Tom's words were interrupted by a sudden action on the part of the jeweler. Mr. Track ran from behind the showcase and hastened toward the front door.
“Did you see him, Tom?” he cried. “I wonder which way he went?”
“Who?” asked the lad, following the shopkeeper.
“That man. He's been walking up and down in front of my place for the last ten minutes—ever since you've been in here, in fact, and I don't like his looks.”
“What did he do?”
“Nothing much, except to stare in here as if he was sizing my place up.”
“Sizing it up?”
“Yes. Getting the lay of the land, so he or some confederate could commit a robbery, maybe.”
“A robbery? Do you think that man was a thief?”
“I don't know that he was, Tom, and yet a jeweler has to be always on the watch, and that isn't a joke, either, Tom Swift. Swindlers and thieves are always on the alert for a chance to rob a jewelry store, and they work many games.”