He shook his head with an air of distaste. "No. I know nothing about him. I shouldn't, you know."
"You never heard of Diavolo?"
"Not the opera?" he asked doubtfully.
"No. A professional hypnotist with whom Barker was connected in a business way."
"No, I never heard of him."
"Did you ever hear of William Jordan? Or of Eden Valley?"
"No." He looked puzzled.
"I have an idea that it may have been Diavolo who shot Barker!" I said carelessly.
He looked surprised, and then, deferentially and hesitatingly, he expressed his dissent.
"I suppose you feel that you have to fight for me, as my lawyer, but--what's the use in this case? I don't understand these things, of course, but I'd rather have it settled with as little fuss as possible. I shot him, and I am not sorry, and--I'd like to have it all over with as soon as possible." His voice was steady enough, and the gallant lift of his head made me think of his sister, but I thought I saw a look of dread somewhere back in his eye. Perhaps he was beginning to weaken! I determined to press the point a little.