Cleena started back over the way they had come, and Mr. Kaye was following her, when he stumbled against something soft, and fell headlong in the mud; but he was up again in an instant, no worse for the accident save by the soil upon his clothing. He had grasped the thing over which he had tripped, and held it up to the candle-light.
"Hello! Seems to me I've seen this garment, or felt it, before. That peculiarity of a cloth coat with a leather collar is noticeable. Whose is it, Cleena?"
"Fetch it," she commanded tersely, and he obeyed her. Once in the better lighted kitchen she extinguished the candle, carefully closed all the doors, and seated herself near her visitor. She had taken the coat from him, and laid it upon her own knees. Her manner was still full of that mystery which consorted so oddly with her honest, open face.
"I thought so. I thought so, so I did."
"Very likely."
"Cease yer haverin', lad. There's matter here."
"Considerable. Upon my clothes, too. The matter seems to be of the same sort—rather brown and sticky, what the farmers call 'loom.'"
"Know you whose coat this be?"
"Never a know I know," he mimicked, enjoying his bit of nonsense with this old friend of his youth.