Mr. Grimshaw came soon after we had finished our luncheon. He hitched his horse at the post and came in. He never shook hands with anybody. In all my life I have met no man of scanter amenities. All that kind of thing was, in his view, I think, a waste of time, a foolish encouragement to men who were likely to be seeking favors. "Good day," he said, once and for all, as he came in at the open door. "Baynes, I want to have a talk with you and the boy." I remember how each intake of his breath hissed through his lips as he sat down. How worn and faded were his clothes and hat, which was still on his head! The lines on his rugged brow and cheeks were deeper than ever. "Tell me what you know about that murder," he demanded. "Wal, I had some business over to Plattsburg," my uncle began. "While I was there I thought I'd go and see Amos. So I drove out to Beekman's farm. They told me that Amos had left there after workin' four days. They gave him fourteen shillin's an' he was goin' to take the stage in the mornin'. He left some time in the night an' took Beekman's rifle with him, so they said. There was a piece o' wood broke out o' the stock o' the rifle. That was the kind o' gun that was used in the murder." It surprised me that my uncle knew all this. He had said nothing to me of his journey or its result. "How do you know?" snapped Mr. Grimshaw. "This boy see it plain. It was a gun with a piece o' wood broke out o' the stock." "Is that so?" was the brusque demand of the money-lender as he turned to me. "Yes, sir," I answered. "The boy lies," he snapped, and turning to my uncle added: "Yer mad 'cause I'm tryin' to make ye pay yer honest debts--ain't ye now?" We were stunned by this quick attack. Uncle Peabody rose suddenly and sat down again. Mr. Grimshaw looked at him with a strange smile and a taunting devilish laugh came out of his open lips. Uncle Peabody, keeping his temper, shook his head and calmly said: "No I ain't anything ag'in' you or Amos, but it's got to be so that a man can travel the roads o' this town without gettin' his head blowed off." Mr. Dunkelberg jumped into the breach then, saying: "I told Mr. Grimshaw that you hadn't any grudge against him or his boy and that I knew you'd do what you could to help in this matter." "Of course I'll help in any way I can," my uncle answered. "I couldn't harm him if I tried--not if he's innocent. All he's got to do is to prove where he was that night." "Suppose he was lost in the woods?" Mr. Dunkelberg asked. "The truth wouldn't harm him any," my uncle insisted. "Them tracks wouldn't fit his boots, an' they'd have to." Mr. Dunkelberg turned to me and asked: "Are you sure that the stock of the gun you saw was broken?" "Yes, sir-and I'm almost sure it was Amos that ran away with it." "Why?" "I picked up a stone and threw it at him and it grazed the left side of his face, and the other night I saw the scar it made."