THE WISDOM OF FATHER BROWN
"Do you seriously mean," said the specialist with a smile, "that there is no such person?"
The priest made a sign of assent. "It does seem a pity," he said.
Orion Hood broke into a contemptuous laugh. "Well," he said, "before we go on to the hundred and one other evidences, let us take the first proof we found; the first fact we fell over when we fell into this room. If there is no Mr. Glass, whose hat is this?"
"It is Mr. Todhunter's," replied Brown.
"But it doesn't fit him," cried Hood impatiently. "He couldn't possibly wear it!"
Father Brown shook his head with ineffable mildness. "I never said he could wear it," he answered. "I said it was his hat. Or, if you insist on a shade of difference, a hat that is his."
"And where is the shade of difference?" asked the criminologist with a slight sneer.
"My good sir," cried the mild little man, with his first movement akin to impatience, "if you will walk down the street to the nearest hatter's shop, you will see that there is, in common speech, a difference between a man's hat and the hats that are his."
"But a hatter," protested Hood, "can get money out of his stock of new hats. What could Todhunter get out of this one old hat?"
"Rabbits," replied Father Brown promptly.
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