"Very good! Now, sit down, William."
William seated himself with ill grace. Carroll spoke again, but this time the softness had returned to his tones. His manner approached downright friendliness.
"We came here to talk with you, Barker," he said frankly. "We don't know a thing about your connection with this case; but we do know that you were valet to Roland Warren, and therefore must possess a great deal of information about him which no one else could possibly have. All we want is to learn what you know about this tragedy—what you know and what you think."
Barker raised his head. For a long time he stared silently at Carroll.
"I don't know who you are," he remarked at length; "but you seem to be on the level."
"I am on the level," returned Carroll quietly. "My name is David
Carroll—"
"O-o-oh! So you're David Carroll?" The query was a sincere tribute.
"Yes, I'm Carroll, and I'm working on the Warren case. I don't want to cause trouble for any one, but there are certain facts which I must learn. You can tell me some of them. No person who is innocent has the slightest thing to fear from me. And so—Barker—if you have nothing to conceal, I'd advise that you talk frankly."
"I ain't got nothin' to conceal. What made you think I had?"
"I don't think so. I don't think anything definite at this stage of the game. I want to find out what you know."