Page:The Black Cat November 1916.djvu/7

Rh of this clean, courtly old gentleman, smiled and corrected him.

"Those are very fine gems, sir," she continued pleasantly, placing the desired piece of jewelry in its immaculate velvet-lined case on the counter pad for Derrington's inspection. "Every stone is guaranteed perfect; they would cost you at least a half more than our price at any specialty store. Being a departmental establishment, we sell jewelry at department store profits, exactly as we do dry goods and groceries." Miss Anita, having attended the Belford School of Salesmanship very assiduously, knew just what to say.

Albeit John Thomas Derrington had twice before been in to examine these emeralds, he had but perfunctorily glanced at the salesperson showing them. He seldom gathered a more comprehensive idea of any salesperson's individual appearance than of the laces of his servants. Salespeople and servants were a mere matter of course with Derrington, man of mighty millions. Should one chance to have eyes like an owl, or a nose like an elephant, he might have been startled into attention; otherwise, they faded into the general landscape. Now, however, he was suddenly aware of something pleasing in the sweet voice expatiating on the attractions of the necklace.

"Bless my soul!" exclaimed the slightly startled man, who was feeling the extreme heat himself. "How cool and comfortable you seem this morning, young lady."

John Thomas had no definite idea why it was so, yet as he sensed Miss Anita Maloney's fresh beauty, it started him thinking of the Skagpole Venus. Perhaps it was because, in his eyes, both represented perfection.

"I have a contented mind," answered Miss Anita off-handedly. "The heat never troubles me."

"It appears not," added John Thomas. "But I might hazard a guess regarding something that does trouble you."

Miss Anita, knowing perfectly well that this dry, jolly old gentleman was not attempting a flirtation, looked perfunctory interest.

"Yes?" she inquired.

"I'll wager you are troubled with more sweethearts than a body could shake a stick at," answered John T. with a sage nod. "Or else the present day lads are nothing like as appreciative as they were in my time."

"You'd lose," answered Anita. "I haven't a sweetheart to my name."

"Umm-m, well, maybe they have changed," hummed John Thomas.

As his eyes were travelling again toward the necklace, he caught sight of a stout person stepping his way. He began to chuckle, holding up four outspread fingers and a thumb so that the man approaching might see them. This latter gentleman was David Belford, who made it a settled habit to walk once through each aisle of his vast department store daily.

Belford was short, pursy, fussy and florid. A bristling white moustache half hid his mouth and his head was bare of hair, save for a fast disappearing white ring below his ears. He caught sight of Derrington's upheld hand and shook his head in denial, knowing that John Thomas's gesture signified an added bid of