Then he smiled good-bye, took his pistachio-nuts, and left the store. He went along the street, studying the sign over each door. He was searching for Habib Mahaleb. Down one street and up another went Willie, but with no success. Finally on the window of almost the only Oriental store remaining, Willie found the name he was searching for. The place seemed to be a business house of considerable size. Willie entered and asked for a dime’s worth of pistachio nuts. A clerk promptly took from a shelf a tin can exactly similar to the one the other merchant had emptied, and weighed out the nuts. The clerk was a young fellow and seemed inclined to converse. He was dressed exactly like an American and talked English readily, though with a marked accent. “Like America?” asked Willie. “Fine.” “Where’s your home? Syria?” “No. Armenia.” “Going to stay in America?” “Sure. America good place.” “Going to be a merchant?” “Sure.” “Sell laces and nuts and shawls?” and Willie swept his hand around at the stock about him. The young man nodded. “Where do these things come from? Armenia?” asked Willie, pointing to the laces. A subtle change came over the young merchant’s face. “All American,” said the clerk. “But our American women cannot make such beautiful things,” said Willie. “Armenians make them,” said the lad, with obvious pride. “Armenians here. All made in America.” Willie said good-bye and went out. He felt absolutely certain the fellow had been lying to him. Otherwise, why came that crafty look into his face? “Mr. Habib Mahaleb,” muttered Willie, “I think I’ve got something on you, all right. I’m going to look into your import records and see how many pistachio-nuts and other goods you are importing. I believe I’ve got something to go on, now.” At his first opportunity to talk to Mr. King, on the following day, Willie set forth his suspicions concerning Habib Mahaleb, with his reasons for those suspicions. “I wouldn’t be a bit surprised if you are correct in your guess,” said Mr. King. “Are you going any further with your investigations? Or do you want our special investigators to take up the case now?” There was a smile on his face, but it was a pleasant smile. “I’d like permission to look over some import records,” said Willie, “and find out what that fellow is shipping in.” “We’ll look the records over all right enough,” said Mr. King, “but it will be best to have the work done by one of the clerks who is familiar with those records.” When Mr. King saw that Willie looked disappointed, he went on, “You needn’t feel bad about it. You’ll get the credit if anything is turned up. But it is better to have them do the work because they can do it so much faster and also because I cannot spare you from that gate.” “Very well, sir,” said Willie, but he was plainly disappointed.