“You had a chauffeur with you. One of our men is holding him outside. You don’t look like the kind of a girl that goes to a Five and Ten to shop. It’ll be better for you to tell the truth. Come clean now. Who did you get this from?”

To all these questions, the girl either answered, “No,” or shook her head, refusing to say anything.

“See here, officer,” said Mr. Thomas, the manager, “your line of questions is leading up to some very serious conclusions, which may compromise a concern doing a business of millions.”

“We can’t help that,” snapped the man in the derby. “We got this girl with the goods and we’re goin’ to find out how she got the dope, where she got it, and who she got it from. All we can prove right now is that she’s guilty of havin’ morphine on her. If we find she got it from one of the clerks in your store, you go to the station house with us along with whoever sold her the stuff.”

“You’ll see that the store is not implicated,” said Thomas, “when the salesgirl from counter 19 comes in. We only employ girls who are well-recommended.”

“That don’t mean a thing. Anybody can fake references,” said the detective in the baggy brown suit. Then the door to the office opened and Babe Gordon was ushered in.

Outside in the store, things were going on the same as ever. In fact, the majority of the sales force and customers were unaware that anything unusual had occurred. A few had seen a girl faint and be carried into the rear of the store, where for all they knew she had been revived and permitted to go home. A number of detectives who were detailed to search the store were working around unobtrusively; they might have been employees of the Baldwin organization checking up on store activities.

The officer who had escorted Babe to the manager’s office now reported to the detective in the derby, who was evidently in command.

“We’re still lookin’ around, Chief, but we ain’t turned up anythin’ yet.”

The firm’s lawyer ran his eye over Babe and decided he had better question this girl before the detectives tried any rough stuff.

Mr. Thomas introduced Babe to those in the room with the remark, “This is Miss Gordon, in charge of counter 19. She’s one of the best salesgirls we’ve got.”

“Miss Gordon,” O’Brien said, “I want to ask you a few questions. There’s no need of your being frightened unless you really have cause to be. However, I believe you haven’t. Just tell us the truth. That’s all we ask.”

The truth! All Babe knew was that she’d have to get out of the jam. The hell with anything else!