“Yes, I have,” said the porter. “And what’s more, I’m damned, sir—begging your pardon, sir, if I could make it out at all. Gentlemen don’t usually walk about in opera hats at lunch time, or go away leaving their hats behind. But this lot was left at lunch-time. I know that, sir, because it weren’t here in the morning, and I noticed it after lunch.” “Perhaps it had my friend’s name in it.” “No, sir, that it hadn’t. I searched that coat, and not a name nor a scrap of paper was there on it. A pair of gloves and a few coppers was all it had in it.” “Wasn’t there a name in the hat either?” “No, there wasn’t, or we would probably have found the owner by now.” “Well,” said Ellery. “I’m going to take you into my confidence. I believe that coat and hat did belong to my friend, and I want you to let me have a look at them. The matter is more important than it sounds, for if it is the coat I think it may be the clue to the discovery of a murderer.” “Lord, sir, you don’t say so.” The attendant’s face brightened, and a new sense of importance came into his manner. “Lord, a real murderer.” He rubbed his hands. Then he said, remembering that he had no idea who Ellery might be. “In that case, sir, oughtn’t we to send for the police?” “All in good time,” said Ellery; “but before we do that you must let me see the coat and hat and find out if I am right. It wouldn’t do to bring the police here on a wild goose chase. I don’t want to take them away; but you must keep them safe and not give them up to any one until the police come.” The porter thereupon brought out the coat and hat. The coat was undoubtedly George Brooklyn’s, or own fellow to his, and to make the proof complete there was a button missing, and the remaining buttons were the same as that which Joan had found in the handbag in Carter Woodman’s office. Ellery turned to examine the hat. There was no name in it, but in the crown there was evidence no less valuable. At some time the adhesive gold initials which hatters use had been fastened inside. These had been removed, or fallen out; but their removal had left the spaces which they had covered cleaner than the rest of the white silk lining. The initials “G.B.” stood out, not as plainly as if the gold letters had remained, but quite unmistakably when the lining was carefully examined. There could be no doubt that Joan’s sagacity had resulted in bringing to light George Brooklyn’s hat and coat, or that they had been left in a place which Woodman had visited on the day following the murder. Their theory that Woodman had masqueraded as George Brooklyn was confirmed, and the new evidence served to connect him, more closely than any previous discovery, with the murders at Liskeard House.