“Sherlocking?” inquired Harry.
“Yes. Didn’t you ever read about Sherlock Holmes? He was some detective. Put it all over Nick Carter and a few others. Go to it, Kiddy, and beat him.”
“I will,” promised Harry. “Do you think——?”
“Where’s your check, madam?” Miss Welch had turned to a woman who had come up to the desk.
Harry walked away, reviewing the conversation he had overheard on that morning of over a week past. “I’ll watch,” he resolved, “and perhaps I’ll find out something. If only I could I’d be helping Mr. Rexford and Martin Brothers, too.”
[CHAPTER XXIII]
HARRY PAYS HIS DEBT
Harry made good his promise. For once fate seemed with him. A huge job lot of books, which it had taken him three days to bring from the stock-room to the first floor, was to be placed on sale in the department and the handling of this stock kept him busy on the floor, where he could see what went on.
The day before the sale he was detailed to work after the store had closed. The majority of the men in 85 had also been detained for night work and among them was Mr. Farley, the sleepy-eyed salesman.