She entered the store just as the old man was saying to the clerk in his quavering voice:
“... and five pounds of French sand, please.”
“I’m afraid you’ve almost bought us out of French sand these past few days, sir,” the clerk said. “Not very much demand for it here. But we should have some left. I’ll see.” He turned to go.
Vicki looked around the store. Mr. Tytell seemed to be alone. This was her chance to talk with him. She walked up to the counter and said, “Why, hello, Mr. Tytell.”
At the sound of her voice the old man turned and a smile broke over his lined face.
“Why—why, it’s Miss Barr.”
“You were in such a hurry the last time we met that I didn’t have much opportunity to say hello.”
She remembered the old man’s frantic plea: “I have to talk to you!” If he really did have something important to tell her, now was the time to draw it out.
“Mr. Duke said that you were working for him. He seems like a pleasant man.”
At the mention of Duke’s name the old man’s eyes again took on a frightened look. He nodded his head and for a second his eyes fell.