Jeff shook his head doubtfully.
“Evidence was pretty strong—pretty strong! Who was it then?”
“Why, Lake himself—the old hog!”
“If Lake keeps on like this he’s going to have people down on him,” said Jeff. “Who did the holmesing—John Wesley?”
“Oh, John Wesley! John Wesley!” said Dines scornfully. “You think the sun rises and sets in old John Wesley Pringle. Naw; he didn’t get back till it was all over. I cannot tell a lie. I did it with my little hatchet!”
“Must have had it sharpened up!” said Jeff. “Tell it to me!”
“Why, there isn’t much to tell,” said Dines, suddenly modest. “Come to think of it, I had right considerable help. There was a young college chap—he first put it into my head that it wasn’t you.”
“That would be the devil?” said Jeff, ignoring the insult.
“Just so. Name’s White—and so’s he: Billy White, S. M. and G. P.”
“I don’t just remember them degrees,” said Jeff.