the
anatomical expert. To the casual observer his weight would have been
catalogued at about a hundred and forty. At a glance Carroll knew that it
was nearer a hundred and eighty. Normal breadth of shoulder was more than
made up for by unusual depth of chest. Ready-made trousers bulged with
the enormous muscular development of calf and thigh. The face,
clean-shaven, was sullen with the fear inspired by the sudden entrance of
Carroll and Leverage; and there was more than a hint of evil in it. As
they watched, the sullenness of expression was supplanted by a leer, and
then by a mask of professional placidity--the bovine expression which one
expects to find in the average specimen of masculine hired help.

The man's demeanor was a combination of abjectness and hostility. He was
plainly frightened, yet striving to appear at ease.

Carroll and Leverage maintained silence. Barker fidgeted nervously, and
finally, when the strain became too great, burst out with:

"Who are you fellers? Whatcha want?"

Carroll spoke softly.

"William Barker?"

"What if that is my name?"

Carroll's hands spread wide.

"Just wanted to be sure, that's all. You _are_ William Barker?"

"An' what if I am? What you got to do with that?"

Carroll showed his badge.

"And this gentleman," he finished, designating Leverage, "is chief
of police."

Barker's voice came back to him in a half whine, half snarl.

"I ain't done nothin'--"

"Nobody has accused you yet."

"Well, when you bust in on a feller like this--"

Carroll seated himself, and Leverage followed suit. He motioned Barker
to a chair.

"Let's talk things over," he suggested mildly.

"Ain't nothin' to talk over."

"You're William Barker, aren't you?"

"I ain't said I ain't, have I?"

Carroll's eyes grew a bit harder. His voice cracked out:

"What's your name?"

Barker met his gaze; then the eyes of the ex-valet shifted.

"William Barker," he answered almost unintelligibly.

"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 lear