"Yes, it was De Senectute,--an English version Mr. Garney had lent me."
I stopped to think. That was the book young Chapman had had in his hand the day I hunted him up,--the day after the murder.
"Are you certain it was that book and no other you read?" I asked. I felt that I had a thread in my fingers,--a filmy thread that might break if I did not work carefully.
"Quite sure. I picked it up at first just to read anything, because it was lying there. Mr. Garney had left it that afternoon. And then I became interested in it. It was quieting. It made me feel that after all life is short and what was the use of cherishing ill-will and bitterness towards--well, even a rascal like Barker. It would all be over so soon."
"And with that thought in your mind, you went off and shot him, did you?" I asked with a smile.
He looked perplexed, and did not answer.
"You didn't have another copy of De Senectute about? I want to be sure."
"I am sure. Mr. Garney left it with me that afternoon and asked me to pass it on to Chapman when I had looked it over."
"And you did?"
"No. I--I haven't been back to the house, you know, since--since that morning."