"I really thought it was father's old overcoat," the boy was saying, "and I'm not quite certain now that it wasn't; however, I lost sight of the fellow in the crowd."
"What is that, Claude? I didn't hear," Freddy said with sudden anxiety.
"I thought I saw a man wearing father's old overcoat yesterday," Claude explained. "There was a case being tried at the police-court as I was passing, and amongst the crowd outside was a young man with an overcoat exactly like—"
"A young man?" Freddy interrupted. "Oh, you must have been mistaken!"
The others looked at him quickly, for he had spoken with great decision. He grew very red, and became covered with confusion as he noticed their astonished glances.
"I mean it couldn't have been uncle's coat," he continued stammeringly; "that is—it's not very likely—"
"I don't know that it's altogether unlikely," Edwin said. "I should not be surprised if the coat turns up some day, and then we shall find out who stole it."
The conversation drifted into another channel after that; but later, when Freddy had gone to his own room for the night, there was a knock at the door, and Edwin entered.
"What do you want?" Freddy asked, yawning as though he was very sleepy, his eyes resting suspiciously on his cousin's face, which looked decidedly perturbed.
"I want to ask you something," was the reply in a low tone. "Freddy, do you know anything about father's old coat? I—I have often thought—from your manner—that you do; and I—I remember that you were at home alone that Saturday afternoon. Oh, Freddy, forgive me if I'm wrong!"