Dick Birch did ask, and the cashier did answer, such questions, solely in the interests of justice. The balance was between nine and ten thousand dollars. The cashier promised to inform Birch if this balance was reduced by the payment of any check greater than one thousand dollars. Dick left the cashier with the feeling that, if Sandy McGuire suddenly became a rich man, he should be promptly notified of the fact. But even now, Dick was not quite satisfied with what he had done, and he employed a smart young fellow, in whom he could place confidence, to watch Sandy McGuire, and follow him wherever he went. Having done all these things, he ate his breakfast and went down to the river. The sheriff was there, with three men whom he had employed for the occasion, and in two small boats they embarked for The Great Bell. These men were provided with grapnels, boat-hooks, eel-spears, and other apparatus, to be used in ascertaining what was upon the bottom of the channel in the vicinity of the cliff from which Buckstone had been precipitated into the water. Though the sheriff was the commanding presence of the occasion, Dick Birch furnished all the theories and suggestions. They were fishing for the rope and the weight, and the position and condition in which they might be found were expected to add another link in the testimony either for or against the identity of the stranger with Birch. Two men in one boat with the sheriff dragged a grapnel; Dick and another man, in the other boat, used eel-spears, with which they expected to fasten upon the rope. It was a tedious operation; and there was nothing which was in the slightest degree romantic or interesting about it. All they hoped to find was the rope and weight, and there was nothing even horrible about these articles. “I’ve got sunthin,” said Hubbard, the fisherman, who occupied the boat with Dick. “So have I,” replied Birch, who had too often been disappointed during the morning to be very hopeful. “I’ve got hold of sunthin heavy,” continued Hubbard, as he tugged away at the eel-spear. Dick hauled up a large, heavy piece of kelp at the same moment, as he had done fifty times before. It was nearly noon, and he was almost discouraged. The channel had been dragged, and there was little hope of finding anything. They were now at work directly under the cliff from which Buckstone had been thrown. “Pull it up, and see what you have,” said Dick, as he disengaged the kelp from his spear. “I cal’late I’ve got hold of sunthin heavier than a devil’s apron this time,” continued Hubbard, as Dick turned his attention to the operations of his companion. “Pull away.” “I’m a little afeard it will give way, Mr. Birch. Jest you take that long-handled boat-hook, and kinder stidy it, when I pull. I cal’late I got hold of sunthin this time.” Dick was interested, though not very hopeful, and he thrust the boat-hook down till he grappled the object to which Hubbard had fastened with the spear.