He smiled as he handed back the tin cup which had held it. "Yes—steady now!" he said.
"Who gave you the message?" again asked Master Putnam.
Ezekiel looked solemn and thoughtful. "Who gave 'im the message," replied Ezekiel slowly.
"Yes—who sent you to me?"
"Who sent yer—to—me?" again repeated Ezekiel. "Ipswich. Crown and Anchor. At once. Wait till he comes." Then the old man's countenance cleared up, as if everything now must be perfectly satisfactory.
"Oh there is no use in trying to get any more out of him—he is too much fuddled," said Mistress Putnam impatiently.
"More rum—steady me!" mumbled Ezekiel.
"No, not a drop more," said Thomas Putnam peremptorily. "You have had too much already."
The old man frowned—and turning the skeleton steed after considerable effort, he gave his parting shot—"Crown and anchor—wait till he comes!" and rode off in a spasmodic trot down the lane.
"I shall have to go to Ipswich, and see about this, it may supply the missing link in our chain of evidence!"