To her amazement she found that it was
invariably the third book in each shelf that he removed and
examined--the third from the end. It did not appear to her that he was
examining the contents of the pages so much as searching them as if he
expected to find something there.
All at once, as she furtively watched from behind him, she heard him
give a little pleased grunt and she saw him picking out from between the
leaves of the book a fragment of paper, which he held concealed in his
hand. Watching closely, Jane saw him thrust this same hand into his
trousers pocket, and when he brought it out she was certain that the
hand was empty. What did this curious performance mean? What was the
little slip of paper he had found in the book? Why had he concealed it
in his pocket?
Still keeping her attention riveted on him, she picked up a book to mask
her occupation and pretended to be turning its pages. She was glad she
had done so, for a minute later old Hoff wheeled suddenly and looked
sharply about him. Apparently having his suspicions disarmed by seeing
only herself and the clerk there, he turned again to the bookshelves.
Jane this time saw him thrust his fingers into his waistcoat pocket and
withdraw therefrom,--she was almost certain of it,--a little slip of
paper.
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