“Why?  Because it is straight, every damn word of it, boss.”

And as if to give emphasis to his words the handy-man swung out a grimy fist and dropped it into an equally grimy palm.

“What did you do after that?” asked Gilmore.

“Not much.  I laid low and presently lifted my sack of coal out and ducked around to Lonigan’s saloon.  I went in there by the back door and left my sack leanin’ against the building.  Mike wanted his mail and he give me a drink of whisky if I’d take his keys and go to the post-office for him; I’d just come into the Square when I run into Shrimp who was tellin’ how old man McBride was murdered.  I went into the store and found you there with Colonel Harbison, you remember, boss?” Gilmore nodded and Montgomery continued.  “I hadn’t a chance to tell you what I’d seen, and all night long I kept hearin’ him say it!”

“Say what, Joe?”

“Say, ‘Oh, my God!’ like I told you, boss; I couldn’t sleep for it,—­I wonder if he slept!”

“Joe,” said the gambler, “I’ll tell you something that I have only told the sheriff.  I was in Langham’s office late yesterday and John North was there; he left to go to McBride’s.  Conklin’s been looking for him this morning, but he can’t find him, and no one seems to know what’s become of him.  Do you follow me?”

“What’s North got to do with it, boss?”

“How do you know it wasn’t North you saw in the alley?” urged Gilmore.

“It were not!” said Joe Montgomery positively.

“You saw the man’s face?”

“As plain as I see yours!”

“And you know the man?”

“Yes.”

“Then I’ll tell you who you saw,” said the gambler coolly; “it was Marshall Langham.”

The handy-man swore a great oath.

“You’ve guessed it, boss!  You’ve guessed it.”

“It ain’t a guess as it happens.”

“Boss, do you mean to tell me you knew all along?” demanded Montgomery incredulously.

“Yes.”

“But what about North?”

“That’s his lookout, let him clear himself.”

Joe, shambling and shuffling, took a turn about the room.

“Boss, if it was me that stood in his boots the halter would be as good as about my neck; they wouldn’t give me no chance to clear myself,—­they wouldn’t let me!  Them smart lawyers would twist and turn everything I said so that God A’mighty wouldn’t know His own truth!”

“Well, you were in that alley, Joe; if you feel for him, I expect we could somehow shift it to you!” said Gilmore.

The handy-man slouched to the hearth again.

“None of that, boss!” he cried.  “I’ve told you what took me there, so none of that!”

His voice shook with suppressed feeling, as he stood there scowling down on the gambler.

“Sit down, Joe!” said Mr. Gilmore, unruffled.

Reluctantly the handy-man sank into the chair indicated.