"I want to look at gold wrist-watches," he said. And eyed the clerk for
a trace of patronage.

"Ladies?"

"Yes."

He finally found one that was a duplicate of Anna's, and examined it
carefully. Yes, it was the same, the maker's name on the dial, the space
for the monogram on the back, everything.

"How much is this one?"

"One hundred dollars."

He almost dropped it. A hundred dollars! Then he remembered Anna's
story.

"Have you any gold-filled ones that look like this?"

"We do not handle gold-filled cases."

He put it down, and turned to go. Then he stopped.

"Don't sell on the installment plan, either, I suppose?" The sneer in
his voice was clearer than his anxiety. In his mind, he already knew the
answer.

"Sorry. No."

He went out. So he had been right. That young skunk had paid a hundred
dollars for a watch for Anna. To Rudolph it meant but one thing.

That had been early in January. For some days he kept his own counsel,
thinking, planning, watching. He was jealous of Graham, but with a
calculating jealousy that set him wondering how to turn his knowledge to
his own advantage. And Anna's lack of liberty comforted him somewhat. He
couldn't meet her outside the mill, at least not without his knowing it.

He established a system of espionage over her that drove her almost to
madness.