"He never said that. Y-you must be mistaken."
"Mebbeso. You didn't go back, then?"
The monosyllable "No" came quavering from her yellow throat.
"I don't want you to feel that I'm here to take an advantage of you, Mrs. Hull," Kirby said. "A good many have been suspected of these murders. Your husband is one of these suspects. I'm another. I mean to find out who killed Cunningham an' Horikawa. I think I know already. In my judgment your husband didn't do it. If he did, so much the worse for him. No innocent person has anything to fear from me. But this is the point I'm makin' now. If you like I'll leave a statement here signed by me to the effect that neither you nor your husband has confessed killing James Cunningham. It might make your mind a little easier to have it."
She hesitated. "Well, if you like."
He stepped to a desk and found paper and pen. "I'll dictate it if you'll write it, Mrs. Hull."
Not quite easy in her mind, the woman sat down and took the pen he offered.
"This is to certify—" Kirby began, and dictated a few sentences slowly.
She wrote the statement, word for word as he gave it, using her left hand. The cattleman signed it. He left the paper with her.
After the arrangement for the private detective to watch Hull had been made, Olson and Lane walked together to the hotel of the latter.