The shopkeeper shrugged his shoulders—if he only would talk, thought
Cora.
Cora counted out fifty dollars. The man watched her greedily. It was twenty-five dollars more than he had bargained to sell the table for. Why should he lose so much?
"May I have it?" pressed Cora.
"Well, I never before did that but he should have left a deposit," said the man.
Quicker than the girl dreamed she could do it, Cora paid the man, actually grabbed the table herself and ran out of the shop with it and thrust it into the front of the Whirlwind among the flowers, cranked up her car and darted off.
Her face was so white that she frightened Gertrude. "Don't ask any questions, dear," she said to the latter. "I must meet Clip. She has gone for a detective."
Just around the corner came Clip, and with her an officer in plain clothes. Cora swung in to the curb.
"I have it! I have it!" she exclaimed to Clip. "Is this the officer?" she asked. "And have you told him the book was stolen?"
"Oh, don't worry about the details, miss," replied the officer. "We have that thing to do every day. These fellows take anything they can get, and that being the book of a cripple, I will take chances on getting it. You may be asked to explain fully, later."
"Oh, thank you so much!" cried Cora, almost overcome. "To think we may bring both the table and the book home to Wren!"