“Then can I see Mrs. Smith?”
But alas and alas! she was gone downtown with him. In my distress I was suddenly smitten by one of those ghastly hysterical inspirations, you know, when you want to do an insane thing just to astonish and petrify somebody; so I said, with a rather overdone pretense of playful ease and assurance:
“Ah, this is a very handsome overcoat on the hat rack--be so good as to lend it to me for a day or two!”
“With pleasure,” she said--and she had the coat on me before I knew what had happened. It had been my idea to astonish and petrify her, but I was the person astonished and petrified, myself. So astonished and so petrified, in fact, that I was out of the house and gone, without a thank-you or a question, before I came to my senses again. Then I drifted slowly along, reflecting--reflecting pleasantly. I said to myself, “She simply divined my character by my face--what a far clearer intuition she had than that policeman.” The thought sent a glow of self-satisfaction through me.
Then a hand was laid on my shoulder and I shrank together with a crash. It was the policeman. He scanned me austerely and said:
“Where did you get that overcoat?”
Although I had not been doing any harm, I had all the sense of being caught--caught in something disreputable. The officer’s accusing eye and unbelieving aspect heightened this effect. I told what had befallen me at the house in as straightforward a way as I could, but I was ashamed of the tale, and looked it, without doubt, for I knew and felt how improbable it must necessarily sound to anybody, particularly a policeman. Manifestly he did not believe me. He made me tell it all over again, then he questioned me:
“You don’t know the woman?”
“No, I don’t know her.”
“Haven’t the least idea who she is?”