“I don’t exactly know what it is. This has been a kind of a broken day to me, and I thought, when I got back from Summerville, I’d jest take a turn over to the rocks there on The Great Bell, and see if there was any lobsters there.” “Did you get any?” asked Dick, with a smile, but rather impatiently, for, not being in the lobster trade, he was not particularly interested in the fisherman’s narrative. “I cal’late I did get some nice ones; but I don’t reckon you keer much about the lobsters. I found sunthin else.” “What, Hubbard?” “I cal’late it’s a piece of paper. I don’t know as it’s good for anything,” continued Hubbard, as he took his greasy wallet from his pocket. “Clean up under the rocks there, beyond the cliff, I found this ’ere.” He took from the wallet a paper stained with dirt, and half pulverized by the action of the salt water. “I cal’late it has been there since the night of the murder. I see Buckstone’s name on it, and that made me think it might be we’th sunthin to you.” Dick Birch eagerly took the paper. It was the letter he had written to Buckstone. It had been taken from the original envelope, and thrown away, while the letter written by Dr. Bilks for the occasion had been substituted, and replaced in the pocket of the murdered man, where it had been found. This was Dick’s explanation; it might be correct, and might not. “I thought I would give this to you, Mr. Birch,” added Hubbard. “You did quite right.” “I cal’late it’s sunthin to do with the letter you told on in the court.” “It is; I wrote this letter, but I did not write the one found on the body of Buckstone. Hubbard, Dr. Bilks would have given you a fifty-dollar bill for this letter.” “Would he?” replied the fisherman, honestly. “He would. Dr. Bilks is a villain. He sunk that body.” “I cal’late you can’t make folks believe that,” said Hubbard, incredulously. “I shall make them believe it, Hubbard, one of these days,” replied Dick, as he took a fifty-dollar bill from his pocket. “You shall lose nothing by bringing this letter to me instead of the doctor.” “Go ’way, Mr. Birch,” said Hubbard, pushing aside the hand that offered him the bank note. “I don’t want none of your money. I don’t take nothin I hain’t earned.” “But the doctor would have given you this--perhaps more.” “I don’t keer for that; I cal’late I ain’t goin to take no fifty dollars for pickin up that letter.” “But you have done me a very great favor, Hubbard.” “So much the better for you, and me too. I’m glad on’t. When I earn any money, I allus take it.”