“Vell, if it’s business, and you don’t mean noddin, dot’s anudder ting,” replied Kling, in a milder tone, “maybe den I tell you.  Run avay, Masie, I got someting private to say.  Dot’s right.  You go talk to Mrs. Gossburger—­ Yes,” he added, as the child disappeared, “I did buy a big lace shawl like dot.”

Pickert’s grin covered half his face.  He could get along now without a search-warrant.  “And have you got it now?”

“Yes, I got it now.”

The grin broadened—­the triumphant grin of a boy when he hears the click of a trap and knows the quarry is inside.

“Can I see it?”

“No, you can’t see it.”  The man’s cool persistency again irritated him.  “I buy dot for a present and I—­ Look here vunce!  Vat you come in here for an’ ask dose questions?  I never see you before.  Dis is my busy time.  Now you put yourselluf outside my place.”

The detective made a step forward, turned his back on the rest of the shop, unbuttoned his outer coat, lifted the lapel of the inner one, and uncovered his shield.

“Come across,” he said, in low, cutting tones, “and don’t get gay.  I’m not after you—­but you gotter help, see!  I’ve traced this mantilla down to this shop.  Now cough it up!  If you’ve bought it on the level, I’ve got a roll here will square it up with you.”

Otto gave a muffled whistle.  “Den dot fellow vas a tief, vas he?  He didn’t look like it, for sure.  Vell—­ vell—­vell—­dot’s funny!  Vy, I vouldn’t have tought dot.  Look like a quiet man, and—­”

“You remember the man, then?” interrupted the detective, following up his advantage, and again scraping his chin with his forefinger.

“Oh, yes.  I don’t forgot him.  Vore a buttoned-up coat—­high like up to his chin—­”

“And a slouch-hat?” prompted Pickert.

“Yes, vun of dose soft hats, for I tink de light hurt his eyes ven he come close up to my desk ven I gif him de money.”

“And had a sort of a catch-look, a kind of a slant in his eye, didn’t he?” supplemented Pickert; “and was smooth-shaven and—­on the whole—­rather decent-looking chap, just getting on his uppers and not quite.  Ain’t that it?”

“Yes, maybe, I don’t recklemember everyting about him.  Vell—­vell—­ain’t dot funny?  But he vasn’t a dead beat—­no, I don’t tink so.  An’ he stole it?  You vud never tink dot to see him.  I got it in my little office, behind dot partition, in a drawer.  You come along.  To-morrow is New Year’s”—­here he glanced up the stairs to be sure that Masie was out of hearing—­“and I bought dat lace for a present for my little girl vat you saw joost now—­she loves dem old tings.  She has got more as a vardrobe full of dem.  Vait till I untie it.  Look!  Ain’t dot a good vun?  And all I pay for it vas tventy tollars.”

The detective loosened the folds, shook out the flounce, held it up to the light, and ran his thumb through the tear in the mesh.