Wouldn't you?"
"No!" snapped Parton. "But then I'm not you. You can do as you
please. Don't let me influence you against him--if he's to your
taste."
"He isn't at all to my taste," I retorted. "I don't care for him
particularly, but it seems to me courtesy requires that we show a
little interest in his welfare."
"Be courteous, then, and show your interest," said Parton. "I don't
care as long as I am not dragged into it."
I sent my card up by the boy, who, returning in a moment, said that
the door was locked, adding that when he had knocked upon it there
came no answer, from which he presumed that Mr. Barker had gone to
sleep.
"He seemed all right when you took his supper to his room?" I
queried.
"He said he wouldn't have any supper. Just wanted to be left alone,"
said the boy.
"Sulking over the knife still, I imagine," sneered Parton; and then
he and I retired to our room and prepared for bed.
I do not suppose I had slept for more than an hour when I was
awakened by Parton, who was pacing the floor like a caged tiger, his
eyes all ablaze, and laboring under an intense nervous excitement.
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