e it." The man's cool persistency again irritated him.
"I buy dot for a present and I--Look here vunce! Vat you come in here
for an' ask dose questions? I never see you before. Dis is my busy time.
Now you put yourselluf outside my place."

The detective made a step forward, turned his back on the rest of the
shop, unbuttoned his outer coat, lifted the lapel of the inner one, and
uncovered his shield.

"Come across," he said, in low, cutting tones, "and don't get gay. I'm
not after you--but you gotter help, see! I've traced this mantilla down
to this shop. Now cough it up! If you've bought it on the level, I've
got a roll here will square it up with you."

Otto gave a muffled whistle. "Den dot fellow vas a tief, vas he? He
didn't look like it, for sure. Vell--vell--vell--dot's funny! Vy, I
vouldn't have tought dot. Look like a quiet man, and--"

"You remember the man, then?" interrupted the detective, following up
his advantage, and again scraping his chin with his forefinger.

"Oh, yes. I don't forgot him. Vore a buttoned-up coat--high like up to
his chin--"

"And a slouch-hat?" prompted Pickert.

"Yes, vun of dose soft hats, for I tink de light hurt his eyes ven he
come close up to my desk ven I gif him de money."

"And had a sort of a catch-look, a kind of a slant in his eye,
didn't he?" supplemented Pickert; "and was smooth-shaven and--on the
whole--rather decent-looking chap, just getting on his uppers and not
quite. Ain't that it?"

"Yes, maybe, I don't recklemember everyting about him. Vell--vell--ain't
dot funny? But he vasn't a dead beat--no, I don't tink so. An' he stole
it? You vud never tink dot to see him. I got it in my little office,
behind dot partition, in a drawer. You come along. To-morrow is New
Year's"--here he glanced up the stairs to be sure that Masie was out of
hearing--"and I bought dat lace for a present for my little girl vat you
saw joost now--she loves dem old tings. She has got more as a vardrobe
full of dem. Vait till I untie it. Look! Ain't dot a good vun? And all I
pay for it vas tventy tollars."

The detective loosened the folds, shook out the flounce, held it up to
the light, and ran his thumb through the tear in the mesh.

"Of course dere's a hole--I buy him cheaper for dot hole--my little
Beesving like it better for dot. If it vas new she vouldn't have it."

Pickert was now caressing the soft lace, his satisfaction complete. "A
dead give-away," he said at last. "Much o