Again Griswold told the exact truth.
"The last I saw of him he was making a run for it up the levee, with one of the plain-clothes men chasing him."
M'Grath found his handcuffs and tried the key in those upon Griswold's wrists. It fitted.
"Now ye're fut- and hand-loose, I'll say to ye what I wouldn't say to a cripple. If ye've been telling me the truth, 'tis only the half av it. What have ye been doing, Gavitt?"
Griswold smiled. "Toting cargo on the Belle Julie, since you've known me. You'd swear to that, wouldn't you?"
"But before that?"
"Loafing around New Orleans for a month or two."
The big mate pushed him to a seat on the after berth and sat down opposite.
"Because ye fished me out o' the river whin ye had good cause to lave me be, I'll tell ye a thing or two for the good av yer soul. Thing number wan is that ye're not Gavitt; ye're no more like him than I am. Let that go, an' come to thing number two; ye've been up to some deviltry. How do I know? Because, at the last landing below this a little man comes aboard an' spots you. Is that all? It is not. Whin the Belle Julie swings in, he's the first man off, making a clane jump av a good tin feet from the engine-room guards. I saw 'im."
Griswold nodded and said, "I was wondering how they came to place me so easily. This fellow knew I would be one of the two to carry out the spring line?"