"That's all right," he stammered. "So was I."
"No, you were right, Tom," answered Steve convincedly. "I hadn't any business suspecting you of a thing like that. And—and I want to tell you first that I knew I was wrong a long time ago, before this happened. You believe that, don't you?"
"Yes, Steve, but—what is it that's happened?"
"It's all clear as daylight," said Steve, grinning happily as he seated himself on the bed and tossing his cap toward the table. "It was Sawyer did it. He put up the whole job. He fessed up when 'Horace' got at him. Durkin met him coming out and——"
"Hold on!" begged Tom. "I don't quite get you, Steve!"
Steve laughed. "Sort of confused narrative, eh? Well, listen, then. Drop those trousers and sit down a minute."
"All right, but the barge leaves at half-past——"
"Never you mind the barge, old man! You're not going in it. I'll come to that later, though."
"Take your time," said Tom, dropping into a chair. "I love to hear your innocent prattle."
"Shut up! It's like this, Tom. I met Durkin awhile ago and he got to talking about that shoe-blacking stand. Remember the note he left here that night?" Tom nodded. "Well, it came out that while he was putting it under our door Eric Sawyer walked out and fell over him."