For a minute or so I didn't answer. Then I knocked the ashes out of my pipe and says I, "Why, yes. I know him. What of it?"
"Oh, nothin' much," he says. "Only I was told he was a partic'lar friend of yours and Mr. Jacobs's and—and—"
"Who told you he was our partic'lar friend?" I asked.
"Why, he did. I was up there yesterday, just hintin' I could use a check on account. Not pressin' the matter nor tryin' to be hard on him, you understand; course he's all right; but I was mighty short of ready cash and so—"
"Hold on, Al!" I said, quick. "Wait! Does the 'Sign of the Windmill' owe you a bill?"
"Pretty nigh a hundred dollars," says he. "I've supplied 'em with fish and lobsters and clams and such ever since they started. Fust month they paid me by the week. After that—"
"Good heavens and earth!" I sung out. "My soul and body! And—and, when you asked for it, this—this Frank man told you he'd pay you when 'twas convenient, same as he paid Jacobs and me, who was his friends and was quite ready to do business that way."
He actually jumped, I'd surprised him so.
"Hey?" he sung out. "Zeb Snow, be you a second-sighter? How did you know he told me that?"
I drew a long breath. "It didn't take second sight for that," I says. "I was up there last Monday and he told me the same thing, only 'twas you and Ed Cahoon who was his friends then."