," I said, with the plate of
doughnuts just beyond his reach.

"Yes'm."

"She didn't buy it?"

"She didn't buy it. Say, Mrs. Pitman, gimme that doughnut."

"Oh, so the coat washed in!"

"No'm. Pap found it, down by the Point, on a cake of ice. He thought
it was a dog, and rowed out for it."

Well, I hadn't wanted the coat, as far as that goes; I'd managed
well enough without furs for twenty years or more. But it was a
satisfaction to know that it had not floated into Mrs. Maguire's
kitchen and spread itself at her feet, as one may say. However, that
was not the question, after all. The real issue was that if it was
Jennie Brice's coat, and was found across the river on a cake of ice,
then one of two things was certain: either Jennie Brice's body wrapped
in the coat had been thrown into the water, out in the current, or she
herself, hoping to incriminate her husband, had flung her coat into
the river.

I told Mr. Holcombe, and he interviewed Joe Maguire that afternoon.
The upshot of it was that Tommy had been correctly informed. Joe had
witnesses who had lined up to see him rescue a dog, and had beheld his
return in triumph with a wet and soggy fur coat. At three o'clock
Mrs. Maguire, instructed by Mr. Graves, brought the coat to me for
identification, turning it about for my inspection, but refusing to
take her hands off it.

"If her husband says to me that he wants it back, well and good," she
said, "but I don't give it up to nobody but him. Some folks I know of
would be glad enough to have it."

I was certain it was Jennie Brice's coat, but the maker's name had
been ripped out. With Molly holding one arm and I the other, we took
it to Mr. Ladley's door and knocked. He opened it, grumbling.

"I have asked you not to interrupt me," he said, with his pen in his
hand. His eyes fell on the coat. "What's that?" he asked, changing
color.

"I think it's Mrs. Ladley's fur coat," I said.

He stood there looking at it and thinking. Then: "It can't be hers,"
he said. "She wore hers when she went away."

"Perhaps she dropped it in the water."

He looked at me and smiled. "And why would she do that?" he asked
mockingly. "Was it out of fashion?"

"That's Mrs. Ladley's coat," I persisted, but Molly Maguire jerked it
from me and started away. He stood there looking at me and smiling in
his nasty way.

"This excitement is telling on you, Mrs. Pitman," he said coolly.
"You're too emotional for detective work." The