“Look at that!” she cried in a low voice.
And well might she have been amazed. For there, in the center of the crowd, his arm grasped tightly by the big floor walker, was Henry Bristow.
His face was red and he was plainly very angry. However, he was making no effort to release himself. He controlled himself with an effort and spoke.
“I tell you you are making a mistake,” he said quietly, and his voice carried to the two girls.
“Is that so?” sneered the floor walker. “So you deny you are a shop-lifter, eh? Well, I didn’t suppose you would admit it. How do you account for the possession of this valuable piece of lace the clerk saw you getting away with?”
“It must have caught on my coat,” was the reply. “I didn’t try to steal it.”
“You didn’t, eh? We’ll see as soon as the house detective arrives. I reckon you have plenty of stuff stowed away in your pockets.”
“Well, I haven’t,” declared Bristow angrily. “You’re going to be sorry for this before you get through.”
“Well what do you think of that?” demanded Mabel, who had stood with open mouth during this conversation.
“I think that he is innocent,” declared Shirley.