sufficient."

Barker assumed a defensive attitude.

"Anyway," said he, "that didn't make me sore at him, because he give me a
month's pay; and that's just as good as a notice, ain't it?"

"Ye-e-es, I guess it is." Carroll hesitated. "Did he pay you in cash?"

"Yeh--cash."

Again Carroll hesitated for a moment, while he lighted a cigarette. When
he spoke again, his tone was merely conversational, almost casual.

"You've read the papers--all about Mr. Warren's murder, haven't you?"

"I'll say I have."

"What do you think about it?"

Again that startled look in Barker's eyes. Again the nervous twitching
of hands.

"Whatcha mean, what do I think about it?"

"The woman in the taxicab--do you think she killed him?"

Barker drew a deep breath. One might have fancied that it was a sigh
of relief.

"Oh, _her_? Sure! She's the person that killed him!"

"He knew a good many women?" suggested Carroll interrogatively. "He got
along pretty well with them?"

"H-m!" William Barker nodded. "You said it then, Mr. Carroll. Mr.
Warren--he was a bird with the women!"

CHAPTER VIII

CARROLL MAKES A MOVE

No slightest move of Warren's erstwhile valet--no twitching of facial
muscles, no involuntary gesture of nervousness, however slight--escaped
Carroll's attention; but with all his watchfulness, the boyish-looking
investigator was unostentatious, almost retiring in his manner.

And this modest demeanor was having its effect on William Barker, just as
Carroll had known it would have, and as Leverage had hoped. Eric Leverage
had worked with Carroll before, and he had seen the man's personal charm,
his sunny smile, his attitude of camaraderie, perform miracles. People
had a way of talking freely to Carroll after he had chatted with them
awhile, no matter how bitter the hostility surrounding their first
meeting. Carroll was that way--he was a student of practical every-day
psychology. He worked to one end--he endeavored to learn the mental
reactions of every one of his _dramatis persoae_ toward the fact of the
crime he happened to be investigating; that and, as nearly as possible,
their feelings at the moment of the commission of the crime, no matter
where they might have been.

"It doesn't matter what a suspect says," he had told Leverage once. "Some
of them tell the truth and some of them lie. Often the truth sounds
untrue, while the lies carry all the earmarks of honesty. It's a sheer
guess on the part of any