As the valet held out his bowler, they could see under the light the large gold letters BITTON on the inside of the white lining in the crown. `Aha!' said the Ghost. `Pinching Sir William's hats, eh?'
'No, sir!' Marks cried. `Sir William gave me that hat. I wear the same size as he does. And he gave me that because he bought two new hats only, recently, and if you'll only let me prove it, sir…!’
'I'll give you your chance,' said the Ghost, ominously. He thrust his hand across the table. It held something round and flat and black; there was a click, and it leaped full grown into an opera-hat., `Put this hat on, Marks!’
By this time Rampole was so bewildered that he almost expected to see Dr Fell take from the hat a brace of rabbits. Marks stared. -
`This is Sir William's hat!' shouted the Ghost, `Put it on. If it fits you, I'll believe what you say.'
He began to stab with the hat in the direction of Marks's forehead. The valet was compelled to put it on. It was too large; not so, large as it had been on, the body of Driscoll, but still too large.
'So-ho!' rumbled the Ghost, standing up behind the table. Absently he had been fumbling in his pockets; the Ghost was excited, and making gestures with anything he could lay hold of. Dr Fell lifted his hand and shook it in the air. 'Confess, Marks!' he thundered. 'Miserable wretch, your guilt has found you out!'
He crashed his hand down on the table. To Marks's stupefaction, and Dr Fell's own irritation at the anti-climax, a large rubber mouse with white whiskers popped out of his hand and ambled slowly across the table towards Hadley. Dr Fell snatched it up hastily and put it into his pocket.
'Hem!' observed the Ghost. Then he paused, and added something which really brought Hadley out of his chair. `Marks,' said Dr Fell, `you stole Sir William's manuscript:
For a moment it looked as though the other were going to faint.