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THE WRONG COAT By HAROLD MacGRATH Aufot orr "The Man on the Box," '"The Goose Girl," Etc. (Copyright, b! theBubb.;-Murrill ;ompany) S1F it hadn't rained at Wra terloo Napoleon hight not l1avl sunk to this obscure S mitn o, :L cigar label; if a ^'. 's wife (whose name, = ' t'his particular moment, I fail to recollect) hadn't Iooked around, nmany s tihe rumorist 'ua .:"ould be shy aundry halt (doilar.; if !l ysscsc hadn't sut ('alypso, icnel olie's knitting would have heen acuoal i I::h!tld in a reasonably small coin l:as; ef tihe; tIus, it, on the 1!olrnlintg of Al Ih tenth, a bli:zard hadn't roilped in irom the Atlantic, there woultin't flve been any wrong coat. The day before had been treacherously warm and sp ringlike, and I had gone about my affairs without any coat. It is al ways the seemingly infinitesinmal things that count heaviest in the final reckoning. I hadn't gone two blocks from Mou quin's that night, when 1 noted the fact that I was wearing a coat that did not belong to me. With a growl I turned around and went back. I sim ply wasted my time; my coat was no where to be found. I stormed about, sending the waiters jumping all over the restaurant, but to no avail. Final ly I calmed down and admitted that it was all my own fault. I should have examined the coat when I shouldered into it. So I lett word at the cashier's desk and sought the street again. IDoubt!ess you have lost a coat or hat, in your time, if you who read happen to be a man. It is curious, but, no matter how much you are bet tered in the exchange, you raise a howl-you make the echoes ache with your lamentations. There is nothing on earth you want save your own coat and hat. To be sure, if, in the pockets of the wrong coat, there happen to be several thousand dollars, your howl is modified and innocuous, and you go at once to look for the other fellow perhaps. But, as in this instance there were only thirty-five cents, a canceled railroad ticket, and a scatter ing of cloves and tabloids for the breath, my cries were heard afar. Hang all absent-minded duffers, my self included, whose wits go wool gathering at bad times! The coat was just like mine, a light gray winter pad dock, lined with heavy satin. The only difference lay in the sleeves: these had small-change pockets, whereas mine had none. It was even exchange and no robbery, but I was none the less angry. The truth is, it was just after the first of the month and there were four or five unpaid bills in the inside pocket of my coat. (One was the bill for the coat!) So I climbed the stairs to the elevated station in no amiable frame of mind. Well, well; it really did not matter if the gentle man who had appropriated my coat learned that I owed my tailor. To owe one's tailor as long as the law per mits is quite customary-not only cus tomary, but also proper and commend able. The other bills were for cigars, gloves and hats; that is to say, of no great importance. I plumped into a vacant seat and glowered at the street below. It had stopped snowing and the wind had gone down. For once in my life I took no interest in the advertising signs. I wanted my coat, and for all I knew the man who had it might stumble under an automobile and ruin the garment; and, even if he didn't ruin it, it would smell tolerably strong of gasoline. I conjured up all manner of catastrophes regarding the ultimate end of my coat. The other fellow might be burned up in it; he might fall down a greasy ele vator shaft in it; he might even be lugged to jail in it, which was not at all unlikely, the cloves and tabloids speaking not very well for his habits. Was there ever such luck? Having no newspaper with which to pass away the time, I fell once more to r-ummaging the wrong coat. As I searched the pockets my sense of guilt was in nowise agitated. Doubtless the owner was at that moment going through the pockets of my coat. Thus, honors were even. But I found noth ing by which to identify my man. dne's identity cannot be established by means of thirty-five cents,-a worth less ticket, and a few cloves. A. Conan Doyle might accomplish such a feat, but I couldn't. . . . Hello! What was this? From the handker chief pocket I drew forth an envelope; but, as I glanced at it, my hopes slumped1 The address side was miss ing; onfy the sealing-laps remained. I was about to toss it contemptuously into the aisle, when I discovered that it was covered with pencil scribblings. . . Merciful heavens! I held the thing under my very nose and read, with horrified eyes: "Girl must die between twelve and one o'clock. "Chloroform, "Bow-window at side' unlatched, enter there. "Safe in library. Secure will. Leave by front door. "Servants' night out.--Girl alone." Mystery! I sat up straight and breathed quickly. I saw it all very plainly. Fate had 'thrust this coat upon me; Fate had given me a mis sion; I might be the means of saving the girl's life. .I was an amateur de tective, after a fashion, and more than once, in the old newspaper days, I had succeeded where the police had failed. In a far corner of the envelope was a house address. Without doubt It was the very house in which this mur der was to he c(ommitted. I glanced at my watch. It was eleven o'clock. There wnas plenty o1 time. . . . Or, Iid the crime already boeen verpe tratdl? I shuddered. It was felt Icr Iwe to find out. "Servant:;' night cit. I thought. This miight o1 I1m liht not he servantn' night. out. In any evi tI I sho blI have the hajl inii(ss of cl'11 foundiag a grnat rascal. l'irou the :4 dress I l(arnid that tho houle was to 'ated In a )irti eularly aitrin(rat na part of thl- West Side. I ~t why -hould he kill the girl? hia, I had it. There was a will. No (o(1ult she stood be tween! With the girl (!cad, the prop erty would( fall to hinm. It soundedtl like a play at the Fourteenth Street theater: but, in real life, the inelo drama is closest to our every-day al fairs. I at once determined not to notity the police; they would only bungle the Imiatter with the red tape of delay. I could call them in when the work was over. And to think that this ruffian's taste in overcoats was one and identical with mine! I had half a notion to tear oil the coat, only it would have at tracted attention-and, besides, it was cold. Some men would have shrugged their shoulders and permitted the thing to go on. In a great city the good Samaritan is usually looked upon as a Inmeddler; and, besides, every one has trouble enough of his; own. The girl was nothing to me; even her name was unknown. I hoped, how ever, that she was beautiful and young. My duty lay clear enough. It was possible to save a human being, and that was all there was to the mat ter. Any right-minded man would have done exactly as I did, though hardly with the same result. (This is not to say that I'm not right-minded, however!) If I should save the girl from her persecutor, I should always have something to fall back on it by any chance I myself left the straight and narrow way. To save a life is to do penance for many sins. Putting aside all flippant moralizing, it was an adventure such as invaria bly appeals to me, and it is a habit of mine to pursue things to the end. It is a fine and noble pursuit, that of research. But sometimes, as in cases like this adventure of mine, persons lacking my sense of the romantic, are called busybodies. I do not recollect what street it was in the eighties that the guard bawled out, but it was near enough for my pill'pose. I hurried out of the car and down the steps of the ele vated. Everybody gets In the way of a man in a hurry; so, for a block or more, the time was spent in making apologies to gruff-tempered persons. They would get in my way, and they would demand what I meant by not looking where I was going. Finally I succeeded in ridding myself of the crowds, and turned into a quiet and sober street. The sign on the lamp post told me that I had arrived on the scene. It was twenty minutes past eleven. Two things were possible: either the girl had been killed the night before or I had half an hour or so in which to render her the great est possible service. The house proved to be a fine struc ture, one of those few dwellings in the metropolis that boasts of anything like a court or yard. This yard was at the right of the building, and was more a roadway to the stables in the rear than anything else. Still, I may stretch it a point and call it a yard. I cast a hasty glance about. Not a soul was in sight. I tried one of the gates. It was unlatched! This cer tainly must be the night. I stole up the roadway cautiously. The fact that I left ispme fine tracks In the snow did not disturb me. I was not guilty of anything wrong. Yes, there was the bow-window through which the rascal was to enter. There would be a surprise in store for him. A sub dued light shone through the half closed blinds. Some one was awake; doubtless the girl herself, reading. Everything was working out nicely. I would even save her any real annoy ance. I tiptoed back to the gate, and was about to make my exit, when I paused, horrified, my heart in my mouth. Coming airily along the walk was a policeman. He was whistling popular Irish melodies and swinging his night stick. The deuce! Suppote he took it into his head to examine the gate! I hid behind the great stone gate-post, breathing with difficulty. If there was anything in the world I did not want to happen, it was to be arrested in this other fellow's coat! Besides the policeman wouldn't believe a word 1 said. He would hale me to the near est police station, and all my efforts to save the girl would colhe to noth ing. The policeman did start for the gate, but a cat fight across the street distracted him and he crossed over to break up the conflict. I was saved. After a reasonanle length of time, I stole forth. It was a close shave. I dare say that I have omitted the fact that I am young, still under thirty, and am a struggling dramatist, after having been a struggling poet, Into which craft I had drifted after having been a struggling humorist. The main fault of my want of success I lay to the fact that I do not look the various parts. As a dramatist, I lack the requisite Irritability of temper; as a poet, I have not that distinct disre gard for personal appearance usually considered characteristic; as a humor ist, I am totally deficient of the long, cadaverous and dyspeptic countenance and lusterless eye of the typical writer of funny fancies. W\vhen ulY uncle died and left me a conimortable income, Art received a staggering blow, from which it is doubttul she will ever recover. A spinster aunt in sists that I a!n more than ordinarily agreeable to the eve; but. of course, blood1 is partial to blood. 'IThat is enough for the pr'sent of what the 1amiable T'lhaclerY called "first per seal, singular, perpendicular." W\hen once 1lr(!' in the street, i boilly fip;ru;I'0ll('dl tl' sters, mounted slowlY, ami pu54h'1 the lutton. If a raid or a footau.tt l iould open the door, i SlhoM! iknow instantly that it was not serxantN' n ght offt'. It re maineid only for the girl herself to an This she did. I iremarltkedl, elsewhere, that I hoped slt( woould be young and beautiful. She was. I wasn't exactly expecting such a visioni of loveliness. 1ier hair was like golden cobwebs, her eyes like applhires, and her conmplexion had the shtadowy bloom of a young peach. I stared, standing first on one toot, then on the other. "W"hal is it?" she asked, rather im patiently. It was quite evident that she had been deeply absorbed in the book she heldl in her hand. I wondered how I should begin! "Well, sir?" "Are you the young lady of the house?" I finally sutunoned up the courage to ask. "Yes." The door moved perceptibly -toward me. "I have, then, something of vital im portance to tell you." "Call tomorrow morning," she re plied briefly. The door continued to move in my direction. I saw that I must act quickly, or turn the matter over to the police, which I was exceedingly loath to do. "It is a matter of life and death," I said determinedly. "Life and death? Whose?" she asked, with discouraging brevity. Then she cried suddenly: "Has any thing happened to my brother?" "Brother? t1ot that I know. It is you!" "What?" She inclined towatd me, and for a moment the door ceased to gravitate outward. "You possess a terrible enemy, known or unknown." "An enemy? - . I haven't the least idea, sir, what the meaning of this hoax can-" "Hoax!" I interrupted. "It isn't a -~ ~ Ii/~ ~ 3 t/7 f.- ~~~-~4~" /7E- ---- '7--~~ - - /7 '4-~s A '~irn ,-'/ '/ - = :k~urvocoorrrn l ~j /7, *,, i !kl-c_-- --L--~-I~= I' -, --~ hoax; it is frightfully serious, as you will soon learn, it you will only be so kind as to give me a few moments of your attention." There spread over her beautiful face various shades of amazement, indigna tion and fear. Hoax! It was,. Indeed, a very ungrateful world. Decidedly, this time, the girl meant to close the door in my face. Resolutely, I shoul dered past her into the hall! "How dare you?" she cried, her wonderful eyes blazing and wrath dyeing her cheeks. "If you do not in stantly go I shall call for help. How dare you?" "This is servants' night out, and your aunt is away," I said, intendlig to tell her all at once. But she suddenly drew back against the wall and gazed at ie as if for all the world I resembled the uprising of Jason's dragon teeth. "What do you want?" she asked, in a panting whisper. "There isn't a penny in the house!" Goodness! if the girl didn't take me for a burglar! "Do you think I'm a burglar?" 1 gasped. "But,"-piteously. "I am simply here to do you a serv ice; and it is a service." "There are no jewels save these rings. Take them and go." She stripped her fingers and held the rings toward me. I flushed hotly. "Will you do me the honor to listen to me?" I asked, as calmly as I could. "Put back those rings; otherwise I shall regret that I took it upon myself to befriend you. I am not a burglar." She complied, but the terror In her eyes subsided none, (I learned after ward that several robberies had re cently been committed In the neigh borhood.) "At a restaurant, tonight," I began, "I got another lan's coat by mistake. In a Ipocket of this coat I found en dence that a terrible crime was about to be perpetrated. I came here to aid you.", She stared at me wildly and fl bled her rings. "You have," I continued, 'a dc'adiv enemy, ai wretch Who Wishes to put you out of the way. You may not know who he is, but none the less he exists. You standit between h1111 iiral a u i1. It is iloney, the t;re.d of it, that brinugs Iiin like a wolt to your door. .\eor(iii to thy inrorniat ion. he is to enter here between thli hunte of twe!e anid (uie, cblor"tiuorni you, and pill yr thie sale. 110 knows Lite habits of this household well, lot- h is aware that on thiis Iighilt neithutr your aunt nor your sevanits would be in. Sh1e still eyed tie witli Inch ingi:ig teror. "It was only htii:nii on 111ly ,art, I went on, to make known to you what I had found." Suddenly an inexplicable change came over her. "Yes, yes; I :see, I understanrld! Thank you! Oh, thank you!" hyster ically. "('oine into the drawing roomn and sit down. I have been dreading this nioniment for months!" Dreading it for nionths? And yet she remained alone in this big house?' I was vastly puzzled; but I followed her into the tdrawing room and sat down, waiting for a further explana tion on her part. She was a rarely beautiful creature, and the idea that any rman couldl harbor thoughts against this exquisite life tilled my soul with horror. "The will is in the safe, but the safe is in the library. W'ait till I go and see if the papers are intact." She hurried from the room, leaving nie with a sense of utter bewilderment. There was something about her present ac tions that I could not understand. She was gone fully five minutes. When she returned she was very pale, but all her agitation was gone or suppressed. "The will is there; nothing, as yet, has been disturbed. Tell me all you know"-looking anxiously at the clock, the hands of which were now close upon midnight. I reviewed the whole affair. "Yes, I have a terrible enemy, who seeks my life at every turn"-her slen der fingers snarling and unsnarling. I nodded comprehensively. "You ought never to be alone," I said. "I realize that. This will . . . leaves me untold mining property. . . . To my horror I must confess that this man is a near relative." "Your brother?" I whispered. "Heavens,, no! A cousin; yes, that is it, a cousin. I live from day to day in constant misery." "Frightful!" "Is it not? And I am so young!" Then she proceeded to tell me what I believed to be the family history. It was marvelously complicated. "It seems incredible," I observed; "yet we read of like tales every day in the newspapers." 'And no words of mine can express my thanks to you, sir. You have put me on my guard. I had heard that my uncle-" "Uncle?" "Did I say uncle?"-with a catchy sort of laugh. "I meant cousin. I was going to say that I had heard he had left the country." But why did she watch me so close ly? Every move I made caused her to start. When I turned down the collar of the other fellow's coat, she shud dered; when I drew off my gloves, she paled; when I folded my arms, she sent a terrified glance toward the door. I could not make any sense out of her actions. "To prove the manner of his en trance, let me see if the bow-window is unlatched. But wait!" I cried, pro ducing the frayed envelope. "Listen to this and see how carefully he planned it, the rascal!" I then read to her the scribbling, putting, careful emphasis on the bow-window and serv ants' night out. -"Now, if you do not }Hind, I'll try the window." Sure enough, it was unlatched! "You see?" I cried triumphantly. The wild look returned to the girl's eyes.. "Let-let me see that paper!"-1 holding one bead to her throat while the other she stretched out toward me. I gave the paper to her. Slit glanced at it, dropped it, andt burst into tears. SX;1od heavens"' I cried. Thin she laughed shrilly and hys "\Vhat i t fle nati cr?' '''"You positively came ithere, then, to do 1me a real st'rvice; and all thle while I Ihtive Lteen thinking that you were ".1 luiia~ t' I wtas aio;llte'Pu da.;. lollnde ti. "Ye:: and when I left, the rom it va'; silli:ly to call ilia' polio r. Tli I:laIne('r of your v ieni' rate--!-the I;ri ili' thuig you told tiue,-ail, there 1i "=ýne O1rradlill muislnal . , hart 1:t an -lenemy in the whole wol. Tiwr( iýs Iit) t'1i ~l the MU(. (y brti er ai',1 O I txc ti. What 1 have been telling you wtas Ii t he effort to ke('p oUll ill goo'! humo or till the police arrived. I liut whit tall it all mean' It is :.imply In credible." I picked ilup the envelope and stared at it sttupidly. 'The address is the sanme." I said, trying to find sonime thing to stand on. "I know it; that's what makes it so uncnnyil. I cannot possibly under stand. Perhaps the police can untangle it.", T'he police! I saw that I should have to give a good account of myself whien the police arrived. Where dlid I stand, anyhow? What did it mean? No man would write such a thing for the fun of it. "I'm sorry." said I awkwardly. "I thought I was doing right. Indeed, I really thought so." "And I thank you. You will admit that some of my suspicions were ex cusable. To whom am I indebted?" Sgraciously. In this mood she was charming. I told her my name. She loked puzzled, and finally shook her head. "It has a familiar sound, but I can not place it." "There goes the bell!" I exclaimed. "It's the police-come for the luna tic!" The girl flew to the door. I could easily read her mind. If I was a bur glar or a lunatic, the police meant pro. tection; in case my errand was in good faith, there would still be the poi i lice to greet the mysterious stran ger. Presently she returned, followed by a private detective and two police 1 men. "Is this the fellow?" asked the for mer, scowling at me. The girl explained, rather incoher ently, her mistake. Everybody sat down. It was quite a social gathering, or would have been but for the scru tiny of the police, which I bore none too well. From all sides questions came popping at me, and it was only by the use of the telephone connect ing my bachelor quarters that I suc ceeded in establishing my identity. The frayed envelope was vastly inter esting to the police. They read it for ward and backtwrard, upside down, and even held it close to the fire to see if any sympathetic ink had been used in writing it. "I guess Mr. Carewe's a well-mean in' chap, miss," volunteered the detec tive. "But this matter will need close attention. It looks like a tough prop osition." He began to ply her with questions, but to no avail. During the examination I vaguely wondered what the other fellow was doing with my coat. The clock on the mantel struck half after midnight. "There's only one thing to be done," said the detective; "and that's to turn out the lights and wait for the blood thirsty gent." For three-quarters of an hour we five sat in the semi-darkness, our ears strained to catch the faintest foreign sound. Once I sneezed suddenly, and one of the policemen nearly fell out of his chair. It may seem funny to you who read, but it was mighty sert ous to the girl and myself. The sus t pense was nerve-racking. We scarce 7 ly dared breathe naturally. The oc casional slumping of the coal in the grate was pregnant with terrors. And our faces, seen but dimly, were drawn I and tense with the silent watching. t Every eye was directed toward the baleful window, through which, at any moment, we expected to see a man i crawl. "Sh!" The detective raised a warn m ing hand. t On the stillness of the night there t came a clicking sound, like that of a key being inserted in a lock. Pres ently we heard the hall door open and y close. We waited in agony, or at s least I did. Possibly a minute passed, I and then we saw the figure of a man loom in the doorway. We saw his arm ,-extend toward the electric-light but o ton, and instantly the room became r brilliant with light. 1. The young man blinked at us and e we blinked at him. e "If you move a step," said the de e tective threateningly, "I'll plug you t full o' lead." "What the d-?" began the new I. comer, gazing from face to face. · "Stop!" cried the girl, springing to . his side; "it is my brother!" n Her brother! I looked at the man e with indescribable horror. He had on d my coat! And, more than this, he 11 was a man on whose honor I would r. formerly have staked my life-Ar t thur Kellerd, one of my classmates at college. And this exquisite girl was his sister, the girl I had always been wanting to meet! a "Your brother!" cried the detective, I taken aback. - "Yes, her brother," said Kellerd o amiably. "Now, what's all this pother about, anyhow?" Here he chanced to get a good square look at me. 'l lang me. if it isn't Dicky ('arewe! -and wearing my coat ' lie came torward and grasped' my limp) hand and pultll. ed it. "If you only knew how I've been c(ursilng y:: ' he add ('(!, lau hing. 'ihelin everybody lh:i n to talk at (lnce, and nobody would havYe !e:. ne anythtintg 1ha( noit tae' 'lt't( 't ye e'05 i rtely inll one ued. 1e thr'ust the ay ('d eiv:lot( ' d:(lr hullell d S 11".ose "I):) y(1' t)('. enIy; ~:; g ablotut ttits7' e tlled;ii s'l'lru ini.:ed it for a mlan ont, a ed1 then I tlt 1') t t1 iugh: I g t say '('tme, Itipt', Natni'v: It's all a curl t! till 11 all readily uit'estatld why I laDugled, w heu I tel in ''A joke ch?'' said the tdetective. 'lerht'ps you can e p.ln i iit, u)t' per 1111115 you calt'1."-trucule:t: ly. *'Eas-ily. You have doubt less heard tof Norman I ougla ," he ogan. The po!ate shol: their heads, butr the giry'l nd I looked interested. "Douglas is the e fellow who's writ ing all those deuter letctive yarns hiP rhsk s you can explain it, and per for lhe magazines," said h1. "Well," said KIll'rd, "Ivo been I ryllug to keep it tiark, but here's where I must confess. I'm hoaglas, nd that sill) of loper represents the elimai to a chapter in a newv story. Come into the library, gentlehon." "Well. I'm jiggerod!" breathed the detective heavily. I looked around for a hole to crawl into, but there wasn't any. "Your sister notileod us that a luna tic was at large and had forcibly en tered the house," said the detective, perfectly willing to cast all the odium on my shoulders. (I could have throt tied him with joy in my heart!) "A lunatic?" roared Kellerd. For a moment I thought he was going to die of suffocation, and if he had I should not have been sorry at that moment. To have made an ass of myself before the prettiest girl I had ever laid eyes on! "I'm very sorry," said the girl. "Never you mind," I replied. "Some day I'll tell you all about the tabloids for the breath I found in Arthur's coat." A short time after, the policemen solemnly filed out into the hall and minto the street; and, not being in a strictly amiable frame of mind, I "started to follorw. "Oh. hang it, now, Dicky!" cr"ie Kellerd; "a man who used to be a professional joke-writer ought not to harbor any ill feelings. Have a cigar?' I shook my head. I had an idea that I wanted to utilize. "But I want you to meet gy sister." "I am delighted,"-bowing rather stiffly. "But you're not going off with my coat again!" I flushed, and shook the erstwhile evil garment from my shoulders. "Not just a friendly cigar?" plead ed Kellerd. "Nary a one." The girl approached shyly and touched my arm. (This was my idea.) "Not even a cup of chocolate,-lf I make it?" "Oh," said I, "that's altogether a different matter." Subsequent events proved that it was. Sad Plight of Uncle Wagner Weems. "Uncle Wagner Weems is sadly af flicted," remarked John Henry Jurni gan. "He is a chronic and consistent advanced thinker, with all the love ppssessed by most radical persons for unbridled conversation, but just now he is blessed with the asthma, and can hardly breathe, let alone argue and declaim. And when be thinks of the outrages that are being perpetrat ed by the plutocrats, and the fact that the money power is holding the noses of the vox popull hard down on the grindstune of financial degrada. tion until it's a livin' wonder that there is a nose more than three-six teenths of an inch long left in circa lation among the tillers toilers, and the urgent need for somebody to say something about it, and finds himself unable to do more than gasp like an expiring catfish, the expression on his countenance is well worth noticing." -Kansas City Star. Fitted for Florld. Will Trwin, the author, was holding forth upon the superiority of Cali fornia over Florida as a winter re * sort. I "Florida," he said, "is too relaxing. This is due to the fetid air of the - swamps. "There's a story about a young Iman who was being examined for ad mission to the Florida bar. The ex I amination ran thus: 1 "'Young man, are you malaria a proof?' I "'Yes, sir.' "'Can you ride?' t "'Ycs, sir.' 1 "Do you own a horse?' 1 "'Yes, sir.' "'Is he a good swamp swimmer?' "'Yes, sir.' "'Then, young man, I welcome you I to the practice of law in this dia r trict' "