"No, it was made payable to bearer."
"Indeed?" He laughed a little maliciously. "I wonder how Barker got hold of it!"
"Barker had ways of getting money," I said drily. There was no reason why he should take me into his confidence, of course--and, judging from what I knew of Barker, probably there was every reason why he should not,--but his reserve was somewhat tantalizing! It would have been natural for him to mention the fact of his own acquaintance or business dealings with Barker when he first interviewed me,--unless they were of the nature that people don't discuss. Had Barker been levying blackmail on him also? In spite of his inscrutability, I was sure my information had disturbed him, though he was not surprised. Had he been nerving himself for the discovery? I reflected that ease, long continued, makes people soft. Mr. Ellison was probably less fit to meet trouble than Jean.
I went down the street to the next house, where Mr. Whyte and my dear white-haired friend were sitting on the front porch, taking in the pleasant evening air. (It was early in October.) They appeared to have been sitting quiet in the sympathetic silence of the long married, but from the way in which Whyte wrung my hand I could see that the quiet covered a good deal of emotional strain.
"What can be done for the poor boy?" was Mrs. Whyte's first question.
"I don't know yet. I am simply gathering the facts at present."
"It's a terrible business," said Mr. Whyte. "Ellison tells me that he has asked you to defend Gene, but I don't see that the boy has left you much legal ammunition. He confesses the shooting."
"The law will have to take cognizance of the facts attending the shooting,--his youth, the provocation, the circumstances. I don't despair. But I want to know everything possible,--his temperament, his associations, his friends. You can help me here, Mrs. Whyte."
"How? Dear knows I'll be glad to."
"Has he ever talked about avenging his father's death? Has that been on his mind?"