Though the sheriff had been informed of the loss of the rope and the weight, nothing could be made of the fact, and no significance was attached to it. Mr. Birch felt that he had gained something, though he knew not what. He left the owner of the boat, and examined the shore. There might be some person who had been on the beach between nine and ten on the night of the murder; some one who had been a fishing that day, and returned late; some one whose boat needed attention, or some uneasy individual whose wife did not allow him to smoke in the house. There was a current rumor in the Port that somebody had seen two persons get into a boat, and push off about nine o’clock in the evening; but Mr. Birch did not find this person till nine o’clock. It was a man who caught fish for the hotels, and often came in late at night. His name was Josiah Hubbard, and the patient inquirer was quite sure this man would give him a clew to the mysterious stranger. “Hubbard, they say you were on the beach here the night of the murder,” began the lawyer. “Yes, sir; that’s so. I was there, and I told Dr. Bilks I was there,” replied the man, who apparently did not mean to have it appear that he had attempted to conceal his knowledge. “Did you, indeed!” exclaimed Birch, disgusted with this acknowledgment. “I did; and I was ready to go on the stand and tell ’em all I knowed about it. ’Twan’t much; but I don’t want to keep nothin’ back. I did see them men, and I jest as lief tell you on’t as the next man.” “What time was it?” “Well, it was hard on to nine o’clock, I should say.” “Did you know either of the men?” “I cal’late I did.” “Was either of them Mr. Buckstone? Did you know Mr. Buckstone?” “I cal’late I did; he went down a fishing with me times enough for me to know him.” “Was either of them Mr. Buckstone?” asked Birch, with no little eagerness. “I cal’late one on ’em was Mr. Buckstone.” “Could you swear to it?” “I cal’late I shouldn’t want to swear to it, exactly; but I hain’t much more doubt on’t than I had o’ t’other man--Mr. Birch. I don’t reckon you’ll want me to swear to’t.” “Why not?” “Well, Mr. Birch, you ’n’ I hes allers been good friends. When you boarded to the Bell River, you did me one or two good turns, and I ain’t the man to forgit a favor. I kind o’ kept out of the way, and didn’t say much about what I’d seen, ’cause I thought ’twouldn’t do you no good.” “What do you mean?” “Well, I cal’late you know what I mean, Mr. Birch,” said Hubbard, with an expressive grin. “Who was the man with Buckstone?” asked Birch, as a matter of form, for he knew what the answer would be, and was satisfied that Dr. Bilks had already tampered with the man. “I cal’late ’twas you, Mr. Birch.” “You saw me?”