again,
and as such accepted ice in quantities, a mustard plaster over his
stomach, and considerable nursing. By evening he was better, but
although he clearly intended to stay on, he said nothing about
changing his identity again, and I was glad enough. The very name of
Ladley was horrible to me.

The river went down almost entirely that day, although there was still
considerable water in the cellars. It takes time to get rid of that.
The lower floors showed nothing suspicious. The papers were ruined, of
course, the doors warped and sprung, and the floors coated with mud
and debris. Terry came in the afternoon, and together we hung the
dining-room rug out to dry in the sun.

As I was coming in, I looked over at the Maguire yard. Molly Maguire
was there, and all her children around her, gaping. Molly was hanging
out to dry a sodden fur coat, that had once been striped, brown and
gray.

I went over after breakfast and claimed the coat as belonging to Mrs.
Ladley. But she refused to give it up. There is a sort of unwritten
law concerning the salvage of flood articles, and I had to leave the
coat, as I had my kitchen chair. But it was Mrs. Ladley's, beyond a
doubt.

I shuddered when I thought how it had probably got into the water.
And yet it was curious, too, for if she had had it on, how did it get
loose to go floating around Molly Maguire's yard? And if she had not
worn it, how did it get in the water?

CHAPTER VI

The newspapers were full of the Ladley case, with its curious solution
and many surprises. It was considered unique in many ways. Mr. Pitman
had always read all the murder trials, and used to talk about the
_corpus delicti_ and writs of _habeas corpus_--_corpus_ being the
legal way, I believe, of spelling corpse. But I came out of the Ladley
trial--for it came to trial ultimately--with only one point of law
that I was sure of: that was, that it is mighty hard to prove a man a
murderer unless you can show what he killed.

And that was the weakness in the Ladley case. There was a body, but it
could not be identified.

The police held Mr. Ladley for a day or two, and then, nothing
appearing, they let him go. Mr. Holcombe, who was still occupying the
second floor front, almost wept with rage and despair when he read the
news in the papers. He was still working on the case, in his curious
way, wandering along the wharves at night, and writing letters all
over the country to learn about Philip Ladl