tell the truth?"

"Absolutely."

"Then that was the coat she wore from the store?"

"No--but she thinks it was. She doesn't know the difference."

For a long time John McNabb spoke no word but sat staring at his desk,
pecking at the blotter with his pencil. He prided himself upon his
ability to pick men. He knew men, and in no small measure was this
knowledge responsible for his success in dealing with men. He had been
certain that Jean and Hedin would eventually marry, and secretly he
longed for the day. He had watched Hedin for years and now, despite
the improbability of the story, he believed it implicitly. And it was
with a heavy heart that he had watched the studied coldness of each
toward the other. McNabb was a man of snap decisions. He would teach
these young fools a lesson, and at the same time find out which way the
wind blew. With a clenching of his fists, he whirled abruptly upon
Hedin.

"What did ye do with the coat?" he roared. "It'll go easier with ye if
ye tell me!"

"What do you mean?" cried Hedin, white to the lips, meeting McNabb's
gaze with a look of mingled surprise, pain, and anger.

"I mean just what I say. Ye've got the coat--where is it?"

Hedin felt suddenly weak and sick. He had expected McNabb's anger at