mercy on us! Surely you are not regretting that you landed him in
jail."

"No-o. Still, I'm sorry for him."

"Of course. We're always sorry to see a person of his ability go wrong.
But he has only himself to thank for his fate. He might have known at
the outset where he would bring up. They all are trapped sooner or
later."

"I suppose so."

"Come, come, son! Don't go wasting any romantic sympathy on Stuart--or
whatever his name is. He wouldn't appreciate it. Why, he would rob us
again to-morrow if he got the chance," the head of the firm asserted
harshly.

"Probably he would."

"You know he would."

"Y-es. But he was such a good sport."

"He knew there was nothing to be gained by whining and making himself
disagreeable."

Nevertheless, in spite of his father's arguments, Christopher could not
entirely put the unlucky Stuart out of his mind. Nor did the fried
scallops, grilled sweet potatoes, and salad which his father ordered for
him wholly blot out a lurking depression or the haunting memory of the
criminal's face. It took two chocolate ice creams and an ample square of
fudge cake to dispel his gloom and bring his spirits back to their
accustomed cheerfulness.

By the time he and his father returned to the store, however, they were
practically normal, and he ascended to the fourth floor to hunt up
McPhearson, who amid the general excitement he had left somewhat
abruptly.

"Well, so you landed your light-fingered friend, did you, laddie?"
remarked the Scotchman.

"Mr. Corrigan did."

"It was thanks to you, I guess."

"Partly!"

"Humph! You don't seem very triumphant about it."