“I――I don’t know about that,” responded the other. “Seems to me he’d be likely to stay around where the crowd was thickest, and perhaps he’d try to keep near a door in case he had to――to leave hurriedly.” “That’s so, Toby. You’re a regular Sherlock Holmes! All right. The crowd’s about as thick right here as it is anywhere. Have a look. Do you see him?” Arnold was beginning to enjoy the task now and tried to look as much like his conception of a sleuth as he could. Toby, backed against a counter at one side of the big entrance peered and craned for several minutes, but finally announced that he didn’t see the quarry. So they began a pilgrimage of the lower floor, pausing wherever the crowd was densest. Near the elevators they found a point of vantage and spent quite ten minutes but without result other than being pushed and elbowed and trod on. From there they went on to the foot of a central stairway and again took up their watch. But no red-mustached, brown-overcoated individual rewarded their sight, although they both more than once thrilled with the prospect of success at sight of a brown garment in the throng. They spent more than half an hour in that store, and Arnold’s enthusiasm was waning fast by the time Toby acknowledged defeat and led the way toward the big doorway. “I guess it’s no use,” sighed Toby. “He’s a goner. And so’s my money.” “Well, I told you that in the first place,” said Arnold, just a trifle peevishly by reason of having been shoved around and bumped into until he felt, as he told himself, like a wreck. “Want to try any other place? It’s nearly twelve and――” He stopped suddenly, for Toby’s hand was gripping his arm painfully. “_There he is!_” whispered Toby. “_Look! Over by the umbrellas!_” CHAPTER IV THE CAPTURE Arnold’s gaze sped in the direction indicated, but for an instant the crowd interfered. “Are you sure?” he asked incredulously. “Yes,” whispered Toby. “I saw him! Now look, Arn!” Well, whether he was the man who had taken Toby’s purse or not, at least he tallied surprisingly with Toby’s description. He was standing with his back to the counter in front of a fan-shaped display of ladies’ umbrellas, looking impatiently and frowningly about him for all the world like a man kept waiting at an appointment. So well did he look the part, in fact, that Arnold was quite certain that Toby must be wrong. But a closer examination of the man convinced him that he was only acting, for the eyes under the pulled-down brim of a black felt hat darted swiftly hither and thither, reminding Arnold too much of a hawk. Some twenty feet of aisle space, crowded with shoppers, separated the boys from the man in the brown overcoat, and it was only by raising himself on his tiptoes that Arnold could catch brief glimpses of the latter. “What are you going to do?” Arnold whispered excitedly. Toby deliberated. Then he shook his head. “I don’t know. If there was a policeman here――”