"I'm not devilin' you. I'm tellin' you to come through with what you know, or you'll sure get in trouble. There's a witness against you. When he tells what he saw—"
"Shibo?" The word burst from the man's lips in spite of him.
Kirby did not bat a surprised eye. He went on quietly. "I'll not say who. Except this. Shibo is not the only one who can tell enough to put you on trial for your life. If you didn't kill my uncle you'd better take my tip, Hull. Tell what you know. It'll be better for you."
Mrs. Hull stood in the doorway, thin and sinister. The eyes in her yellow face took in the cattleman and passed to her husband. "What's he doing here?" she asked, biting off her words sharply.
"I was askin' Mr. Hull if he knew who killed my uncle," explained Kirby.
Her eyes narrowed. "Maybe you know," she retorted.
"Not yet. I'm tryin' to find out. Can you give me any help, Mrs.
Hull?"
Their eyes crossed and fought it out.
"What do you want to know?" she demanded.
"I'd like to know what happened in my uncle's rooms when Mr. Hull was up there—say about half-past nine, mebbe a little before or a little after."