There was a moment of complete stillness, and Erica rushed on:
"I don't want to do anything about it. Prosecuting, or anything like that, I mean. But I do want that coat awfully bad. I'll buy it back from you if you still have it. Or if you've pawned it —»
"You're a nice one!" the man burst out. "Coming here to have a job of work done and then accusing a man of battle and blue murder. You be out of here before I lose my temper good and proper and crack you one on the side of the jaw. Impudent little — with your loose tongue. I've a good mind to twist it out of, your bloody head, and what's s more I —»
The woman pushed him aside and stood over Erica, tall and intimidating.
"What makes you think my man took a coat?"
"The coat he had when Jake, the lorry driver, gave him a lift a week last Tuesday was taken from a car at Dymchurch. We know that." She hoped the «we» sounded well. And she hoped she didn't sound as doubtful as she felt. They were both very innocent and indignant-looking. "But it isn't a matter of making a case. We only want the coat back. I'll give you a pound for it," she added, as they were about to break in on her again.
She saw their eyes change. And in spite of her predicament a great relief flooded her. The man was the man. They knew what coat she was talking about.
"And if you've pawned it, I'll give you ten shillings to tell me where."
"What do you get out of this?" the woman said. "What do you want with a man's coat?"
"I didn't say anything about it being a man's." Triumph ran through her like an electric shock.