“There’s a deep one at work here, but I bet he’ll have a shallow spot,” said the detective. “There’s a traitor in your own store. I had best pay for my goods and take them away. If I act the country customer, I will have an excuse for often dropping in. Good-day. I have been long enough here.”
Resuming his hat, Mr. Fitler left the office.
CHAPTER VII.
TROUBLE IN THE BASEMENT.
Mr. Abraham Smith, as the country customer called himself, paid for the small bill of goods which he had purchased.
“How shall we ship them?” asked the clerk.
“You needn’t mind. Just lay them by. Might have to buy something else before I go back and can have all sent together.”
“Very well,” said the clerk. “That will be all right.”
“I’ve got a deal to ’tend to, you see,” said Mr. Smith, confidentially. “Ain’t seen my city relatives fer two years, and they’re a bit r’iled about it. Good day, Mr.—What did you say your name was?”
“Harvey.”