Herc saw that a small, spectacled Japanese had glided rather than stepped in behind the counter, and now stood regarding the new customer with a face that might as well have been a mask for all the expression it conveyed.
It is a curious fact, but Herc, who up to that moment had acted the part of a bold investigator, suddenly found himself embarrassed. He struggled to find an answer to the simple question that had been put to him. This Jap behind the counter regarded him with growing suspicion.
"You come in for something—a cigar, maybe?" he purred.
"Yes—oh, yes,—give me—give me a box of matches," blurted out Herc desperately.
"A box of matches? Veree well."
The Jap turned deftly to the show cases behind him, and inserting a long fingered hand in a drawer, drew out the required article. Herc fumbled in his pocket for the change necessary, but in so doing he drew out a navy button, cut from his first uniform, with the small silver.
As he extended a nickel across the counter, with no very clear idea as to what he was to do next, he had the misfortune, for so he presently perceived it to be, to drop this pocket piece.
It fell with a jingling sound and before he could pick it up, the Jap was out from behind the counter and had grasped and was extending it to him.
"A navee button," said he suavely. "The honorable gentleman is in the service of the so estimable Uncle Sam?"