“W-w-who says so?” quavered the wretched man.

“You’ll know who at the proper time.  I’ll tell you one thing.  It won’t look good for you that you held out all you know till it was a showdown.”

“I ain’t holdin’ out, I tell you.  What business you got to come here devilin’ me, I’d like for to know?”

“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.”

“He claims to have a witness,” Hull managed to get out from a dry throat.

“A witness of what?” snapped the woman.

“That—­that I—­was in Cunningham’s rooms.”

For an instant the woman quailed.  A spasm of fear flashed over her face and was gone.

“He’ll claim anything to get outa the hole he’s in,” she said dryly.  Then, swiftly, her anger pounced on the Wyoming man.  “You get outa my house.  We don’t have to stand yore impudence—­an’ what’s more, we won’t.  Do you hear?  Get out, or I’ll send for the police.  I ain’t scared any of you.”

The amateur detective got out.  He had had the worst of the bout.  But he had discovered one or two things.  If he could get Olson to talk, and could separate the fat, flabby man from his flinty wife, it would not be hard to frighten a confession from Hull of all he knew.  Moreover, in his fear Hull had let slip one admission.  Shibo, the little janitor, had some evidence against him.  Hull knew it.  Why was Shibo holding it back?  The fat man had practically said that Shibo had seen him come out of Cunningham’s rooms, or at least that he was a witness he had been in the apartment.  Yet he had withheld the fact when he had been questioned by the police.  Had Hull bribed him to keep quiet?

The cattleman found Shibo watering the lawn of the parking in front of the Paradox.  According to his custom, he plunged abruptly into what he wanted to say.  He had discovered that if a man is not given time to frame a defense, he is likely to give away something he had intended to conceal.