ir."

"Very well: let's have your story from the beginning to the end. I'll be
honest with you: I believe a good deal of what you've told me. Some of
your story I don't believe. Other portions of it need substantiation. But
you are mighty close to being charged with murder--and now is your
chance to clear yourself. Go to it!"

Barker plunged a hand into his pocket. "Can I smoke, Mr. Carroll?"

"Certainly. And sit down."

They drew up their chairs before the fire. Carroll did not look at
Barker, but Leverage's steady gaze was fixed on the man's crafty face.

"I'm going to come clean with you, Mr. Carroll. I'm going to tell you
everythin' I know--and everythin' I think. I didn't want to do it--and I
don't want to now. But I'd a heap rather have the job of convincin' you
that I ain't mixed up in this murder than I would of makin' a jury
believe the same thing. I reckon you'll give me a square deal."

"I will," snapped Carroll. "Go ahead."

"In the first place," started Barker slowly, "it's my personal opinion
that Mr. Warren never had no idea of marryin' Miss Gresham. Maybe I'm all
wrong there--but it's what I think. I can't prove that, of course--an' no
one else can't either.

"Also I happen to know that he's been crazy about Mrs. Lawrence for a
long time. He's been hangin' around the house a good deal--an' doin'
little things like a man will when he's nuts about a woman. For
instance, Mr. Warren wasn't no investing man: s'far's I know he had all
his money in gover'ment bonds and such like investments. But he sank some
money into them woolen mills that Mr. Lawrence owns. And also he
pretended that he liked that kid sister of Mrs. Lawrence's--Evelyn
Rogers. But there ain't hardly a doubt in my mind, Mr. Carroll--an' I'm
handin' it to you straight--that he was crazy about Mrs. Lawrence. And,
not meanin' no impertinence, sir--I ain't blamin' him a bit.

"Also, I reckon she wasn't exactly indifferent to him. She's been up in
his apartment twice--which is a terrible risky thing, an' somethin' no
woman will do unless she's wild about a feller. Oh! everything was proper
while she was there. I was at home all the time and I know. But she
was--what you call, indiscreet--that is, in comin' up there at all--no
matter how decent she acted when she was there. An' also, sir, she used
to write him notes--most every day."

"You have some of those notes?"

"No, sir. I had one--if you want the truth--but when I saw you was
wat