"Look up Barker."
"But Barker is dead, and his knowledge has died with him."
The manager shook his head. "You've got your work cut out for you, then. Barker was the only one to come into the open. Diavolo always stood back and let Barker do the talking. Might have thought Diavolo was deaf and dumb for all you heard of him until he stepped out on the stage. Then he talked all right,--stage patter, of course, but clever."
"You think then that this was not his first appearance on the stage?"
"Hard to say. Barker said he was an old un, but that he had given it up to go into something else,--something respectable. I didn't believe it at the time, on general principles, but maybe he was giving it to me straight."
I then followed the trail to the hotel where Diavolo had stopped, and here I encountered a girl who had her wits about her and knew how to use her eyes. She was the daughter of the landlady, and she acted as clerk, waitress, or chambermaid, as occasion required. She looked up with more than professional interest when I mentioned Diavolo's name.
"You mean that dude that was here in the summer and read people's thoughts at the Orpheum? Say, wasn't he great! Know him?"
"Not so well as I hope to. What did he look like?"
"Oh, he had black hair and a beard, and eyes that kind of looked through you. Say, it's hard to describe a man, you all look so much alike,--oh, dress so much alike, you know. But Diavolo was different, though I don't just know how to explain it. He was a sure-enough swell off the stage, wasn't he?"
"What makes you think that?"