“Barrett, look. I know that you are a highly intelligent and an intuitive man, and that you have a gift for fathoming people. Isn’t that true?” “I don’t know,” he said glumly. “I think you can tell when somebody is deadly serious about something, can’t you?” “I couldn’t say.” “Then I am charging you with the responsibility. You will have to fathom that according to your own lights.” “You can’t—” But the circuits had closed on unhappy old Alabama, frying away in its own juices.
