"The man who did the actual shooting," he said quietly--"have you the slightest idea as to his identity?" "No." Her manner was almost indifferent: the strain was over--she was hardly conscious of what she was saying. "He was smaller than Mr. Warren--a man of about my husband's size--" She stopped abruptly! Carroll's gaze grew steely--he made a note of the expression of horror in her eyes. "About your husband's size!" he repeated softly. CHAPTER XXI CARROLL DECIDES For a moment she was silent. It was patent that she was groping desperately for the correct thing to say. And finally she extended a pleading hand-- "Please--don't think that!" "What?" "That is was--was my husband. He wouldn't--" "Why not?" "Anyway--it is impossible. He was in Nashville. He didn't get home until morning." Carroll shook his head. "I hope he can prove he was in Nashville. We have tried to prove it, and we cannot. And you must admit, Mrs. Lawrence, that had he known what you planned he would have had the justification of the unwritten law--" Her eyes brightened. "You think, then--that if he did--he would be acquitted?" "Yes. More so in view of your story that there was a fight between the two men. That would probably add self-defense to his plea. However, I may be wrong in that--" "You are indeed, Mr. Carroll. My husband--isn't that kind of a man. And even if he had done the shooting--he could not have concealed it from me for this length of time. He would have given a hint--" "No-o. He wouldn't have done that. If he shot Warren he would have been afraid of telling even you." She walked to the window where she stood for a moment looking out on the drear December day. Then she turned tragically back to Carroll. "You are going to arrest me?" "No." "Why not?" "Because I believe your story, Mrs. Lawrence. And so long as there is any way to keep your name clear of the whole miserable mess, I shall do so." "But if you arrest my husband--" "I have no intention of doing that, either--unless I am convinced that he was in the city when the shooting occurred. I am not in favor of indiscriminate arrests. In this case, they can do nothing but harm." "You are very good," she said softly. "I didn't imagine that a detective--" "Some of us are human beings, Mrs. Lawrence. Is that so strange?" She did not answer, and for several minutes they sat in silence--each intent in thought. It was Carroll who broke the stillness: "Do you know William Barker?" "Barker? Why, yes--certainly. He was Mr. Warren's valet." "I know it. Have you seen Barker since the night Mr. Warren was killed?" "Yes." He could scarcely distinguish her answer. "Twice." "He called here?" "Yes." "Was your husband at home on either occasion?" "No." "Why did he come here?"