"But you don't remember that, do you?" I asked. "You think you must have,--but do you remember it, as you do the first?"
The perspiration sprang out on his white forehead. "I remembered when I woke up that I had killed Barker in the night."
"You remember that you thought in the morning that you had killed Barker in the night," I said sharply, "but do you remember killing him? Do you remember, as a matter of fact, going to his office? Tell me something you saw or did, to prove that you actually remember the events of the night."
His face was pitiable. "I can't! I remember going to sleep over the De Senectute and I remember waking up in the morning with the gas burning in the sunshine,--and I know, of course, that I went out in the night and killed Barker,--but I can't remember it! Do you suppose I am losing my mind?"
"I think you are just recovering possession of it," I said, unsteadily. "By the way, I told you a few minutes ago that Garney had been arrested for complicity in a murder. You don't ask whose."
"Whose?" he demanded, startled.
"Alfred Barker's."
"I don't understand--at all," he faltered.
"Garney was in Barker's inner office the night Barker was shot. If you were there, you saw him."
He shook his head. "I did not see him."