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He paused. The coroner looked at him expectantly. “Well?” he said, “is that all you want to say?” “No, sir,” said Tabb emphatically, “It’s not. What I want to know is this: Who drove the holes in her planking? Rocks didn’t do it. The nearest rock was five feet away. Besides, they weren’t the sort of marks made by a rock. They were holes. Done with a spike.” I did not look at him. I was looking at the floor. There was oil-cloth laid on the boards. Green oil-cloth. I looked at it. I wondered why...

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