Barker hesitated before replying, and when he did answer it was patent that his words were chosen carefully.
"I don't hardly reckon he was, Mr. Carroll. Mind you, I'm not sayin' he wasn't; but then again I ain't sayin' he was. I can't do nothin' only guess—same as you can."
"I see!" Carroll was apparently unconscious of Barker's flagrant evasion. "What I don't understand is this—when Mr. Warren was publicly engaged to Miss Gresham, why did he try to elope with her?"
"Elope with Miss Gresham?" Barker paused; then a slow, calculating smile creased his lips. "Miss Gresham—her he was engaged to! Dog-gone if I don't believe you've hit the nail on the head, Mr. Carroll!"
"What nail?"
"About her bein' the woman in the taxi. You know some fellers is like that—they'd a heap rather elope with a woman they're crazy about than stand up in a church and get married. They're sort of romantic." Barker was waxing loquacious. "You know, you must be right. Fact, if you put it right up to me, I'd say there wasn't no doubt that Miss Gresham was the woman in the taxicab."
"I had that idea," responded Carroll slowly. "But what I can't understand, Barker, and what you might help me figure out, is this—why should Miss Gresham kill Mr. Warren?"
"Huh! Ask me somethin' easy, will you? I never was good at riddles."
Leverage marveled at the change in the two men. Apparently Carroll had swallowed hook, line, and sinker. Of course, Leverage was pretty sure that he had not; but he was also sure that Barker thought he had. And Barker was volunteering information—plenty of it—that was absolutely valueless. For the first time he was forcing the conversational pace, and Carroll seemed serenely content to drag limply along.
"Reckon she might have been jealous of him?" drawled Carroll.