"In the first place," started Barker slowly, "it's my personal opinion that Mr. Warren never had no idea of marryin' Miss Gresham. Maybe I'm all wrong there—but it's what I think. I can't prove that, of course—an' no one else can't either.
"Also I happen to know that he's been crazy about Mrs. Lawrence for a long time. He's been hangin' around the house a good deal—an' doin' little things like a man will when he's nuts about a woman. For instance, Mr. Warren wasn't no investing man: s'far's I know he had all his money in gover'ment bonds and such like investments. But he sank some money into them woolen mills that Mr. Lawrence owns. And also he pretended that he liked that kid sister of Mrs. Lawrence's—Evelyn Rogers. But there ain't hardly a doubt in my mind, Mr. Carroll—an' I'm handin' it to you straight—that he was crazy about Mrs. Lawrence. And, not meanin' no impertinence, sir—I ain't blamin' him a bit.
"Also, I reckon she wasn't exactly indifferent to him. She's been up in his apartment twice—which is a terrible risky thing, an' somethin' no woman will do unless she's wild about a feller. Oh! everything was proper while she was there. I was at home all the time and I know. But she was—what you call, indiscreet—that is, in comin' up there at all—no matter how decent she acted when she was there. An' also, sir, she used to write him notes—most every day."
"You have some of those notes?"
"No, sir. I had one—if you want the truth—but when I saw you was watchin' me—sure, I know you've had a couple of dicks shadowing me—I destroyed it."
"Where are the rest of her letters?"
"Mr. Warren used to burn 'em up careful. He wasn't takin' no chances of someone findin' 'em and he bein' caught in a scandal—which is why I think he really cared about her serious. His other lady friends he used to joke about—but never Mrs. Lawrence. An' the one letter of her's that I had—I'm betting that he looked for three days without stopping before he gave it up as a bad job.
"That's the way things was when I seen him begin to make arrangements to get away from town. It wasn't supposed to be none of my business and Mr. Warren never was a feller I could ask questions of. When he had something to tell me, he told it—an' I never got nothin' out of him by askin'. But, bein' his valet, there was certain things I couldn't very well miss knowin'. I know his apartment is sublet for the new tenants to come in on the first of the month, he placed his car with a dealer to be sold and he didn't order a new one an' he drew a whole heap of cash out of the bank the day before he was killed.
"Also that day he sent me downtown to do some shoppin'. While I was downtown I seen him go into the railroad ticket office. I didn't pay much attention to that then and later on he drove by the house for a minute. I had taken his laprobe out of the car the night before and forgot to put it back—so I thought I'd better do it. I went downstairs without his knowing it—and when I put the laprobe in the car I seen he had a suit-case in there. An' the suit-case wasn't his, sir—the initials on it was N.L.—which, if you know, sir—Mrs. Lawrence's name is Naomi.
"That made things pretty clear to me then. He drove off and come back about a half hour later. I looked when he come back and the suit-case wasn't in the car no more. And it was then that he handed me a big wad of wages in advance and told me he wasn't going to need me no more and I could quit any time after five o'clock in the afternoon."