Why, man, even if I could help to prove you innocent of killing John Barkley--" He paused and twisted one of his gray mustaches, half facing the window for a moment.

"Even if I did that," he went on, "you would still have twenty years of prison ahead of you for the worst kind of perjury on the face of the earth, perjury committed at a time when you thought you were dying! You are guilty, Kent.

If not of one thing, then of the other.

I am not playing a game.

And as for the girl--there is no girl at my bungalow." He turned to the door; and Kent made no effort to stop him.