He pushed open the shop door and entered, and then immediately the girl, gathering her needlework together, rose hurriedly and disappeared through an inner door. The locksmith lifted the child down off the counter. “Run away, nipper,” he said. “Daddy's busy now. Go to Mum.”
Larose took in the locksmith with one glance. He looked a merry-hearted fellow of a lively disposition, and appeared to be about 35 years of age.
“Mr. Flick?” asked Larose, and when the man replied, “Yes, sir,” he lowered his voice, and glancing in the direction of the inner door, which was ajar, and added sternly, “Well, I want to speak to you.”
The man's jaw dropped ever so little at the sternness of the tones, but taking the hint he immediately stepped over and shut the door. Then he returned to the counter, eyein
