"You know, your clothes are in a terrible state," the old lady said after the meal. "You ruined them when you had the accident!"
"That's all right. They're just my work-clothes," Coke answered.
"My husband was just about your size. A little heavier perhaps. All his clothes are upstairs. They're no good to him. He died two years ago." She pointed up to the room above them.
"Why don't you see if any of his clothes fit you. You can bring them back tomorrow."
"Nobody can be this lucky!" Coke thought to himself. He went upstairs and turned the light on. It was clear that the old lady was almost in another world. She trusted everybody. He found a heavy jacket, a woolen shirt and some trousers hanging in the room.
"What do you know about Coke?" Baxter asked Halls. They were in the car now.
"Very little, I'm afraid. In fact, I don't think I know anything about him at all. Wasn't he the fellow who was in that spy case about four years ago?"
"Yes, that's right. Coke always said it wasn't him ... that it was someone else."
"That's what they all say. But what's so special about him?"
"Coke was in Army Intelligence. He knew important secrets. We could never understand why he sold them. There wasn't a real motive. Some said he did it for money. We couldn't prove it, but if he was a spy, he still knows too much. We could never find out who he sold the secrets to. That's why we have to catch him before he makes contact with any of his old friends!"
Coke put the clothes on as quickly as he could. They were old and shabby, but at least they were warm. When he came downstairs, the old lady was still in front of the fire. She smiled when she looked at him.
"You know, you look just like my husband in those clothes ... when he was much younger, of course." Coke tried to be polite. He wanted to leave quickly.
"I can't thank you enough. It's very kind of you to do all this for me." The old lady did not seem to hear him.
"Just like my husband," she said again. Just then, there was a knock on the door.