"And yet it is a pity to have your life run into the sand in that way," I said earnestly. "There might be much for you in the future,--success, love, honor,--" I watched him closely. His face quivered under the probe, but he did not speak.
"Miss Thurston is heartbroken," I added, relentlessly.
He looked at me as a dumb animal under the knife might look, and then he dropped his face into his hands. I pressed the matter while he was at my mercy.
"If you did not shoot Barker,--if you are in fact innocent,--don't, for Heaven's sake, let any foolish idea of saving someone else lead you to lie about it. There could be no one worthy of saving at that cost. And, besides, if you are lying, I am going to find out the truth in spite of you."
He lifted his head, but he did not look at me.
"I am not lying. Why should I? I supposed anyone would believe a man who said he had done--a thing like that."
"I wish you would tell me about it again,--just what you did." (I wanted to see if his story would vary.)
He dropped his eyes to the floor thoughtfully. "I went to his office," he said slowly. "I went through the outer office and into the inner office. They were both empty. I locked the door and waited. I watched through a hole in the curtain over the glass in the door. A man came in, waited a little, and went out. Then Barker came. I waited till he came close to the door. Then I fired. I saw him fall. Then I went down the fire-escape and got out into the street." As he finished, he raised his eyes from the floor and looked at me. His glance was not entirely frank, and yet I could not call it evasive.
"There was no one else in the room with you?"
"No one."