"No, I haven't. What's all this about?"
"Did Oskar tell you what kind of a coat you were gettin'?"
"Yes, a baum marten. Why, isn't it a baum marten?"
McNabb nodded. "Yes, it's a baum marten. Run along now. I just wanted to see which coat ye'd got. Here, take it along with ye. The tailor can wait."
With a puzzled glance at the two men, Jean took the coat, and with a toss of the head left the office.
McNabb turned to Hedin. "What have ye got to say now? Did the girl 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.