"Sorry to get you up, Mrs. Pitman," said Mr. Graves, "but this man
says he has bought beer here to-day. That won't do, Mrs. Pitman."
"Beer! I haven't such a thing in the house. Come in and look," I
snapped. And the two of them went back to the kitchen.
"Now," said Mr. Graves, when I had shut the door, "where's the
dog's-meat man?"
"Up-stairs."
"Bring him quietly."
I called Mr. Holcombe, and he came eagerly, note-book and all. "Ah!"
he said, when he saw Tim. "So you've turned up!"
"Yes, sir."
"It seems, Mr. Dog's--Mr. Holcombe," said Mr. Graves, "that you are
right, partly, anyhow. Tim here _did_ help a man with a boat that
night--"
"Threw him a rope, sir," Tim broke in. "He'd got out in the current,
and what with the ice, and his not knowing much about a boat, he'd
have kept on to New Orleans if I hadn't caught him--or Kingdom Come."
"Exactly. And what time did you say this was?"
"Between three and four last Sunday night--or Monday morning. He said
he couldn't sleep and went out in a boat, meaning to keep in close to
shore.
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