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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6833f05 --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,3 @@ +* text=auto +*.txt text +*.md text diff --git a/17066-8.txt b/17066-8.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..edd73a9 --- /dev/null +++ b/17066-8.txt @@ -0,0 +1,9466 @@ +The Project Gutenberg eBook, Tangled Trails, by William MacLeod Raine + + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + + + + +Title: Tangled Trails + A Western Detective Story + + +Author: William MacLeod Raine + + + +Release Date: November 14, 2005 [eBook #17066] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + + +***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK TANGLED TRAILS*** + + +E-text prepared by Al Haines + + + +TANGLED TRAILS + +A Western Detective Story + +by + +WILLIAM MACLEOD RAINE + +Author of +The Big-Town Round-Up, Gunsight Pass, Etc. + + + + + + + +Grosset & Dunlap +Publishers New York +Made in the United States of America +Copyright, 1921, by William Macleod Raine +All Rights Reserved +Third Impression, March, 1922 + + + + + +CONTENTS + + I. NO ALTRUIST + II. WILD ROSE TAKES THE DUST + III. FOR THE CHAMPIONSHIP OF THE WORLD + IV. NOT ALWAYS TWO TO MAKE A QUARREL + V. COUSINS MEET + VI. LIGHTS OUT + VII. FOUL PLAY + VIII. BY MEANS OF THE FIRE ESCAPE + IX. THE STORY IN THE "NEWS" + X. KIRBY ASKS A DIRECT QUESTION + XI. THE CORONER'S INQUEST + XII. "THAT'S THE MAN" + XIII. "ALWAYS, PHYLLIS" + XIV. A FRIEND IN NEED + XV. A GLOVE AND THE HAND IN IT + XVI. THE LADY WITH THE VIOLET PERFUME + XVII. IN DRY VALLEY + XVIII. "BURNIN' A HOLE IN MY POCKET" + XIX. A DISCOVERY + XX. THE BRASS BED + XXI. JAMES LOSES HIS TEMPER + XXII. "ARE YOU WITH ME OR AGAINST ME?" + XXIII. COUSINS DISAGREE + XXIV. REVEREND NICODEMUS RANKIN FORGETS AND REMEMBERS + XXV. A CONFERENCE OF THREE + XXVI. CUTTING TRAIL + XXVII. THE DETECTIVE GETS TWO SURPRISES + XXVIII. THE FINGER OF SUSPICION POINTS + XXIX. "COME CLEAN, JACK" + XXX. KIRBY MAKES A CALL + XXXI. THE MASK OF THE RED BANDANNA + XXXII. JACK TAKES OFF HIS COAT + XXXIII. OLSON TELLS A STORY + XXXIV. FROM THE FIRE ESCAPE + XXXV. LIKE A THIEF IN THE NIGHT + XXXVI. A RIDE IN A TAXI + XXXVII. ON THE GRILL + XXXVIII. A FULL MORNING + XXXIX. KIRBY INVITES HIMSELF TO A RIDE + XL. THE MILLS OF THE GODS + XLI. ENTER _X_ + XLII. THE NEW WORLD + + + + +TANGLED TRAILS + + +CHAPTER I + +NO ALTRUIST + +Esther McLean brought the afternoon mail in to Cunningham. She put it +on the desk before him and stood waiting, timidly, afraid to voice her +demand for justice, yet too desperately anxious to leave with it +unspoken. + +He leaned back in his swivel chair, his cold eyes challenging her. +"Well," he barked harshly. + +She was a young, soft creature, very pretty in a kittenish fashion, +both sensuous and helpless. It was an easy guess that unless fortune +stood her friend she was a predestined victim to the world's selfish +love of pleasure, and fortune, with a cynical smile, had stood aside +and let her go her way. + +"I . . . I . . ." A wave of color flooded her face. She twisted a rag +of a handkerchief into a hard wadded knot. + +"Spit it out," he ordered curtly. + +"I've got to do something . . . soon. Won't you--won't you--?" There +was a wail of despair in the unfinished sentence. + +James Cunningham was a grim, gray pirate, as malleable as cast iron and +as soft. He was a large, big-boned man, aggressive, dominant, the kind +that takes the world by the throat and shakes success from it. The +contour of his hook-nosed face had something rapacious written on it. + +"No. Not till I get good and ready. I've told you I'd look out for +you if you'd keep still. Don't come whining at me. I won't have it." + +"But--" + +Already he was ripping letters open and glancing over them. Tears +brimmed the brown eyes of the girl. She bit her lower lip, choked back +a sob, and turned hopelessly away. Her misfortune lay at her own door. +She knew that. But-- The woe in her heart was that the man she had +loved was leaving her to face alone a night as bleak as death. + +Cunningham had always led a life of intelligent selfishness. He had +usually got what he wanted because he was strong enough to take it. No +scrupulous nicety of means had ever deterred him. Nor ever would. He +played his own hand with a cynical disregard of the rights of others. +It was this that had made him what he was, a man who bulked large in +the sight of the city and state. Long ago he had made up his mind that +altruism was weakness. + +He went through his mail with a swift, trained eye. One of the letters +he laid aside and glanced at a second time. It brought a grim, hard +smile to his lips. A paragraph read: + + +There's no water in your ditch and our crops are burning up. Your +whole irrigation system in Dry Valley is a fake. You knew it, but we +didn't. You've skinned us out of all we had, you damned bloodsucker. +If you ever come up here we'll dry-gulch you, sure. + + +The letter was signed, "One You Have Robbed." Attached to it was a +clipping from a small-town paper telling of a meeting of farmers to ask +the United States District Attorney for an investigation of the Dry +Valley irrigation project promoted by James Cunningham. + +The promoter smiled. He was not afraid of the Government. He had kept +strictly within the law. It was not his fault there was not enough +rainfall in the watershed to irrigate the valley. But the threat to +dry-gulch him was another matter. He had no fancy for being shot in +the back. Some crazy fool of a settler might do just that. He decided +to let an agent attend to his Dry Valley affairs hereafter. He +dictated some letters, closed his desk, and went down the street toward +the City Club. At a florist's he stopped and ordered a box of American +Beauties to be sent to Miss Phyllis Harriman. With these he enclosed +his card, a line of greeting scrawled on it. + +A poker game was on at the club and Cunningham sat in. He interrupted +it to dine, holding his seat by leaving a pile of chips at the place. +When he cashed in his winnings and went downstairs it was still early. +As a card-player he was not popular. He was too keen on the main +chance and he nearly always won. In spite of his loud and frequent +laugh, of the effect of bluff geniality, there was no genuine humor in +the man, none of the milk of human kindness. + +A lawyer in the reading-room rose at sight of Cunningham. "Want to see +you a minute," he said. + +"Let's go into the Red Room." + +He led the way to a small room furnished with a desk, writing supplies, +and a telephone. It was for the use of members who wanted to be +private. The lawyer shut the door. + +"Afraid I've bad news for you, Cunningham," he said. + +The other man's steady eyes did not waver. He waited silently. + +"I was at Golden to-day on business connected with a divorce case. By +chance I ran across a record that astonished me. It may be only a +coincidence of names, but--" + +"Now you've wrapped up the blackjack so that it won't hurt, suppose you +go ahead and hit me over the head with it," suggested Cunningham dryly. + +The lawyer told what he knew. The promoter took it with no evidence of +feeling other than that which showed in narrowed eyes hard as diamonds +and a clenched jaw in which the muscles stood out like ropes. + +"Much obliged, Foster," he said, and the lawyer knew he was dismissed. + +Cunningham paced the room for a few moments, then rang for a messenger. +He wrote a note and gave it to the boy to be delivered. Then he left +the club. + +From Seventeenth Street he walked across to the Paradox Apartments +where he lived. He found a note propped up against a book on the table +of his living-room. It had been written by the Japanese servant he +shared with two other bachelors who lived in the same building. + + +Mr. Hull he come see you. He sorry you not here. He say maybe perhaps +make honorable call some other time. + + +It was signed, "S. Horikawa." + +Cunningham tossed the note aside. He had no wish to see Hull. The +fellow was becoming a nuisance. If he had any complaint he could go to +the courts with it. That was what they were for. + +The doorbell rang. The promoter opened to a big, barrel-bodied man who +pushed past him into the room. + +"What you want, Hull?" demanded Cunningham curtly. + +The man thrust his bull neck forward. A heavy roll of fat swelled over +the collar. "You know damn well what I want. I want what's comin' to +me. My share of the Dry Valley clean-up. An' I'm gonna have it. See?" + +"You've had every cent you'll get. I told you that before." + +Tiny red capillaries seamed the beefy face of the fat man. "An' I told +you I was gonna have a divvy. An' I am. You can't throw down Cass +Hull an' get away with it. Not none." The shallow protuberant eyes +glittered threateningly. + +"Thought you knew me better," Cunningham retorted contemptuously. +"When I say I won't, I won't. Go to a lawyer if you think you've got a +case. Don't come belly-aching to me." + +The face of the fat man was apoplectic. "Like sin I'll go to a lawyer. +You'd like that fine, you double-crossin' sidewinder. I'll come with a +six-gun. That's how I'll come. An' soon. I'll give you two days to +come through. Two days. If you don't--hell sure enough will cough." + +Whatever else could be said about Cunningham he was no coward. He met +the raving man eye to eye. + +"I don't scare worth a cent, Hull. Get out. _Pronto_. And don't come +back unless you want me to turn you over to the police for a +blackmailing crook." + +Cunningham was past fifty-five and his hair was streaked with gray. +But he stood straight as an Indian, six feet in his socks. The sap of +strength still rang strong in him. In the days when he had ridden the +range he had been famous for his stamina and he was even yet a +formidable two-fisted fighter. + +But Hull was beyond prudence. "I'll go when I get ready, an' I'll come +back when I get ready," he boasted. + +There came a soft thud of a hard fist on fat flesh, the crash of a +heavy bulk against the door. After that things moved fast. Hull's +body reacted to the pain of smashing blows falling swift and sure. +Before he knew what had taken place he was on the landing outside on +his way to the stairs. He hit the treads hard and rolled on down. + +A man coming upstairs helped him to his feet. + +"What's up?" the man asked. + +Hull glared at him, for the moment speechless. His eyes were venomous, +his mouth a thin, cruel slit. He pushed the newcomer aside, opened the +door of the apartment opposite, went in, and slammed it after him. + +The man who had assisted him to rise was dark and immaculately dressed. + +"I judge Uncle James has been exercising," he murmured before he took +the next flight of stairs. + +On the door of apartment 12 was a legend in Old English engraved on a +calling card. It said: + + + James Cunningham + + +The visitor pushed the electric bell. Cunningham opened to him. + +"Good-evening, Uncle," the younger man said. "Your elevator is not +running, so I walked up. On the way I met a man going down. He seemed +rather in a hurry." + +"A cheap blackmailer trying to bold me up. I threw him out." + +"Thought he looked put out," answered the younger man, smiling +politely. "I see you still believe in applying direct energy to +difficulties." + +"I do. That's why I sent for you." The promoter's cold eyes were +inscrutable. "Come in and shut the door." + +The young man sauntered in. He glanced at his uncle curiously from his +sparkling black eyes. What the devil did James, Senior, mean by what +he had said? Was there any particular significance in it? + +He stroked his small black mustache. "Glad to oblige you any way I +can, sir." + +"Sit down." + +The young Beau Brummel hung up his hat and cane, sank into the easiest +chair in the room, and selected a cigarette from a gold-initialed case. + +"At your service, sir," he said languidly. + + + + +CHAPTER II + +WILD ROSE TAKES THE DUST + +"Wild Rose on Wild Fire," shouted the announcer through a megaphone +trained on the grand stand. + +Kirby Lane, who was leaning against the fence chatting with a friend, +turned round and took notice. Most people did when Wild Rose held the +center of the stage. + +Through the gateway of the enclosure came a girl hardly out of her +teens. She was bareheaded, a cowboy hat in her hand. The sun, already +slanting from the west, kissed her crisp, ruddy gold hair and set it +sparkling. Her skin was shell pink, amber clear. She walked as might +a young Greek goddess in the dawn of the world, with the free movement +of one who loves the open sky and the wind-swept plain. + +A storm of hand-clapping swept the grand stand. Wild Rose acknowledged +it with a happy little laugh. These dear people loved her. She knew +it. And not only because she was a champion. They made over her +because of her slimness, her beauty, the aura of daintiness that +surrounded her, the little touches of shy youth that still clung to her +manner. Other riders of her sex might be rough, hoydenish, or +masculine. Wild Rose had the charm of her name. Yet the muscles that +rippled beneath her velvet skin were hard as nails. No bronco alive +could unseat her without the fight of its life. + +Meanwhile the outlaw horse Wild Fire was claiming its share of +attention. The bronco was a noted bucker. Every year it made the +circuit of the rodeos and only twice had a rider stuck to the saddle +without pulling leather. Now it had been roped and cornered. Half a +dozen wranglers in chaps were trying to get it ready for the saddle. +From the red-hot eyes of the brute a devil of fury glared at the men +trying to thrust a gunny sack over its head. The four legs were wide +apart, the ears cocked, teeth bared. The animal flung itself skyward +and came down on the boot of a puncher savagely. The man gave an +involuntary howl of pain, but he clung to the rope snubbed round the +wicked head. + +The gunny sack was pushed and pulled over the eyes. Wild Fire +subsided, trembling, while bridle was adjusted and saddle slipped on. +The girl attended to the cinching herself. If the saddle turned it +might cost her life, and she preferred to take no unnecessary chances. + +She was dressed in green satin riding clothes. A beaded bolero jacket +fitted over a white silk blouse. Her boots were of buckskin, +silver-spurred. With her hat on, at a distance, one might have taken +her for a slim, beautiful boy. + +Wild Rose swung to the saddle and adjusted her feet in the stirrups. +The gunny sack was whipped from the horse's head. There was a wild +scuffle of escaping wranglers. + +For a moment Wild Fire stood quivering. The girl's hat swept through +the air in front of its eyes. The horse woke to galvanized action. +The back humped. It shot into the air with a writhing twist of the +body. All four feet struck the ground together, straight and stiff as +fence posts. + +The girl's head jerked forward as though it were on a hinge. The +outlaw went sunfishing, its forefeet almost straight up. She was still +in the saddle when it came to all fours again. A series of jarring +bucks, each ending with the force of a pile-driver as Wild Fire's hoofs +struck earth, varied the programme. The rider came down limp, half in +the saddle, half out, righting herself as the horse settled for the +next leap. But not once did her hands reach for the pommel of the +saddle to steady her. + +Pitching and bucking, the animal humped forward to the fence. + +"Look out!" a judge yelled. + +It was too late. The rider could not deflect her mount. Into the +fence went Wild Fire blindly and furiously. The girl threw up her leg +to keep it from being jammed. Up went the bronco again before Wild +Rose could find the stirrup. She knew she was gone, felt herself +shooting forward. She struck the ground close to the horse's hoofs. +Wild Fire lunged at her. A bolt of pain like a red-hot iron seared +through her. + +Through the air a rope whined. It settled over the head of the outlaw +and instantly was jerked tight. Wild Fire, coming down hard for a +second lunge at the green crumpled heap underfoot, was dragged sharply +sideways. Another lariat snaked forward and fell true. + +"Here, Cole!" The first roper thrust the taut line into the hands of a +puncher who had run forward. He himself dived for the still girl +beneath the hoofs of the rearing horse. Catching her by the arms, he +dragged her out of danger. She was unconscious. + +The cowboy picked her up and carried her to the waiting ambulance. The +closed eyes flickered open. A puzzled little frown rested in them. + +"What's up, Kirby?" asked Wild Rose. + +"You had a spill." + +"Took the dust, did I?" He sensed the disappointment in her voice. + +"You rode fine. He jammed you into the fence," explained the young man. + +The doctor examined her. The right arm hung limp. + +"Broken, I'm afraid," he said. + +"Ever see such luck?" the girl complained to Lane. + +"Probably they won't let me ride in the wild-horse race now." + +"No chance, young lady," the doctor said promptly. "I'm going to take +you right to the hospital." + +"I might get back in time," she said hopefully. + +"You might, but you won't." + +"Oh, well," she sighed. "If you're going to act like that." + +The cowboy helped her into the ambulance and found himself a seat. + +"Where do you think you're going?" she asked with a smile a bit twisted +by pain. + +"I reckon I'll go far as the hospital with you." + +"I reckon you won't. What do you think I am--a nice little parlor girl +who has to be petted when she gets hurt? You're on to ride inside of +fifteen minutes--and you know it." + +"Oh, well! I'm lookin' for an alibi so as not to be beaten. That Cole +Sanborn is sure a straight-up rider." + +"So's that Kirby Lane. You needn't think I'm going to let you beat +yourself out of the championship. Not so any one could notice it. Hop +out, sir." + +He rose, smiling ruefully. "You certainly are one bossy kid." + +"I'd say you need bossing when you start to act so foolish," she +retorted, flushing. + +"See you later," he called to her by way of good-bye. + +As the ambulance drove away she waved cheerfully at him a gauntleted +hand. + +The cowpuncher turned back to the arena. The megaphone man was +announcing that the contest for the world's rough-riding championship +would now be resumed. + + + + +CHAPTER III + +FOR THE CHAMPIONSHIP OF THE WORLD + +The less expert riders had been weeded out in the past two days. Only +the champions of their respective sections were still in the running. +One after another these lean, brown men, chap-clad and bow-legged, came +forward dragging their saddles and clamped themselves to the backs of +hurricane outlaws which pitched, bucked, crashed into fences, and +toppled over backward in their frenzied efforts to dislodge the human +clothes-pins fastened to them. + +The bronco busters endured the usual luck of the day. Two were thrown +and picked themselves out of the dust, chagrined and damaged, but still +grinning. One drew a tame horse not to be driven into resistance +either by fanning or scratching. Most of the riders emerged from the +ordeal victorious. Meanwhile the spectators in the big grand stand, +packed close as small apples in a box, watched every rider and snatched +at its thrills just as such crowds have done from the time of Caligula. + +Kirby Lane, from his seat on the fence among a group of cowpunchers, +watched each rider no less closely. It chanced that he came last on +the programme for the day. When Cole Sanborn was in the saddle he made +an audible comment. + +"I'm lookin' at the next champion of the world," he announced. + +"Not onless you've got a lookin'-glass with you, old alkali," a small +berry-brown youth in yellow-wool chaps retorted. + +Sanborn was astride a noted outlaw known as Jazz. The horse was a +sorrel, and it knew all the tricks of its kind. It went sunfishing, +tried weaving and fence-rowing, at last toppled over backward after a +frantic leap upward. The rider, long-bodied and lithe, rode like a +centaur. Except for the moment when he stepped out of the saddle as +the outlaw fell on its back, he stuck to his seat as though he were +glued to it. + +"He's a right limber young fellow, an' he sure can ride. I'll say +that," admitted one old cattleman. + +"They don't grow no better busters," another man spoke up. He was a +neighbor of Sanborn and had his local pride. "From where I come from +we'll put our last nickel on Cole, you betcha. He's top hand with a +rope too." + +"Hmp! Kirby here can make him look like thirty cents, top of a bronc +or with a lariat either one," the yellow-chapped vaquero flung out +bluntly. + +Lane looked at his champion, a trifle annoyed. "What's the use o' +talkin' foolishness, Kent? I never saw the day I had anything on Cole." + +"Beat him at Pendleton, didn't you?" + +"Luck. I drew the best horses." To Sanborn, who had finished his job +and was straddling wide-legged toward the group, Kirby threw up a hand +of greeting. "Good work, old-timer. You're sure hellamile on a bronc." + +"Kirby Lane on Wild Fire," shouted the announcer. + +Lane slid from the fence and reached for his saddle. As he lounged +forward, moving with indolent grace, one might have guessed him a +Southerner. He was lean-loined and broad-shouldered. The long, +flowing muscles rippled under his skin when he moved like those of a +panther. From beneath the band of his pinched-in hat crisp, reddish +hair escaped. + +Wild Fire was off the instant his feet found the stirrups. Again the +outlaw went through its bag of tricks and its straight bucking. The +man in the saddle gave to its every motion lightly and easily. He rode +with such grace that he seemed almost a part of the horse. His +reactions appeared to anticipate the impulses of the screaming fiend +which he was astride. When Wild Fire jolted him with humpbacked +jarring bucks his spine took the shock limply to neutralize the effect. +When it leaped heavenward he waved his hat joyously and rode the +stirrups. From first to last he was master of the situation, and the +outlaw, though still fighting savagely, knew the battle was lost. + +The bronco had one trump card left, a trick that had unseated many a +stubborn rider. It plunged sideways at the fence of the enclosure and +crashed through it. Kirby's nerves shrieked with pain, and for a +moment everything went black before him. His leg had been jammed hard +against the upper plank. But when the haze cleared he was still in the +saddle. + +The outlaw gave up. It trotted tamely back to the grand stand through +the shredded fragments of pine in the splintered fence, and the grand +stand rose to its feet with a shout of applause for the rider. + +Kirby slipped from the saddle and limped back to his fellows on the +fence. Already the crowd was pouring out from every exit of the stand. +A thousand cars of fifty different makes were snorting impatiently to +get out of the jam as soon as possible. For Cheyenne was full, full to +overflowing. The town roared with a high tide of jocund life. From +all over Colorado, Wyoming, Montana, and New Mexico hard-bitten, +sunburned youths in high-heeled boots and gaudy attire had gathered for +the Frontier Day celebration. Hundreds of cars had poured up from +Denver. Trains had disgorged thousands of tourists come to see the +festival. Many people would sleep out in automobiles and on the +prairie. The late comers at restaurants and hotels would wait long and +take second best. + +A big cattleman beckoned to Lane. "Place in my car, son. Run you back +to town." + +One of the judges sat in the tonneau beside the rough rider. + +"How's the leg? Hurt much?" + +"Not much. I'm noticin' it some," Kirby answered with a smile. + +"You'll have to ride to-morrow. It's you and Sanborn for the finals. +We haven't quite made up our minds." + +The cattleman was an expert driver. He wound in and out among the +other cars speeding over the prairie, struck the road before the great +majority of the automobiles had reached there, and was in town with the +vanguard. + +After dinner the rough rider asked the clerk at her hotel if there was +any mail for Miss Rose McLean. Three letters were handed him. He put +them in his pocket and set out for the hospital. + +He found Miss Rose reclining in a hospital chair, in a frame of mind +highly indignant. "That doctor talks as though he's going to keep me +here a week. Well, he's got another guess coming. I'll not stay," she +exploded to her visitor. + +"Now, looky here, you better do as the doc says. He knows best. +What's a week in your young life?" Kirby suggested. + +"A week's a week, and I don't intend to stay. Why did you limp when +you came in? Get hurt?" + +"Not really hurt. Jammed my leg against a fence. I drew Wild Fire." + +"Did you win the championship?" the girl asked eagerly. + +"No. Finals to-morrow. Sanborn an' me. How's the arm? Bone broken?" + +"Yes. Oh, it aches some. Be all right soon." + +He drew her letters from his pocket. "Stopped to get your mail at the +hotel. Thought you'd like to see it." + +Wild Rose looked the envelopes over and tore one open. + +"From my little sister Esther," she explained. "Mind if I read it? +I'm some worried about her. She's been writing kinda funny lately." + +As she read, the color ebbed from her face. When she had finished +reading the letter Kirby spoke gently. + +"Bad news, pardner?" + +She nodded, choking. Her eyes, frank and direct, met those of her +friend without evasion. It was a heritage of her life in the open that +in her relations with men she showed a boylike unconcern of sex. + +"Esther's in trouble. She--she--" Rose caught her breath in a stress +of emotion. + +"If there's anything I can do--" + +The girl flung aside the rug that covered her and rose from the chair. +She began to pace up and down the room. Presently her thoughts +overflowed in words. + +"She doesn't say what it is, but--I know her. She's crazy with +fear--or heartache--or something." Wild Rose was always +quick-tempered, a passionate defender of children and all weak +creatures. Now Lane knew that the hot blood was rushing stormily to +her heart. Her little sister was in danger, the only near relative she +had. She would fight for her as a cougar would for its young. "By +God, if it's a man--if he's done her wrong--I'll shoot him down like a +gray wolf. I'll show him how safe it is to--to--" + +She broke down again, clamping tight her small strong teeth to bite +back a sob. + +He spoke very gently. "Does she say--?" + +His sentence hung suspended in air, but the young woman understood its +significance. + +"No. The letter's just a--a wail of despair. She--talks of suicide. +Kirby, I've got to get to Denver on the next train. Find out when it +leaves. And I'll send a telegram to her to-night telling her I'll fix +it. I will too." + +"Sure. That's the way to talk. Be reasonable an' everything'll work +out fine. Write your wire an' I'll take it right to the office. Soon +as I've got the train schedule I'll come back." + +"You're a good pal, Kirby. I always knew you were." + +For a moment her left hand fell in his. He looked down at the small, +firm, sunbrowned fist. That hand was, as Browning has written, a woman +in itself, but it was a woman competent, unafraid, trained hard as +nails. She would go through with whatever she set out to do. + +As his eyes rested on the fingers there came to him a swift, +unreasoning prescience of impending tragedy. To what dark destiny was +she moving? + + + + +CHAPTER IV + +NOT ALWAYS TWO TO MAKE A QUARREL + +Kirby put Wild Rose on the morning train for Denver. She had escaped +from the doctor by sheer force of will. The night had been a wretched +one, almost sleepless, and she knew that her fever would rise in the +afternoon. But that could not be helped. She had more important +business than her health to attend to just now. + +Ordinarily Rose bloomed with vitality, but this morning she looked +tired and worn. In her eyes there was a hard brilliancy Kirby did not +like to see. He knew from of old the fire that could blaze in her +heart, the insurgent impulses that could sweep her into recklessness. +What would she do if the worst she feared turned out to be true? + +"Good luck," she called through the open window as the train pulled +out. "Beat Cole, Kirby." + +"Good luck to you," he answered. "Write me soon as you find out how +things are." + +But as he walked from the station his heart misgave him. Why had he +let her go alone, knowing as he did how swift she blazed to passion +when wrong was done those she loved? It was easy enough to say that +she had refused to let him go with her, though he had several times +offered. The fact remained that she might need a friend at hand, might +need him the worst way. + +All through breakfast he was ridden by the fear of trouble on her +horizon. Comrades stopped to slap him on the back and wish him good +luck in the finals, and though he made the proper answers it was with +the surface of a mind almost wholly preoccupied with another matter. + +While he was rising from the table he made a decision in the flash of +an eye. He would join Rose in Denver at once. Already dozens of cars +were taking the road. There would be a vacant place in some one of +them. + +He found a party just setting out for Denver and easily made +arrangements to take the unfilled seat in the tonneau. + +By the middle of the afternoon he was at a boarding-house on Cherokee +Street inquiring for Miss Rose McLean. She was out, and the landlady +did not know when she would be back. Probably after her sister got +home from work. + +Lane wandered down to Curtis Street, sat through a part of a movie, +then restlessly took his way up Seventeenth. He had an uncle and two +cousins living in Denver. With the uncle he was on bad terms, and with +his cousins on no terms at all. It had been ten years since he had +seen either James Cunningham, Jr., or his brother Jack. Why not call +on them and renew acquaintance? + +He went into a drug-store and looked the name up in a telephone book. +His cousin James had an office in the Equitable Building. He hung the +book up on the hook and turned to go. As he did so he came face to +face with Rose McLean. + +"You--here!" she cried. + +"Yes, I--I had business in Denver," he explained. + +"Like fun you had! You came because--" She stopped abruptly, struck +by another phase of the situation. "Did you leave Cheyenne without +riding to-day?" + +"I didn't want to ride. I'm fed up on ridin'." + +"You threw away the championship and a thousand-dollar prize to--to--" + +"You're forgettin' Cole Sanborn," he laughed. "No, honest, I came on +business. But since I'm here--say, Rose, where can we have a talk? +Let's go up to the mezzanine gallery at the Albany. It's right next +door." + +He took her into the Albany Hotel. They stepped out of the elevator at +the second floor and he found a settee in a corner where they might be +alone. It struck him that the shadows in her eyes had deepened. She +was, he could see plainly, laboring under a tension of repressed +excitement. The misery of her soul leaped out at him when she looked +his way. + +"Have you anything to tell me?" he asked, and his low, gentle voice was +a comfort to her raw nerves. + +"It's a man, just as I thought--the man she works for." + +"Is he married?" + +"No. Going to be soon, the papers say. He's a wealthy promoter. His +name's Cunningham." + +"What Cunningham?" In his astonishment the words seemed to leap from +him of their own volition. + +"James Cunningham, a big land and mining man. You must have heard of +him." + +"Yes, I've heard of him. Are you sure?" + +She nodded. "Esther won't tell me a thing. She's shielding him. But +I went through her letters and found a note from him. It's signed 'J. +C.' I accused him point-blank to her and she just put her head down on +her arms and sobbed. I know he's the man." + +"What do you mean to do?" + +"I mean to have a talk with him first off. I'll make him do what's +right." + +"How?" + +"I don't know how, but I will," she cried wildly. "If he don't I'll +settle with him. Nothing's too bad for a man like that." + +He shook his head. "Not the best way, Rose. Let's be sure of every +move we make. Let's check up on this man before we lay down the law to +him." + +Some arresting quality in him held her eye. He had sloughed the gay +devil-may-care boyishness of the range and taken on a look of strong +patience new in her experience of him. But she was worn out and +nervous. The pain in her arm throbbed feverishly. Her emotions had +held her on a rack for many hours. There was in her no reserve power +of endurance. + +"No, I'm going to see him and have it out," she flung back. + +"Then let me go with you when you see him. You're sick. You ought to +be in bed right now. You're in no condition to face it alone." + +"Oh, don't baby me, Kirby!" she burst out. "I'm all right. What's it +matter if I am fagged. Don't you see? I'm crazy about Esther. I've +got to get it settled. I can rest afterward." + +"Will it do any harm to take a friend along when you go to see this +man?" + +"Yes. I don't want him to think I'm afraid of him. You're not in +this, Kirby. Esther is my little sister, not yours." + +"True enough." A sardonic, mirthless smile touched his face. "But +James Cunningham is my uncle, not yours." + +"Your uncle?" She rose, staring at him with big, dilated eyes. "He's +your uncle, the man who--who--" + +"Yes, an' I know him better than you do. We've got to use finesse--" + +"I see." Her eyes attacked him scornfully. "You think we'd better not +face him with what he's done. You think we'd better go easy on him. +Uncle's rich, and he might not like plain words. Oh, I understand now." + +Wild Rose flung out a gesture that brushed him from her friendship. +She moved past him blazing with anger. + +He was at the elevator cage almost as soon as she. + +"Listen, Rose. You know better than that. I told you he was my uncle +because you'd find it out if I'm goin' to help you. He's no friend of +mine, but I know him. He's strong. You can't drive him by threats." + +The elevator slid down and stopped. The door of it opened. + +"Will you stand aside, sir?" Rose demanded. "I won't have anything to +do with any of that villain's family. Don't ever speak to me again." + +She stepped into the car. The door clanged shut. Kirby was left +standing alone. + + + + +CHAPTER V + +COUSINS MEET + +With the aid of a tiny looking-glass a young woman was powdering her +nose. Lane interrupted her to ask if he might see Mr. Cunningham. + +"Name, please?" she parroted pertly, and pressed a button in the +switchboard before her. + +Presently she reached for the powder-puff again. "Says to come right +in. Door 't end o' the hall." + +Kirby entered. A man sat at a desk telephoning. He was smooth-shaven +and rather heavy-set, a year or two beyond thirty, with thinning hair +on the top of his head. His eyes in repose were hard and chill. From +the conversation his visitor gathered that he was a captain in the Red +Cross drive that was on. + +As he hung up the receiver the man rose, brisk and smiling, hand +outstretched. "Glad to meet you, Cousin Kirby. When did you reach +town? And how long are you going to stay?" + +"Got in hour an' a half ago. How are you, James?" + +"Busy, but not too busy to meet old friends. Let me see. I haven't +seen you since you were ten years old, have I?" + +"I was about twelve. It was when my father moved to Wyoming." + +"Well, I'm glad to see you. Where you staying? Eat lunch with me +to-morrow, can't you? I'll try to get Jack too." + +"Suits me fine," agreed Kirby. + +"Anything I can do for you in the meantime?" + +"Yes. I want to see Uncle James." + +There was a film of wariness in the eyes of the oil broker as he looked +at the straight, clean-built young cattleman. He knew that the strong +face, brown as Wyoming, expressed a pungent personality back of which +was dynamic force. What did Lane want with his uncle? They had +quarreled. His cousin knew that. Did young Lane expect him to back +his side of the quarrel? Or did he want to win back favor with James +Cunningham, Senior, millionaire? + +Kirby smiled. He guessed what the other was thinking. "I don't want +to interfere in your friendship with him. All I need is his address +and a little information. I've come to have another row with him, I +reckon." + +The interest in Cunningham's eyes quickened. He laughed. "Aren't you +in bad enough already with Uncle? Why another quarrel?" + +"This isn't on my own account. There's a girl in his office--" + +A rap on the door interrupted Kirby. A young man walked into the room. +He was a good-looking young exquisite, dark-eyed and black-haired. His +clothes had been made by one of the best tailors in New York. +Moreover, he knew how to wear them. + +James Cunningham, Junior, introduced him to Kirby as his cousin Jack. +After a few moments of talk the broker reverted to the subject of their +previous talk. + +"Kirby was just telling me that he has come to Denver to meet Uncle +James," he explained to his brother. "Some difficulty with him, I +understand." + +Jack Cunningham's black eyes fastened on his cousin. He waited for +further information. It was plain he was interested. + +"I'm not quite sure of my facts," Lane said. "But there's evidence to +show that he has ruined a young girl in his office. She practically +admits that he's the man. I happen to be a friend of her family, an' +I'm goin' to call him to account. He can't get away with it." + +Kirby chanced to be looking at his cousin Jack. What he saw in that +young man's eyes surprised him. There were astonishment, incredulity, +and finally a cunning narrowing of the black pupils. + +It was James who spoke. His face was grave. "That's a serious charge, +Kirby," he said. "What is the name of the young woman?" + +"I'd rather not give it--except to Uncle James himself." + +"Better write it," suggested Jack with a reminiscent laugh. "He's a +bit impetuous. I saw him throw a man down the stairs yesterday. +Picked the fellow up at the foot of the flight. He certainly looked as +though he'd like to murder our dear uncle." + +"What I'd like to know is this," said Lane. "What sort of a reputation +has Uncle James in this way? Have you ever heard of his bein' in +anything of this sort before?" + +"No, I haven't," James said promptly. + +Jack shrugged. "I wouldn't pick nunky for exactly a moral man," he +said flippantly. "His idea of living is to grab all the easy things he +can." + +"Where can I see him most easily? At his office?" asked Kirby. + +"He drove down to Colorado Springs to-day on business. At least he +told me he was going. Don't know whether he expects to get back +to-night or not. He lives at the Paradox Apartments," Jack said. + +"Prob'ly I'd better see him there rather than at his office." + +"Hope you have a pleasant time with the old boy," Jack murmured. +"Don't think I'd care to be a champion of dames where he's concerned. +He's a damned cantankerous old brute. I'll say that for him." + +James arranged a place of meeting for luncheon next day. The young +cattleman left. He knew from the fidgety manner of Jack that he had +some important business he was anxious to talk over with his brother. + + + + +CHAPTER VI + +LIGHTS OUT + +It was five minutes to ten by his watch when Kirby entered the Paradox +Apartments. The bulletin board told him that his uncle's apartment was +12. He did not take the self-serve elevator, but the stairs. The hall +on the second floor was dark. Since he did not know whether the rooms +he wanted were on this floor or the next he knocked at a door. + +Kirby thought he heard the whisper of voices and he knocked again. He +had to rap a third time before the door was opened. + +"What is it? What do you want?" + +If ever Lane had seen stark, naked fear in a human face, it stared at +him out of that of the woman in front of him. She was a tall, angular +woman of a harsh, forbidding countenance, flat-breasted and +middle-aged. Behind her, farther back in the room, the roughrider +caught a glimpse of a fat, gross, ashen-faced man fleeing toward the +inner door of a bedroom to escape being seen. He was thrusting into +his coat pocket what looked to the man in the hall like a revolver. + +"Can you tell me where James Cunningham's apartment is?" asked Kirby. + +The woman gasped. The hand on the doorknob was trembling violently. +Something clicked in her throat when the dry lips tried to frame an +answer. + +"Head o' the stairs--right hand," she managed to get out, then shut the +door swiftly in the face of the man whose simple question had so +shocked her. + +Kirby heard the latch released from its catch. The key in the lock +below also turned. + +"She's takin' no chances," he murmured. "Now I wonder why both her an' +my fat friend are so darned worried. Who were they lookin' for when +they opened the door an' saw me? An' why did it get her goat when I +asked where Uncle James lived?" + +As he took the treads that brought him to the next landing the +cattleman had an impression of a light being flashed off somewhere. He +turned to the right as the woman below had directed. + +The first door had on the panel a card with his uncle's name. He +knocked, and at the same instant noticed that the door was ajar. No +answer came. His finger found the electric push button. He could hear +it buzzing inside. Twice he pushed it. + +"Nobody at home, looks like," he said to himself. "Well, I reckon I'll +step in an' leave a note. Or maybe I'll wait. If the door's open he's +liable to be right back." + +He stepped into the room. It was dark. His fingers groped along the +wall for the button to throw on the light. Before he found it a sound +startled him. + +It was the soft faint panting of some one breathing. + +He was a man whose nerves were under the best of control, but the cold +feet of mice pattered up and down his spine. Something was wrong. The +sixth sense of danger that comes to some men who live constantly in +peril was warning him. + +"Who's there?" he asked sharply. + +No voice replied, but there was a faint rustle of some one or some +thing stirring. + +He waited, crouched in the darkness. + +There came another vague rustle of movement. And presently another, +this time closer. Every sense in him was alert, keyed up to closest +attention. He knew that some one, for some sinister purpose, had come +into this apartment and been trapped here by him. + +The moments flew. He thought he could hear his hammering heart. A +stifled gasp, a dozen feet from him, was just audible. + +He leaped for the sound. His outflung hand struck an arm and slid down +it, caught at a small wrist, and fastened there. In the fraction of a +second left him he realized, beyond question, that it was a woman he +had assaulted. + +The hand was wrenched from him. There came a zigzag flash of lightning +searing his brain, a crash that filled the world for him--and he +floated into unconsciousness. + + + + +CHAPTER VII + +FOUL PLAY + +Lane came back painfully to a world of darkness. His head throbbed +distressingly. Querulously he wondered where he was and what had taken +place. + +He drew the fingers of his outstretched hand along the nap of a rug and +he knew he was on the floor. Then his mind cleared and he remembered +that a woman's hand had been imprisoned in his just before his brain +stopped functioning. + +Who was she? What was she doing here? And what under heaven had hit +him hard enough to put the lights out so instantly? + +He sat up and held his throbbing head. He had been struck on the point +of the chin and gone down like an axed bullock. The woman must have +lashed out at him with some weapon. + +In his pocket he found a match. It flared up and lit a small space in +the pit of blackness. Unsteadily he got to his feet and moved toward +the door. His mind was quite clear now and his senses abnormally +sensitive. For instance, he was aware of a faint perfume of violet in +the room, so faint that he had not noticed it before. + +There grew on him a horror, an eagerness to be gone from the rooms. It +was based on no reasoning, but on some obscure feeling that there had +taken place something evil, something that chilled his blood. + +Yet he did not go. He had come for a purpose, and it was +characteristic of him that he stayed in spite of the dread that grew on +him till it filled his breast. Again he groped along the wall for the +light switch. A second match flared in his fingers and showed it to +him. Light flooded the room. + +His first sensation was of relief. This handsome apartment with its +Persian rugs, its padded easy-chairs, its harmonious wall tints, had a +note of repose quite alien to tragedy. It was the home of a man who +had given a good deal of attention to making himself comfortable. +Indefinably, it was a man's room. The presiding genius of it was +masculine and not feminine. It lacked the touches of adornment that +only a woman can give to make a place homelike. + +Yet one adornment caught Kirby's eye at once. It was a large +photograph in a handsome frame on the table. The picture showed the +head and bust of a beautiful woman in evening dress. She was a +brunette, young and very attractive. The line of head, throat, and +shoulder was perfect. The delicate, disdainful poise and the gay +provocation in the dark, slanting eyes were enough to tell that she was +no novice in the game of sex. He judged her an expensive orchid +produced in the civilization of our twentieth-century hothouse. Across +the bottom of the picture was scrawled an inscription in a fashionably +angular hand. Lane moved closer to read it. The words were, "Always, +Phyllis." Probably this was the young woman to whom, if rumor were +true, James Cunningham, Senior, was engaged. + +On the floor, near where Kirby had been lying, lay a heavy piece of +agate evidently used for a paperweight. He picked up the smooth stone +and guessed instantly that this was the weapon which had established +contact with his chin. Very likely the woman's hand had closed on it +when she heard him coming. She had switched off the light and waited +for him. That the blow had found a vulnerable mark and knocked him out +had been sheer luck. + +Kirby passed into a luxurious bedroom beyond which was a tiled +bathroom. He glanced these over and returned to the outer apartment. +There was still another door. It was closed. As the man from Wyoming +moved toward it he felt once more a strange sensation of dread. It was +strong enough to stop him in his stride. What was he going to find +behind that door? When he laid his hand on the knob pinpricks played +over his scalp and galloped down his spine. + +He opened the door. A sweet sickish odor, pungent but not heavy, +greeted his nostrils. It was a familiar smell, one he had met only +recently. Where? His memory jumped to a corridor of the Cheyenne +hospital. He had been passing the operating-room on his way to see +Wild Rose. The door had opened and there had been wafted to him +faintly the penetrating whiff of chloroform. It was the same drug he +sniffed now. + +He stood on the threshold, groped for the switch, and flashed on the +lights. Sound though Kirby Lane's nerves were, he could not repress a +gasp at what he saw. + +Leaning back in an armchair, looking up at him with a horrible sardonic +grin, was his uncle James Cunningham. His wrists were tied with ropes +to the arms of the chair. A towel, passed round his throat, fastened +the body to the back of the chair and propped up the head. A bloody +clot of hair hung tangled just above the temple. The man was dead +beyond any possibility of doubt. There was a small hole in the center +of the forehead through which a bullet had crashed. Beneath this was a +thin trickle of blood that had run into the heavy eyebrows. + +The dead man was wearing a plaid smoking-jacket and oxblood slippers. +On the tabouret close to his hand lay a half-smoked cigar. There was a +grewsome suggestion in the tilt of the head and the gargoyle grin that +this was a hideous and shocking jest he was playing on the world. + +Kirby snatched his eyes from the grim spectacle and looked round the +room. It was evidently a private den to which the owner of the +apartment retired. There were facilities for smoking and for drinking, +a lounge which showed marks of wear, and a writing-desk in one corner. + +This desk held the young man's gaze. It was open. Papers lay +scattered everywhere and its contents had been rifled and flung on the +floor. Some one, in a desperate hurry, had searched every pigeon-hole. + +The window of the room was open. Perhaps it had been thrown up to let +out the fumes of the chloroform. Kirby stepped to it and looked down. +The fire escape ran past it to the stories above and below. + +The young cattleman had seen more than once the tragedies of the range. +He had heard the bark of guns and had looked down on quiet dead men but +a minute before full of lusty life. But these had been victims of +warfare in the open, usually of sudden passions that had flared and +struck. This was different. It was murder, deliberate, cold-blooded, +atrocious. The man had been tied up, made helpless, and done to death +without mercy. There was a note of the abnormal, of the unhuman, about +the affair. Whoever had killed James Cunningham deserved the extreme +penalty of the law. + +He was a man who no doubt had made many enemies. Always he had +demanded his pound of flesh and got it. Some one had waited patiently +for his hour and exacted a fearful vengeance for whatever wrong he had +suffered. + +Kirby decided that he must call the police at once. No time ought to +be lost in starting to run down the murderer. He stepped into the +living-room to the telephone, lifted the receiver from the hook, +and--stood staring down at a glove lying on the table. + +As he looked at it the blood washed out of his face. He had a +sensation as though his heart had been plunged into cracked ice. For +he recognized the glove on the table, knew who its owner was. + +It was a small riding-gauntlet with a device of a rose embroidered on +the wrist. He would have known that glove among a thousand. + +He had seen it, a few hours since, on the hand of Wild Rose. + + + + +CHAPTER VIII + +BY MEANS OF THE FIRE ESCAPE + +Kirby Lane stood with fascinated eyes looking down at the glove, +muscles and brain alike paralyzed. The receiver was in his hand, close +to his ear. + +A voice from the other end of the wire drifted to him. "Number, +please." + +Automatically he hung the receiver on the hook. Dazed though he was, +the rough rider knew that the police were the last people in the world +he wanted to see just now. + +All his life he had lived the adventure of the outdoors. For twelve +months he had served at the front, part of the time with the forces in +the Argonne. He had ridden stampedes and fought through blizzards. He +had tamed the worst outlaw horses the West could produce. But he had +never been so shock-shaken as he was now. A fact impossibly but +dreadfully true confronted him. Wild Rose had been alone with his +uncle in these rooms, had listened with breathless horror while Kirby +climbed the stairs, had been trapped by his arrival, and had fought +like a wolf to make her escape. He remembered the wild cry of her +outraged heart, "Nothing's too bad for a man like that." + +Lane was sick with fear. It ran through him and sapped his supple +strength like an illness. It was not possible that Rose could have +done this in her right mind. But he had heard a doctor say once that +under stress of great emotion people sometimes went momentarily insane. +His friend had been greatly wrought up from anxiety, pain, fever, and +lack of sleep. + +In replacing the telephone he had accidentally pushed aside a book. +Beneath it was a slip of paper on which had been penciled a note. He +read it, without any interest. + + +Mr. Hull he come see you. He sorry you not here. He say maybe perhaps +make honorable call some other time. + +S. HORIKAWA + + +An electric bell buzzed through the apartment. The sound of it +startled Kirby as though it had been the warning of a rattlesnake close +to his head. Some one was at the outer door ringing for admission. It +would never do for him to be caught here. + +He had been trained to swift thought reactions. Quickly but +noiselessly he stepped to the door and released the catch of the Yale +lock so that it would not open from the outside without a key. He +switched off the light and passed through the living-room into the +bedchamber. His whole desire now was to be gone from the building as +soon as possible. The bedroom also he darkened before he stepped to +the window and crept through it to the platform of the fire escape. + +The glove was still in his hand. He thrust it into his pocket as he +began the descent. The iron ladder ran down the building to the alley. +It ended ten feet above the ground. Kirby lowered himself and dropped. +He turned to the right down the alley toward Glenarm Street. + +A man was standing at the comer of the alley trying to light a cigar. +He was a reporter on the "Times," just returning from the Press Club +where he had been playing in a pool tournament. + +He stopped Lane. "Can you lend me a match, friend?" + +The cattleman handed him three or four and started to go. + +"Just a mo'," the newspaper-man said, striking a light. "Do you +always"--puff, puff--"leave your rooms"--puff, puff, puff--"by the fire +escape?" + +Kirby looked at him in silence, thinking furiously. He had been +caught, after all. There were witnesses to prove he had gone up to his +uncle's rooms. Here was another to testify he had left by the fire +escape. The best he could say was that he was very unlucky. + +"Never mind, friend," the newspaper-man went On. "You don't look like +a second-story worker to yours truly." He broke into a little amused +chuckle. "I reckon friend husband, who never comes home till Saturday +night, happened around unexpectedly and the fire escape looked good to +you. Am I right?" + +The Wyoming man managed a grin. It was not a mirthful one, but it +served. + +"You're a wizard," he said admiringly. + +The reporter had met a bootlegger earlier in the evening and had two or +three drinks. He was mellow. "Oh, I'm wise," he said with a wink. +"Chuck Ellis isn't anybody's fool. Beat it, Lothario, while the +beating's good." The last sentence and the gesture that accompanied +the words were humorous exaggerations of old-time melodrama. + +Lane took his advice without delay. + + + + +CHAPTER IX + +THE STORY IN THE "NEWS" + +From a booth in a drug-store on Sixteenth Street Kirby telephoned the +police that James Cunningham had been murdered at his home in the +Paradox Apartments. He stayed to answer no questions, but hung up at +once. From a side door of the store he stepped out to Welton Street +and walked to his hotel. + +He passed a wretched night. The distress that flooded his mind was due +less to his own danger than to his anxiety for Rose. His course of +action was not at all clear to him in case he should be identified as +the man who had been seen going to and coming from the apartment of the +murdered man. He could not explain why he was there without +implicating Rose and her sister. He would not betray them. That of +course. But he had told his cousins why he was going. Would their +story not start a hunt for the woman in the case? + +Man is an illogical biped. Before Kirby had seen the glove on the +table and associated it with the crime, his feeling had been that the +gallows was the proper end of so cruel a murderer. Now he not only +intended to protect Rose, but his heart was filled with pity for her. +He understood her better than he did any other woman, her loyalty and +love and swift, upblazing anger. Even if her hand had fired the shot, +he told himself, it was not Wild Rose who had done it--not the little +friend he had come to know and like so well, but a tortured woman +beside herself with grief for the sister to whom she had always been a +mother too. + +He slept little, and that brokenly. With the dawn he was out on the +street to buy a copy of the "News." The story of the murder had the +two columns on the right-hand side of the front page and broke over to +the third. He hurried back to his room to read it behind a locked door. + +The story was of a kind in which newspapers revel. Cunningham was a +well-known character, several times a millionaire. His death even by +illness would have been worth a column. But the horrible and grewsome +way of his taking off, the mystery surrounding it, the absence of any +apparent motive unless it were revenge, all whetted the appetite of the +editors. It was a big "story," one that would run for many days, and +the "News" played it strong. + +As Kirby had expected, he was selected as the probable assassin. A +reporter had interviewed Mr. and Mrs. Cass Hull, who occupied the +apartment just below that of the murdered man. They had told him that +a young man, a stranger to them, powerfully built and dressed like a +prosperous ranchman, had knocked on their door about 9.20 to ask the +way to the apartment of Cunningham. Hull explained that he remembered +the time particularly because he happened to be winding the clock at +the moment. + +A description of Lane was given in a two-column "box." He read it with +no amusement. It was too deadly accurate for comfort. + + +The supposed assassin of James Cunningham is described by Mrs. Cass +Hull as dressed in a pepper-and-salt suit and a white, pinched-in +cattleman's hat. He is about six feet tall, between 25 and 30 years +old, weighing about 200 or perhaps 210 pounds. His hair is a light +brown and his face tanned from the sun. + + +His age and his weight were overstated, and his clothes were almost a +khaki brown. Otherwise Mrs. Hull had given a very close description of +him, considering her state of mind at the moment when she had seen him. + +There was one sentence of the story he read over two or three times. +Hull and his wife agreed that it was about 9.20 when he had knocked on +their door, unless it was a printer's error or the reporter had made a +mistake. Kirby knew this was wrong. He had looked at his watch just +before he had entered the Paradox Apartment. He had stopped directly +under a street globe, and the time was 9.55. + +Had the Hulls deliberately shifted the time back thirty-five minutes? +If so, why? He remembered how stark terror had stared out of both +their faces. Did they know more about the murder than they pretended? +When he had mentioned his uncle's name the woman had been close to +collapse, though, of course, he could not be sure that had been the +reason. To his mind there flashed the memory of the note he had seen +on the table. The man had called on Cunningham and left word he might +call again. Was it possible the Hulls had just come down from the +apartment above when he had knocked on their door? If so, how did the +presence of Rose fit into the schedule? + +Lane pounced on the fear and the evasion of the Hulls as an out for +Wild Rose. It was only a morsel of hope, but he made the most of it. + +The newspaper was inclined to bring up stage the mysterious man who had +called up the police at 10.25 to tell them that Cunningham had been +murdered in his rooms. Who was this man? Could he be the murderer? +If so, why should he telephone the police and start immediately the +hunt after him? If not the killer, how did he know that a crime had +been committed less than an hour before? + +As soon as he had eaten breakfast, Kirby walked round to the +boarding-house on Cherokee Street where Wild Rose was staying with her +sister. Rose was out, he learned from the landlady. He asked if he +might see her sister. His anxiety was so great he could not leave +without a word of her. + +Presently Esther came down to the parlor where the young man waited for +her. Lane introduced himself as a friend of Rose. He was worried +about her, he said. She seemed to him in a highly wrought-up, nervous +state. He wondered if it would not be well to get her out of Denver. + +Esther swallowed a lump in her throat. She had never seen Rose so +jumpy, she agreed. Last night she had gone out for an hour alone. The +look in her eyes when she had come back had frightened Esther. She had +gone at once to her bedroom and locked the door, but her sister had +heard her moving about for hours. + +Then, suddenly, Esther's throat swelled and she began to sob. She knew +well enough that she was at the bottom of Wild Rose's worries. + +"Where is she now?" asked Kirby gently. + +"I don't know. She didn't tell me where she was going. +There's--there's something queer about her. I--I'm afraid." + +"What are you afraid of?" + +"She's so--so kinda fierce," Esther wailed. + +It was impossible to explain, even to this big brown friend of Rose who +looked as though his quiet strength could move mountains. He was a +man. Besides, every instinct in her drove to keep hidden the secret +that some day would tell itself. + +Her eyes fell. They rested on the "News" some boarder had tossed on +the table beside which she stood. Her thoughts were of herself and the +plight in which she had become involved. She looked at the big +headlines of the paper and for the moment did not see them. What she +did see was disgrace, the shipwreck of the young life she loved so much. + +Her pupils dilated. The words of the headline penetrated to the brain. +A hand clutched at her heart. She read again hazily-- + + JAMES CUNNINGHAM MURDERED + +--then collapsed fainting into a chair. + + + + +CHAPTER X + +KIRBY ASKS A DIRECT QUESTION + +The story of the Cunningham mystery, as it was already being called, +filled the early editions of the afternoon papers. The "Times" had the +scoop of the day. It was a story signed by Chuck Ellis, who had seen +the alleged murderer climb down by a fire escape from the window of +Cunningham's bedroom and had actually talked with the man as he emerged +from the alley. His description of the suspect tallied fairly closely +with that of Mrs. Hull, but it corrected errors in regard to weight, +age, and color of clothes. + +As Kirby walked to the Equitable Building to keep his appointment with +his cousins, it would not have surprised him if at any moment an +officer had touched him on the shoulder and told him he was under +arrest. + +Entering the office of the oil broker, where the two brothers were +waiting for him, Kirby had a sense of an interrupted conversation. +They had been talking about him, he guessed. The atmosphere was +electric. + +James spoke quickly, to bridge any embarrassment. "This is a dreadful +thing about Uncle James. I've never been so shocked before in my life. +The crime was absolutely fiendish." + +Kirby nodded. "Or else the deed of some insane person. Men in their +right senses don't do such things." + +"No," agreed James. "Murder's one thing. Such coldblooded deviltry is +quite another. There may be insanity connected with it. But one thing +is sure. I'll not rest till the villain's run to earth and punished." + +His eyes met those of his cousin. They were cold and bleak. + +"Do you think I did it?" asked Kirby quietly. + +The directness of the question took James aback. After the fraction of +a second's hesitation he spoke. "If I did I wouldn't be going to lunch +with you." + +Jack cut in. Excitement had banished his usual almost insolent +indolence. His dark eyes burned with a consuming fire. "Let's put our +cards on the table. We think you're the man the police are looking +for--the one described in the papers." + +"What makes you think that?" + +"You told us you were going to see him as soon as he got back from the +Springs. The description fits you to a T. You can't get away with an +alibi so far as I'm concerned." + +"All right," said the rough rider, his low, even voice unruffled by +excitement. "If I can't, I can't. We'll say I'm the man who came down +the fire escape. What then?" + +James was watching his cousin steadily. The pupils of his eyes +narrowed. He took the answer out of his brother's mouth. "Then we +think you probably know something about this mystery that you'll want +to tell us. You must have been on the spot very soon after the +murderer escaped. Perhaps you saw him." + +Kirby told the story of his night's adventure, omitting any reference +whatever to Wild Rose or to anybody else in the apartment when he +entered. + +After he had finished, James made his comment. "You've been very +frank, Kirby. I accept your story. A guilty man would have denied +being in the apartment, or he would have left town and disappeared." + +The range rider smiled sardonically. "I'm not so sure of that. You've +got the goods on me. I can't deny I'm the man the police are lookin' +for. Mrs. Hull would identify me. So would this reporter Ellis. All +you would have to do would be to hand my name to the nearest officer. +An' I can't run away without confessin' guilt. Even if I had killed +Uncle James, I couldn't do much else except tell some story like the +one I've told you." + +"It wouldn't go far in a court-room," Jack said. + +"Not far," admitted Kirby. "By the way, you haven't expressed an +opinion, Jack. Do you think I shot Uncle James?" + +Jack looked at him, almost sullenly, and looked away. He poked at the +corner of the desk with the ferrule of his cane. "I don't know who +shot him. You had quarreled with him, and you went to have another row +with him. A cop told me that some one who knew how to tie ropes +fastened the knots around his arms and throat. You beat it from the +room by the fire escape. A jury would hang you high as Haman on that +evidence. Damn it, there's a bad bruise on your chin wasn't there when +we saw you yesterday. For all I know he may have done it before you +put him out." + +"I struck against a corner in the darkness," Kirby said. + +"That's what _you_ say. You've got to explain it somehow. I think +your story's fishy, if you ask me." + +"Then you'd better call up the police," suggested Lane. + +"I didn't say I was going to call the cops," retorted Jack sulkily. + +James looked at his cousin. Kirby Lane was strong. You could not deny +his strength, audacious yet patient. He was a forty-horsepower man +with the smile of a boy. Moreover, his face was a certificate of +manhood. It was a recommendation more effective than words. + +"I think you're wrong, Jack," the older brother said. "Kirby had no +more to do with this than I had." + +"Thanks," Kirby nodded. + +"Let's investigate this man Hull. What Kirby says fits in with what +you saw a couple of evenings ago, Jack. I'm assuming he's the same man +Uncle flung downstairs. Uncle told you he was a black-mailer. +_There's_ one lead. Let's follow it." + +Reluctantly Kirby broached one angle of the subject that must be faced. +"What about this girl in Uncle's office--the one in trouble? Are we +goin' to bring her into this?" + +There was a moment's silence. Jack's black eyes slid from Lane to his +brother. It struck Kirby that he was waiting tensely for the decision +of James, though the reason for his anxiety was not apparent. + +James gave the matter consideration, then spoke judicially. "Better +leave her out of it. No need to smirch Uncle's reputation unless it's +absolutely necessary. We don't want the newspapers gloating over any +more scandals than they need." + +The cattleman breathed freer. He had an odd feeling that Jack, too, +was relieved. Had the young man, after all, a warmer feeling for his +dead uncle's reputation than he had given him credit for? + +As the three cousins stepped out of the Equitable Building to Stout +Street a newsboy was calling an extra. + +"A-l-l 'bout Cunn'n'ham myst'ry. Huxtry! Huxtry!" + +Kirby bought a paper. A streamer headline in red flashed at him. + + HORIKAWA; VALET OF CUNNINGHAM, DISAPPEARS + + +The lead of the story below was to the effect that Cunningham had drawn +two thousand dollars in large bills from the bank the day of his death. +Horikawa could not be found, and the police had a theory that he had +killed and robbed his master for this money. + + + + +CHAPTER XI + +THE CORONER'S INQUEST + +If Kirby had been playing his own hand only he would have gone to the +police and told them he was the man who had been seen leaving the +Paradox Apartments by the fire escape. But he could not do this +without running the risk of implicating Wild Rose. Awkward questions +would be fired at him that he could not answer. He decided not to run +away from arrest, but not to surrender himself. If the police rounded +him up, he could not help it; if they did not, so much the better. + +He made two more attempts to see Wild Rose during the day, but he could +not find her at home. When he at last did see her it was at the +inquest, where he had gone to learn all that he could of the +circumstances surrounding the murder. + +There was a risk in attending. He recognized that. But he was moved +by an imperative urge to find out all that was possible of the affair. +The force that drove him was the need in his heart to exonerate his +friend. Though he recognized the weight of evidence against her, he +could not believe her guilty. Under tremendous provocation it might be +in character for her to have shot his uncle in self-defense or while in +extreme anger. But all his knowledge of her cried out that she could +never have chloroformed him, tied him up, then taken his life while he +was helpless. She was too fine and loyal to her code, too good a +sportsman, far too tender-hearted, for such a thing. + +Yet the evidence assaulted this conviction of his soul. If the Wild +Rose in the dingy court-room had been his friend of the outdoor spaces, +he would have rejected as absurd the possibility that she had killed +his uncle. But his heart sank when he looked at this wan-faced woman +who came late and slipped inconspicuously into a back seat, whose eyes +avoided his, who was so plainly keyed up to a tremendously high pitch. +She was dressed in a dark-blue tailored serge and a black sailor hat, +beneath the rim of which the shadows on her face were dark. + +The room was jammed with people. Every aisle was packed and hundreds +were turned away. In the audience was a scattering of fashionably +dressed women, for it was possible the inquest might develop a +sensation. + +The coroner was a short, fat, little man with a highly developed sense +of his importance. It was his hour, and he made the most of it. His +methods were his own. The young assistant district attorney lounging +by the table played second fiddle. + +The first witnesses developed the movements of Cunningham during the +evening of the twenty-third. He had dined at the City Club, and had +left there after dinner to go to his apartment. To a club member +dining with him he had mentioned an appointment at his rooms with a +lady. + +A rustling wave of excitement swept the benches. Those who had come to +seek sensations had found their first thrill. Kirby drew in his breath +sharply. He leaned forward, not to miss a word. + +"Did he mention the name of the lady, Mr. Blanton?" asked the coroner, +washing the backs of his hands with the palms. + +"No." + +"Or his business with her?" + +"No. But he seemed to be annoyed." Mr. Blanton also seemed to be +annoyed. He had considered not mentioning this appointment, but his +conscience would not let him hide it. None the less he resented the +need of giving the public more scandal about a fellow club member who +was dead. He added an explanation. "My feeling was that it was some +business matter being forced on him. He had been at Colorado Springs +during the day and probably had been unable to see the lady earlier." + +"Did he say so?" + +"No-o, not exactly." + +"What did he say to give you that impression?" + +"I don't recall his words." + +"Or the substance of them?" + +"No. I had the impression, very strongly." + +The coroner reproved him tartly. "Please confine your testimony to +facts and not to impressions, Mr. Blanton. Do you know at what time +Mr. Cunningham left the City Club?" + +"At 8.45." + +"Precisely?" + +"Precisely." + +"That will do." + +Exit Mr. Blanton from the chair and from the room, very promptly and +very eagerly. + +He was followed by a teller at the Rocky Mountain National Bank. He +testified to only two facts--that he knew Cunningham and that the +promoter had drawn two thousand dollars in bills on the day of his +death. + +A tenant at the Paradox Apartments was next called to the stand. The +assistant district attorney examined him. He brought out only one fact +of importance--that he had seen Cunningham enter the building at a few +minutes before nine o'clock. + +The medical witnesses were introduced next. The police surgeon had +reached the apartment at 10.30. The deceased had come to his death, in +his judgment, from the effect of a bullet out of a .38 caliber revolver +fired into his brain. He had been struck a blow on the head by some +heavy instrument, but this in itself would probably not have proved +fatal. + +"How long do you think he had been dead when you first saw him?" + +"Less than an hour." Answering questions, the police surgeon gave the +technical medical reasons upon which he based this opinion. He +described the wound. + +The coroner washed the backs of his hands with his palms. Observing +reporters noticed that he did this whenever he intended taking the +examination into his own hands. + +"Did anything peculiar about the wound impress you?" he asked. + +"Yes. The forehead of the deceased was powder-marked." + +"Showing that the weapon had been fired close to him?" + +"Yes." + +"Anything else?" + +"One thing. The bullet slanted into the head toward the right." + +"Where was the chair in which the deceased was seated? I mean in what +part of the room." + +"Pushed close to the left-hand wall and parallel to it." + +"Very close?" + +"Touching it." + +"Under the circumstances could the revolver have been fired so that the +bullet could have taken the course it did if held in the right hand?" + +"Hardly. Not unless it was held with extreme awkwardness." + +"In your judgment, then, the revolver was fired by a left-handed +person?" + +"That is my opinion." + +The coroner swelled like a turkey cock as he waved the attorney to take +charge again. + +Lane's heart drummed fast. He did not look across the room toward the +girl in the blue tailored suit. But he saw her, just as clearly as +though his eyes had been fastened on her. The detail that stood out in +his imagination was the right arm set in splints and resting in a linen +sling suspended from the neck. + +_Temporarily Rose McLean was left-handed_. + +"Was it possible that the deceased could have shot himself?" + +"Do you mean, is it possible that somebody could have tied him to the +chair after he was dead?" + +"Yes." + +The surgeon, taken by surprise, hesitated. "That's possible, +certainly." + +James Cunningham took the witness chair after the police officers who +had arrived at the scene of the tragedy with the surgeon had finished +their testimony. One point brought out by the officers was that in the +search of the rooms the two thousand dollars was not found. The oil +broker gave information as to his uncle's affairs. + +"You knew your uncle well?" the lawyer asked presently. + +"Intimately." + +"And were on good terms with him?" + +"The best." + +"Had he ever suggested to you that he might commit suicide?" + +"Never," answered the oil broker with emphasis. "He was the last man +in the world one would have associated with such a thought." + +"Did he own a revolver?" + +"No, not to my knowledge. He had an automatic." + +"What caliber was it?" + +"I'm not quite sure--about a .38, I think." + +"When did you see it last?" + +"I don't recollect." + +The prosecuting attorney glanced at his notes. + +"You are his next of kin?" + +"My brother and I are his nephews. He had no nearer relatives." + +"You are his only nephews--his only near relatives?" + +Cunningham hesitated, for just the blinking of an eye. He did not want +to bring Kirby into his testimony if he could help it. That might +ultimately lead to his arrest. + +"He had one other nephew." + +"Living in Denver?" + +"No." + +"Where?" + +"Somewhere in Wyoming, I think. We do not correspond." + +"Do you know if he is there now?" + +The witness dodged. "He lives there, I think." + +"Do you happen to know where he is at the present moment?" + +"Yes." The monosyllable fell reluctantly. + +"Where?" + +"In Denver." + +"Not in this court-room?" + +"Yes." + +"What is the gentleman's name, Mr. Cunningham?" + +"Kirby Lane." + +"Will you point him out?" + +James did so. + +The lawyer faced the crowded benches. "I'll ask Mr. Lane to step +forward and take a seat near the front. I may want to ask him a few +questions later." + +Kirby rose and came forward. + +"To your knowledge, Mr. Cunningham, had your uncle any enemies?" asked +the attorney, continuing his examination. + +"He was a man of positive opinions. Necessarily there were people who +did not like him." + +"Active enemies?" + +"In a business sense, yes." + +"But not in a personal sense?" + +"I do not know of any. He may have had them. In going through his +desk at the office I found a letter. Here it is." + +The fat little coroner bustled forward, took the letter, and read it. +He handed it to one of the jury. It was read and passed around. The +letter was the one the promoter had received from the Dry Valley +rancher threatening his life if he ever appeared again in that part of +the country. + +"I notice that the letter is postmarked Denver," Cunningham suggested. +"Whoever mailed it must have been in the city at the time." + +"That's very important," the prosecuting attorney said. "Have you +communicated the information to the police?" + +"Yes." + +"You do not know who wrote the letter?" + +"I do not." + +The coroner put the tips of his fingers and thumbs together and +balanced on the balls of his feet. "Do you happen to know the name of +the lady with whom your uncle had an appointment on the night of his +death at his rooms?" + +"No," answered the witness curtly. + +"When was the last time you saw the deceased alive?" + +"About three o'clock on the day before that of his death." + +"Anything occur at that time throwing any light on what subsequently +occurred?" + +"Nothing whatever." + +"Very good, Mr. Cunningham. You may be excused, if Mr. Johns is +through with you, unless some member of the jury has a question he +would like to ask." + +One of the jury had. He was a dried-out wisp of a man wrinkled like a +winter pippin. "Was your uncle engaged to be married at the time of +his death?" he piped. + +There was a mild sensation in the room. Curious eyes swept toward the +graceful, slender form of a veiled woman sitting at the extreme left of +the room. + +Cunningham flushed. The question seemed to him a gratuitous probe into +the private affairs of the family. "I do not care to discuss that," he +answered quietly. + +"The witness may refuse to answer questions if he wishes," the coroner +ruled. + +Jack Cunningham was called to the stand. James had made an excellent +witness. He was quiet, dignified, and yet forceful. Jack, on the +other hand, was nervous and irritable. The first new point he +developed was that on his last visit to the rooms of his uncle he had +seen him throw downstairs a fat man with whom he had been scuffling. +Shown Hull, he identified him as the man. + +"Had you ever had any trouble with your uncle?" Johns asked him. + +"You may decline to answer if you wish," the coroner told the witness. + +Young Cunningham hesitated. "No-o. What do you mean by trouble?" + +"Had he ever threatened to cut you out of his will?" + +"Yes," came the answer, a bit sulkily. + +"Why--if you care to tell?" + +"He thought I was extravagant and wild--wanted me to buckle down to +business more." + +"What is your business?" + +"I'm with a bond house--McCabe, Foster & Clinton." + +"During the past few months have you had any difference of opinion with +your uncle?" + +"That's my business," flared the witness. Then, just as swiftly as his +irritation had come it vanished. He remembered that his uncle's +passionate voice had risen high. No doubt people in the next +apartments had heard him. It would be better to make a frank +admission. "But I don't mind answering. I have." + +"When?" + +"The last time I went to his rooms--two days before his death." + +Significant looks passed from one to another of the spectators. + +"What was the subject of the quarrel?" + +"I didn't say we had quarreled," was the sullen answer. + +"Differed, then. My question was, what about?" + +"I decline to say." + +"I think that is all, Mr. Cunningham." + +The wrinkled little juryman leaned forward and piped his question +again. "Was your uncle engaged to be married at the time of his death?" + +The startled eyes of Jack Cunningham leaped to the little man. There +was in them dismay, almost panic. Then, swiftly, he recovered and +drawled insolently, "I try to mind my own business. Do you?" + +The coroner asserted himself. "Here, here, none of that! Order in +this court, _if_ you please, gentlemen." He bustled in his manner, +turning to the attorney. "Through with Mr. Cunningham, Johns? If so, +we'll push on." + +"Quite." The prosecuting attorney consulted a list in front of him. +"Cass Hull next." + +Hull came puffing to the stand. He was a porpoise of a man. His eyes +dodged about the room in dread. It was as though he were looking for a +way of escape. + + + + +CHAPTER XII + +"THAT'S THE MAN" + +"Your name?" + +"Cass Hull." + +"Business?" + +"Real estate, mostly farm lands." + +"Did you know James Cunningham, the deceased?" asked Johns. + +"Yes. Worked with him on the Dry Valley proposition, an irrigation +project." + +"Ever have any trouble with him?" + +"No, sir--not to say trouble." Hull was already perspiring profusely. +He dragged a red bandanna from his pocket and mopped the roll of fat +that swelled over his collar. "I--we had a--an argument about a +settlement--nothin' serious." + +"Did he throw you out of his room and down the stairs?" + +"No, sir, nothin' like that a-tall. We might 'a' scuffled some, kinda +in fun like. Prob'ly it looked like we was fightin', but we wasn't. +My heel caught on a tread o' the stairs an' I fell down." Hull made +his explanation eagerly and anxiously, dabbing at his beefy face with +the handkerchief. + +"When did you last see Mr. Cunningham alive?" + +"Well, sir, that was the last time, though I reckon we heard him pass +our door." + +In answer to questions the witness explained that Cunningham had owed +him, in his opinion, four thousand dollars more than he had paid. It +was about this sum they had differed. + +"Were you at home on the evening of the twenty-third--that is, last +night?" + +The witness flung out more signals of distress. "Yes, sir," he said at +last in a voice dry as a whisper. + +"Will you tell what, if anything, occurred?" + +"Well, sir, a man knocked at our door. The woman she opened it, an' he +asked which flat was Cunningham's. She told him, an' the man he +started up the stairs." + +"Have you seen the man since?" + +"No, sir." + +"Didn't hear him come downstairs later?" + +"No, sir." + +"At what time did this man knock?" asked the lawyer from the district +attorney's office. + +Kirby Lane did not move a muscle of his body, but excitement grew in +him, as he waited, eyes narrowed, for the answer. + +"At 9.20." + +"How do you know the time so exactly?" + +"Well, sir, I was windin' the clock for the night." + +"Sure your clock was right?" + +"Yes, sir. I happened to check up on it when the court-house clock +struck nine. Mebbe it was half a minute off, as you might say." + +"Describe the man." + +Hull did, with more or less accuracy. + +"Would you know him if you saw him again?" + +"Yes, sir, I sure would." + +The coroner flung a question at the witness as though it were a weapon, +"Ever carry a gun, Mr. Hull?" + +The big man on the stand dabbed at his veined face with the bandanna. +He answered, with an ingratiating whine. "I ain't no gunman, sir. +Never was." + +"Ever ride the range?" + +"Well, yes, as you might say," the witness answered uneasily. + +"Carried a six-shooter for rattlesnakes, didn't you?" + +"I reckon, but I never went hellin' around with it." + +"Wore it to town with you when you went, I expect, as the other boys +did." + +"Mebbeso." + +"What caliber was it?" + +"A .38, sawed-off." + +"Own it now?" + +The witness mopped his fat face. "No, sir." + +"Don't carry a gun in town?" + +"No, sir." + +"Ever own an automatic?" + +"No, sir. Wouldn't know how to fire one." + +"How long since you sold your .38?" + +"Five years or so." + +"Where did you carry it?" + +"In my hip pocket." + +"Which hip pocket?" + +Hull was puzzled at the question. "Why, this one--the right one, o' +course. There wouldn't be any sense in carryin' it where I couldn't +reach it." + +"That's so. Mr. Johns, you may take the witness again." + +The young lawyer asked questions about the Dry Valley irrigation +project. He wanted to know why there was dissatisfaction among the +farmers, and from a reluctant witness drew the information that the +water supply was entirely inadequate for the needs of the land under +cultivation. + +Mrs. Hull, called to the stand, testified that on the evening of the +twenty-third a man had knocked at their door to ask in which apartment +Mr. Cunningham lived. She had gone to the door, answered his question, +and watched him pass upstairs. + +"What time was this?" + +"9.20." + +Again Kirby felt a tide of excitement running in his arteries. Why +were this woman and her husband setting back the clock thirty-five +minutes? Was it to divert suspicion from themselves? Was it to show +that this stranger must have been in Cunningham's rooms for almost an +hour, during which time the millionaire promoter had been murdered? + +"Describe the man." + +This tall, angular woman, whose sex the years had seemed to have dried +out of her personality, made a much better witness than her husband. +She was acid and incisive, but her very forbidding aspect hinted of the +"good woman" who never made mistakes. She described the stranger who +had knocked at her door with a good deal of circumstantial detail. + +"He was an outdoor man, a rancher, perhaps, or more likely a +cattleman," she concluded. + +"You have not seen him since that time?" + +She opened her lips to say "No," but she did not say it. Her eyes had +traveled past the lawyer and fixed themselves on Kirby Lane. He saw +the recognition grow in them, the leap of triumph in her as the long, +thin arm shot straight toward him. + +"That's the man!" + +A tremendous excitement buzzed in the courtroom. It was as though some +one had exploded a mental bomb. Men and women craned forward to see +the man who had been identified, the man who no doubt had murdered +James Cunningham. The murmur of voices, the rustle of skirts, the +shuffling of moving bodies filled the air. + +The coroner rapped for order. "Silence in the court-room," he said +sharply. + +"Which man do you mean, Mrs. Hull?" asked the lawyer. + +"The big brown man sittin' at the end of the front bench, the one right +behind you." + +Kirby rose. "Think prob'ly she means me," he suggested. + +An officer in uniform passed down the aisle and laid a hand on the +cattleman's shoulder. "You're under arrest," he said. + +"For what, officer?" asked James Cunningham. + +"For the murder of your uncle, sir." + +In the tense silence that followed rose a little throat sound that was +not quite a sob and not quite a wail. Kirby turned his head toward the +back of the room. + +Wild Rose was standing in her place looking at him with dilated eyes +filled with incredulity and horror. + + + + +CHAPTER XIII + +"ALWAYS, PHYLLIS" + +"Chuck" Ellis, reporter, testified that on his way home from the Press +Club on the night of the twenty-third, he stopped at an alley on +Glenarm Street to strike a light for his cigar. Just as he lit the +match he saw a man come out from the window of a room in the Paradox +Apartments and run down the fire escape. It struck him that the man +might be a burglar, so he waited in the shadow of the building. The +runner came down the alley toward him. He stopped the man and had some +talk with him. At the request of the district attorney's assistant he +detailed the conversation and located on a chart shown him the room +from which he had seen the fellow emerge. + +"Would you know him again?"' + +"Yes." + +"Do you see him in this room?" + +Ellis, just off his run, had reached the court-room only a second +before he stepped to the stand. Now he looked around, surprised at the +lawyer's question. His wandering eye halted at Lane. + +"There he is." + +"Which man do you mean?" + +"The one on the end of the bench." + +"At what time did this take place?" + +"Lemme see. About quarter-past ten, maybe." + +"Which way did he go when he left you?" + +"Toward Fifteenth Street." + +"That is all." The lawyer turned briskly toward Kirby. "Mr. Lane, +will you take the stand?" + +Every eye focused on the range rider. As he moved forward and took the +oath the scribbling reporters found in his movements a pantherish +lightness, in his compact figure rippling muscles perfectly under +control. There was an appearance of sunburnt competency about him, a +crisp confidence born of the rough-and-tumble life of the outdoor West. +He did not look like a cold-blooded murderer. Women found themselves +hoping that he was not. The jaded weariness of the sensation-seekers +vanished at sight of him. A man had walked upon the stage, one full of +vital energy. + +The assistant district attorney led him through the usual +preliminaries. Lane said that he was by vocation a cattleman, by +avocation a rough rider. He lived at Twin Buttes, Wyoming. + +One of the reporters leaned toward another and whispered, "By Moses, +he's the same Lane that won the rough-riding championship at Pendleton +and was second at Cheyenne last year." + +"Are you related to James Cunningham, the deceased?" asked the lawyer. + +"His nephew." + +"How long since you had seen him prior to your visit to Denver this +time?" + +"Three years." + +"What were your relations with him?" + +The coroner interposed. "You need answer no questions tending to +incriminate you, Mr. Lane." + +A sardonic smile rested on the rough rider's lean, brown face. "Our +relations were not friendly," he said quietly. + +A ripple of excitement swept the benches. + +"What was the cause of the bad feeling between you?" + +"A few years ago my father fell into financial difficulties. He was +faced with bankruptcy. Cunningham not only refused to help him, but +was the hardest of his creditors. He hounded him to the time of my +father's death a few months later. His death was due to a breakdown +caused by intense worry." + +"You felt that Mr. Cunningham ought to have helped him?" + +"My father helped him when he was young. What my uncle did was the +grossest ingratitude." + +"You resented it." + +"Yes." + +"And quarreled with him?" + +"I wrote him a letter an' told him what I thought of him. Later, when +we met by chance, I told him again face to face." + +"You had a bitter quarrel?" + +"Yes." + +"That was how long ago?" + +"Three years since." + +"In that time did your feelings toward him modify at all?" + +"My opinion of him did not change, but I had no longer any feelin' in +the matter." + +"Did you write to him or hear from him in that time?" + +"No." + +"Had you any expectation of being remembered in your uncle's will?" + +"None whatever," answered Kirby, smiling. "Even if he had left me +anything I should have declined to accept it. But there was no chance +at all that he would." + +"Yet when you came to town you called on him at the first opportunity?" + +"Yes." + +"On what business?" + +"I reckon we'll not go into that." + +Johns glanced at his notes and passed to another line of questioning. +"You have heard the testimony of Mr. and Mrs. Hull and of Mr. Ellis. +Is that testimony true?" + +"Except in one point. It lacked only three or four minutes to ten when +I knocked at the door an' Mrs. Hull opened it." + +"You're sure of that?" + +"Sure. I looked at my watch just before I went into the Paradox +Apartments." + +"Will you tell the jury what took place between you and Mrs. Hull?" + +"'Soon as I saw her I knew she was scared stiff about somethin'. So +was Hull. He was headin' for a bedroom, so I wouldn't see him." + +The slender, well-dressed woman in the black veil, sitting far over to +the left, leaned forward and seemed to listen intently. All over the +room there was a stir of quickened interest. + +"How did she show her fear?" + +"No color in her face, eyes dilated an' full of terror, hands +tremblin'." + +"And Mr. Hull?" + +"He was yellow. Color all gone from his face. Looked as though he'd +had a shock." + +"What was said, if anything?" + +"I asked Mrs. Hull where my uncle's apartment was. That gave her +another fright. At least she almost fainted." + +"Did she say anything?" + +"She told me where his rooms were. Then she shut the door, right in my +face. I went upstairs to Apartment 12." + +"Where your uncle lived?" + +"Where my uncle lived. I rang the bell twice an' didn't get an answer. +Then I noticed the door was ajar. I opened it, called, an' walked in, +shuttin' it behind me. I guessed he must be around an' would be back +in a few minutes." + +"Just exactly what did you do?" + +"I waited by the table in the living-room for a few minutes. There was +a note there signed by S. Horikawa." + +"We have that note. What happened next? Did your uncle return?" + +"No. I had a feelin' that somethin' was wrong. I looked into the +bedroom an' then opened the door into the small smoking-room. The odor +of chloroform met me. I found the button an' flashed on the light." + +Except the sobbing breath of an unnerved woman no slightest sound could +be heard in the court-room but Lane's quiet, steady voice. It went on +evenly, clearly, dominating the crowded room by the drama of its +undramatic timbre. + +"My uncle was sittin' in a chair, tied to it. His head was canted a +little to one side an' he was lookin' up at me. There was a bullet +hole in his forehead. He was dead." + +The veiled woman in black gasped for air. Her head sank forward and +her slender body swayed. + +"Look out!" called the witness to the woman beside her. + +Before Kirby could reach her, the fainting woman had slipped to the +floor. He stooped to lift her head from the dusty planks--and the odor +of violet perfume met his nostrils. + +"If you'll permit me," a voice said. + +The cattleman looked up. His cousin James, white to the lips, was +beside him unfastening the veil. + +The face of the woman in black was the original of the photograph Kirby +had seen in his uncle's room, the one upon which had been written the +words, "Always, Phyllis." + + + + +CHAPTER XIV + +A FRIEND IN NEED + +The rest of the coroner's inquest was anticlimax. Those who had come +to tickle their palates with excitement tasted only one other moment of +it. + +"According to your own story you must have been in your uncle's +apartment at least a quarter of an hour, Mr. Lane," said the +prosecuting attorney. "What were you doing there all that time?" + +"Most of the time I was waitin' for him to return." + +"Why did you not call up the police at once, as soon as you found the +crime had been committed?" + +"I suppose I lost my head an' went panicky. I heard some one at the +door, an' I did not want to be found there. So I ran into the bedroom, +put out the light, an' left by the fire escape." + +"Was that the conduct one would expect of an innocent man?" + +"It was the action of an innocent man." + +"You don't look like a man that would lose his head, Mr. Lane." + +A smile lit the brown face of the witness. "Perhaps I wouldn't where I +come from, but I'm not used to city ways. I didn't know what to do. +So I followed my instinct an' bolted. I was unlucky enough to be seen." + +"Carry a gun, Mr. Lane?" + +"No." He corrected himself. "Sometimes I do on the range." + +"Own one, I suppose?" + +"Two. A .45 and a .38." + +"Bring either of them to Denver?" + +"No, sir." + +"Did you see any gun of any kind in your uncle's rooms--either a +revolver or an automatic?" + +"I did not." + +"That's all, sir." + +The jury was out something more than an hour. The news of the verdict +was brought to Kirby at the city jail by his cousin James. + +"Jury finds that Uncle James came to his death from the effect of +either a blow on the head by some heavy instrument, or a bullet fired +at close quarters by some unknown person," James said. + +"Good enough. Might have been worse for me," replied Kirby. + +"Yes. I've talked with the district attorney and think I can arrange +for bond. We're going to take it up with the court to-morrow. My +opinion is that the Hulls did this. All through his testimony the +fellow sweated fear. I've put it in the hands of a private detective +agency to keep tabs on him." + +The cattleman smiled ruefully. "Trouble is I'm the only witness to +their panic right after the murder. Wish it had been some one else. +I'm a prejudiced party whose evidence won't count for much. You're +right. They've somethin' to do with it. In their evidence they +shifted the time back thirty-five minutes so as to get me into +Apartment 12 that much earlier. Why? If I could answer that question, +I could go a long way toward solvin' the mystery of who killed Uncle +James an' why he did it." + +"Probably. As I see it, we have three leads to go on. One is that the +guilty man is Hull. A second possibility is the unknown man from Dry +Valley. A third is Horikawa." + +"How about Horikawa? Did you know him well?" + +"One never knows an Oriental. Perhaps I'm prejudiced because I used to +live in California, but I never trust a Japanese fully. His sense of +right and wrong is so different from mine. Horikawa is a quiet little +fellow whose thought processes I don't pretend to understand." + +"Why did he run away if he had nothin' to conceal?" + +"Looks bad. By the way, a Japanese house-cleaner was convicted +recently of killing a woman for whom he was working. He ran away, too, +and was brought back later." + +"Well, I don't know a thing about Japs except that they're good +workers. But there's one thing about this business that puzzles me. +This murder doesn't look to me like a white man's job. An American bad +man kills an' is done with it. But whoever did this aimed to torture +an' then kill, looks like. If not, why did they tie him up first?" + +James nodded, reflectively. "Maybe something in what you say. +Orientals strike me as being kind of unhuman, if you know what I mean. +Maybe they have the red Indian habit of torture in Japan." + +"Never heard of it if they have, but I've got a kinda notion--picked it +up in my readin'--that Asiatics will go a long way to square a grudge. +If this Horikawa had anything against Uncle James he might have planned +this revenge an' taken the two thousand dollars to help his getaway." + +"Yes, he might." + +"Anyhow, I've made up my mind to one thing. You can 'most always get +the truth when you go after it good an' hard. I'm goin' to find out +who did this thing an' why." + +James Cunningham looked into his cousin's face. A strong man himself, +he recognized strength in another. Into the blue-gray eyes of the man +from Twin Buttes had come a cold steely temper that transformed the +gay, boyish face. The oil broker knew Lane had no love for his uncle. +His resolution was probably based on a desire to clear his own name. + +"I'm with you in that," he said quietly, and his own dark eyes were +hard as jade. "We'll work this out together if you say so, Kirby." + +The younger man nodded. "Suits me fine." His face softened. "You +mentioned three leads. Most men would have said four. On the face of +it, of the evidence at hand, the guilty man is sittin' right here +talkin' with you. You know that the dead man an' I had a bitter +feelin' against each other. You know there was a new cause of trouble +between us, an' that I told you I was goin' to get justice out of him +one way or another. I'm the only man known to have been in his rooms +last night. Accordin' to the Hulls I must 'a' been there when he was +killed. Then, as a final proof of my guilt, I slide out by the fire +escape to get away without bein' seen. I'll say the one big lead +points straight to Kirby Lane." + +"Yes, but there's such a thing as character," James answered. "It's +written in your face that you couldn't have done it. That's why the +jury said a person unknown." + +"Yes, but the jury didn't know what you knew, that I had a fresh cause +of quarrel with Uncle James. Do you believe me absolutely? Don't you +waver at all?" + +"I don't think you had any more to do with it than I had myself," +answered the older cousin instantly, with conviction. + +Kirby gave him his hand impulsively. "You'll sure do to ride the river +with, James." + + + + +CHAPTER XV + +A GLOVE AND THE HAND IN IT + +As Rose saw the hand of the law closing in on Kirby, she felt as though +an ironic fate were laughing in impish glee at this horrible climax of +her woe. He had sacrificed a pot of gold and his ambition to be the +champion rough rider of the world in order to keep her out of trouble. +Instead of that he had himself plunged into it head first. + +She found herself entangled in a net from which there was no easy +escape. Part, at least, of the evidence against Kirby, or at least the +implication to be drawn from it, did not fit in with what she knew to +be the truth. He had not been in the apartment of James Cunningham +from 9.30 until 10.15. He might have been there at both times, but not +for the whole interval between. Rose had the best reason in the world +for knowing that. + +But what was she to do? What ought she to do? If she went with her +story to the district attorney, her sister's shame must inevitably be +dragged forth to be flaunted before the whole world. She could not do +that. She could not make little Esther the scapegoat of her +conscience. Nor could she remain silent and let Kirby stay in prison. +That was unthinkable. If her story would free him she must tell it. +But to whom? + +She read in the "Post" that James Cunningham was endeavoring to +persuade the authorities to accept bond for his cousin's appearance. +Swiftly Rose made up her mind what she would do. She looked up in the +telephone book the name she wanted and made connections on the line. + +"Is this Mr. Cunningham?" she asked. + +"Mr. Cunningham talking," came the answer. + +"I want to see you on very important business. Can I come this +morning?" + +"I think I didn't catch your name, madam." + +"My name doesn't matter. I have information about--your uncle's death." + +There was just an instant's pause. Then, "Ten o'clock, at the office +here," Rose heard. + +A dark, good-looking young man rose from a desk in the inner office +when Rose entered exactly at ten. In his eyes there sparked a little +flicker of surprised appreciation. Jack Cunningham was always +susceptible to the beauty of women. This girl was lovely both of +feature and of form. The fluent grace of the slender young body was +charming, but the weariness of grief was shadowed under the long-lashed +eyes. + +She looked around, hesitating. "I have an appointment with Mr. +Cunningham," she explained. + +"My name," answered the young man. + +"Mr. James Cunningham?" + +"Afraid you've made a mistake. I'm Jack Cunningham. This is my +uncle's office. I'm taking charge of his affairs. You called his +number instead of my brother's. People are always confusing the two." + +"I'm sorry." + +"If I can be of any service to you," he suggested. + +"I read that your brother was trying to arrange bond for Mr. Lane. I +want to see him about that. I am Rose McLean. My sister worked for +your uncle in his office." + +"Oh!" A film of wary caution settled over his eyes. It seemed to Rose +that what she had said transformed him into a potential adversary. +"Glad to meet you, Miss McLean. If you'd rather talk with my brother +I'll make an appointment with him for you." + +"Perhaps that would be best," she said. + +"Of course he's very busy. If it's anything I could do for you--" + +"I'd like you both to hear what I have to say." + +For the beating of a pulse his eyes thrust at her as though they would +read her soul. Then he was all smiling urbanity. + +"That seems to settle the matter. I'll call my brother up and make an +appointment." + +Over the wire Jack put the case to his brother. Presently he hung up +the receiver. "We'll go right over, Miss McLean." + +They went down the elevator and passed through the lower hall of the +building to Sixteenth Street. As they walked along Stout to the +Equitable Building, Rose made an explanation. + +"I saw you and Mr. James Cunningham at the inquest." + +His memory stirred. "Think I saw you, too. 'Member your bandaged arm. +Is it broken?" + +"Yes." + +He felt the need of talking against an inner perturbation he did not +want to show. What was this girl, the sister of Esther McLean, going +to tell him and his brother? What did she know about the murder of his +uncle? Excitement grew in him and he talked at random to cover it. + +"Fall down?" + +"A horse threw me and trod on my arm." + +"Girls are too venturesome nowadays." In point of fact he did not +think so. He liked girls who were good sportsmen and played the game +hard. But he was talking merely to bridge a mental stress. "Think +they can do anything a man can. 'Fess up, Miss McLean. You'd try to +ride any horse I could, no matter how mettlesome it was. Now wouldn't +you?" + +"I wouldn't go that far," she said dryly. For an instant the thought +flickered through her mind that she would like to get this +spick-and-span riding-school model on the back of Wild Fire and see how +long he would stick to the saddle. + +James Cunningham met Rose with a suave courtesy, but with reserve. +Like his brother he knew of only one subject about which the sister of +Esther McLean could want to talk with him. Did she intend to be +reasonable? Would she accept a monetary settlement and avoid the +publicity that could only hurt her sister as well as the reputation of +the name of Cunningham? Or did she mean to try to impose impossible +conditions? How much did she know and how much guess? Until he +discovered that he meant to play his cards close. + +Characteristically, Rose came directly to the point after the first few +words of introduction. + +"You know my sister, Esther McLean, a stenographer of your uncle?" she +asked. + +The girl was standing. She had declined a chair. She stood +straight-backed as an Indian, carrying her head with fine spirit. Her +eyes attacked the oil broker, would not yield a thousandth part of an +inch to his impassivity. + +"I--have met her," he answered. + +"You know . . . about her trouble?" + +"Yes. My cousin mentioned it. We--my brother and I--greatly regret +it. Anything in reason that we can do we shall, of course, hold +ourselves bound for." + +He flashed a glance at Jack who murmured a hurried agreement. The +younger man's eyes were busy examining a calendar on the wall. + +"I didn't come to see you about that now," the young woman went on, +cheeks flushed, but chin held high. "Nor would I care to express my +opinion of the . . . the creature who could take advantage of such a +girl's love. I intend to see justice is done my sister, as far as it +can now be done. But not to-day. First, I'm here to ask you if you're +friends of Kirby Lane. Do you believe he killed his uncle?" + +"No," replied James promptly. "I am quite sure he didn't kill him. I +am trying to get him out on bond. Any sum that is asked I'll sign for." + +"Then I want to tell you something you don't know. The testimony +showed that Kirby went to his uncle's apartment about 9.20 and left +nearly an hour later. That isn't true." + +"How do you know it isn't?" + +"Because I was there myself part of the time." + +Jack stared at her in blank dismay. Astonishment looked at her, too, +from the older brother's eyes. + +"You were in my uncle's apartment--on the night of the murder?" James +said at last. + +"I was. I came to Denver to see him--to get justice for my sister. I +didn't intend to let the villain escape scot free for what he had done." + +"Pardon me," interrupted Jack, and the girl noticed his voice had a +queer note of anxiety in it. "Did your sister ever tell you that my +uncle was responsible for--?" He left the sentence in air. + +"No, she won't talk yet. I don't know why. But I found a note signed +with his initials. He's the man. I know that." + +James looked at his brother. "I think we may take that for granted, +Jack. We'll accept such responsibilities on us as it involves. +Perhaps you'd better not interrupt Miss McLean till she has finished +her story." + +"I made an appointment with him after I had tried all day to get him on +the 'phone or to see him. That was Thursday, the day I reached town." + +"He was in Colorado Springs all that day," explained James. + +"Yes, he told me so when I reached him finally at the City Club. He +didn't want to see me, but I wouldn't let him off till he agreed. So +he told me to come to the Paradox and he would give me ten minutes. He +told me not to come till nearly ten, as he would be busy. I think he +hoped that by putting it so late and at his rooms he would deter me +from coming. But I intended to see him. He couldn't get away from me +so easily as that. I went." + +Jack moistened dry lips. His debonair ease had quite vanished. "When +did you go?" + +"It was quite a little past a quarter to ten when I reached his rooms." + +"Did you meet any one going up or coming down?" asked James. + +"A man and a woman passed me on the stairs." + +"A man and a woman," repeated Jack, almost in a whisper. His attitude +was tense. His eyes burned with excitement. + +"Was it light enough to tell who they were?" James asked. His cold +eyes did not lift from hers until she answered. + +"No. It was entirely dark. The woman was on the other side of the +man. I wouldn't have been sure she was a woman except for the rustle +of her skirts and the perfume." + +"Sure it wasn't the perfume you use yourself that you smelled?" + +"I don't use any." + +"You stick to it that you met a man and a woman, but couldn't possibly +recognize either of them," James Cunningham said, still looking +straight at her. + +She hesitated an instant. Somehow she did not quite like the way he +put this. "Yes," she said steadily. + +"You didn't take the elevator up, then?" + +"No. I'm not used to automatic elevators. I rang when I got to the +door. Nobody answered, but the door was wide open. I rang again, then +went in and switched on the light. There didn't seem to be anybody in. +I didn't feel right about it. I wanted to go. But I wouldn't because +I thought maybe he--your uncle--was trying to dodge me. I looked into +the bedroom. He wasn't there. So after a little I went to a door into +another room that was shut and knocked on it. I don't know why I +opened it when no answer came. Something seemed to move my hand to the +knob. I switched the light on there." + +"Yes?" James asked, gently. + +The girl gulped. She made a weak, small gesture with her hand, as +though to push from her mind the horrible sight her eyes had looked +upon. "He was dead, in the chair, tied to it. I think I screamed. +I'm not sure. But I switched off the light and shut the door. My +knees were weak, and I felt awf'lly queer in the head. I was crazy to +get away from the place, but I couldn't seem to have the power to move. +I leaned against the door, weak and limp as a small puppy. Then I +heard some one comin' up the stairs, and I knew I mustn't be caught +there. I switched off the lights just as some one came to the landing +outside." + +"Who was it? Did he come in?" asked Jack. + +"He rang and knocked two or three times. Then he came in. I was +standing by the table with my hand on some kind of heavy metal +paperweight. His hand was groping for the light switch. I could tell +that. He must have heard me, for he called out, 'Who's there?' In the +darkness there I was horribly frightened. He might be the murderer +come back. If not, of course he'd think I had done it. So I tried to +slip by him. He jumped at me and caught me by the hand. I pulled away +from him and hit hard at his face. The paper-weight was still in my +hand and he went down just as though a hammer had hit him. I ran out +of the room, downstairs, and out into the street." + +"Without meeting anybody?" + +"Yes." + +"You don't know who it was you struck?" + +"Unless it was Kirby." + +"Jove! That explains the bruise on his chin," Jack cried out. "Why +didn't he tell us that?" + +The color flushed the young woman's cheeks. "We're friends, he and I. +If he guessed I was the one that struck him he wouldn't tell." + +"How would he guess it?" asked James. + +"He knew I meant to see your uncle--meant to make him do justice to +Esther. I suppose I'd made wild threats. Besides, I left my glove +there--on the table, I think. I'd taken it off with some notion of +writing a note telling your uncle I had been there and that he had to +see me next day." + +"The police didn't find a woman's glove in the room, did they?" James +asked his brother. + +"Didn't hear of it if they did," Jack replied. + +"That's it, you see," explained Rose. "Kirby would know my glove. It +was a small riding-gauntlet with a rose embroidered on it. He probably +took it with him when he left. He kept still about the whole thing +because I was the woman and he was afraid of gettin' me into trouble." + +"Sounds reasonable," agreed James. + +"That's how it was. Kirby's a good friend. He'd never tell on me if +they hanged him for it." + +"They won't do that, Miss McLean," the older brother assured her. +"We're going to find who did this thing. Kirby and I have shaken hands +on that. But about your story. I don't quite see how we're going to +use it. We must protect your sister, too, as well as my cousin. If we +go to the police with your evidence and ask them to release Kirby, +they'll want to arrest you." + +"I know," she nodded wisely, "and of course they'd find out about +Esther then and the papers would get it and scatter the story +everywhere." + +"Exactly. We must protect her first. Kirby wouldn't want anything +done that would hurt her. Suppose we put it up to him and see what he +wants to do." + +"But we can't have him kept in jail," she protested. + +"I'll get him out on bond; if not to-day, tomorrow." + +"Well," she agreed reluctantly. "If that's the best we can do." + +Rose would have liked to have paid back Kirby's generosity in kind. If +her sister had not been a factor of the equation she would have gone +straight to the police with her story and suffered arrest gladly to +help her friend. But the circumstances did not permit a heroic +gesture. She had to take and not give. + + + + +CHAPTER XVI + +THE LADY WITH THE VIOLET PERFUME + +"I won't have it," Kirby said flatly. "If Miss McLean tells her story +to the district attorney he'll probably arrest her. It'll come out +about her sister an' the papers will run scare-heads. No need of it +a-tall. Won't hurt me to stay here a few days if I have to." + +Jack, dapper and trim, leaned on his cane and watched his cousin. He +felt a reluctant admiration for this virile cousin so picturesquely +competent, so clean-cut and four-square of mind. Was he in love with +the Wild Rose from Wyoming, whose spirit also was like a breath from +the sweet hill pines? Or was his decision only the expression of a +native chivalry that went out to all his friends and perhaps to all +women? + +"They'd certainly arrest her," Jack commented. "From a lawyer's point +of view there's every reason why they should. Motive for the crime, +sufficient; intention to force the victim to make reparation or punish +him, declared openly; opportunity to commit it, confessed; presence on +scene and eagerness to escape being seen there, admitted. The case +against her is stronger than the one against you." He offered this +last with a smile decorously but not wholly concealed. + +"Yet she couldn't possibly have done it!" the cattleman replied. + +"Couldn't she? I wonder." The Beau Brummel stroked his bit of +mustache, with the hint of insolence his manner often suggested. + +"Not possible," said Lane forcefully. "Uncle James was a big, +two-fisted fighter. No slip of a girl could have overpowered him an' +tied him. It's not within reason." He spoke urgently, though still in +the low murmur both the cousins were using in order not to be overheard. + +Jack put a neat, highly polished boot on the desk of the sergeant of +police. "Ever hear of a lady called Delilah?" he asked lightly. + +"What about her?" In Kirby's quiet eye there was a warning. + +The man-about-town shrugged his well-tailored shoulders. "They have a +way, the ladies. Guile, my son, is more potent than force." + +"Meaning?" + +"Delilah chloroformed Samson's suspicions before she sheared his locks." + +Kirby repressed an anger that he knew was worse than futile. "It you +knew Miss McLean you couldn't misjudge her so. She thinks an' acts as +straight as a man." + +"I don't say she did it, old top. I'm merely pointing out that it's +possible she did. Point of fact your friend made a hit with me. I'd +say she's a game little thoroughbred." + +"You an' James will regard what she told you as confidential, of +course." + +"Of course. We're of your mind, too, though I put her proposition to +you. Can't see anything to be gained by airing her story unless it's +absolutely necessary on your account. By the way, James wants me to +tell you that he thinks you won't have to spend another night at this +delightful hotel the city keeps for its guests. Bond has been +practically agreed on." + +"Fine. Your brother's a brick. We're goin' to run down this business, +he an' I, an' drag the truth to light." + +A glitter of sardonic mockery shone out of the dark eyes of Cunningham. +"You'll work together fine and Sherlock-Holmes this thing till it's as +clear as mud," he predicted. + +By the middle of the afternoon Kirby was free. After he had talked +over with James a plan of campaign, he called Rose up on the telephone +and told her he would be right out to Cherokee Street. + +She came to meet him in the stuffy parlor of the boarding-house with +hand outstretched. + +"Oh, Kirby, I'm so glad to see you and so sorry I was such a horrid +little beast last time we met. I'm ashamed of myself. My temper +explodes so--and after you came to Denver to help me and gave up so +much for me. You'll forgive me, won't you?" + +"You know it, Rose," he said, smiling. + +"Yes, I do know it," she cried quickly. "That makes it worse for me to +impose on you. Now you're in trouble because of me. I should think +you'd pretty near hate me." + +"We're in trouble together," he corrected. "I thought that was +supposed to bring friends closer an' not to drive them apart." + +She flashed a quick look at him and changed the subject of +conversation. Just now she could not afford to be emotional. + +"Are you going back to Twin Buttes?" + +"No. I'm goin' to find out who killed James Cunningham an' bring the +man to justice. That's the only way to clear us both before the world." + +"Yes!" she cried eagerly. "Let me help you. Let's be partners in it, +Kirby." + +He already had one partner, but he threw him overboard instantly. +James Cunningham was retired to the position of an adviser. + +"Bully! We'll start this very minute. Tell me all you know about what +happened the evenin' of the murder." + +She told again the story she had confessed to his cousins. He asked +questions, pushed home inquiries. When she mentioned the woman who had +passed her on the stairs he showed a keen interest. + +"You say you knew it was a woman with the man by the perfume. What +kind of perfume was it?" + +"Violet." + +"Did you notice a violet perfume any other place that night?" + +"In your uncle's living-room." + +"Sure?" + +"Yes." + +"So did I." + +"The woman I met on the stairs, then, had just come from your uncle's +rooms." + +"Looks like it," he nodded in agreement. + +"Then we've got to find her. She must have been in his apartment when +he was killed." The thought came to Rose as a revelation. + +"Or right after." + +"All we've got to do is to find her and the man with her, and we've +solved the mystery," the girl cried eagerly. + +"That's not quite all," said Kirby, smiling at the way her mind leaped +gaps. "We've got to induce them to talk, an' it's not certain they +know any more than we do." + +"Her skirts rustled like silk and the perfume wasn't cheap. I couldn't +really see her, but I knew she was well dressed," Rose told him. + +"Well, that's somethin'," he said with the whimsical quirk to his mouth +she knew of old. "We'll advertise for a well-dressed lady who uses +violet perfume. Supposed to be connected with the murder at the +Paradox Apartments. Generous reward an' many questions asked." + +His badinage was of the surface only. The subconscious mind of the +rough rider was preoccupied with a sense of a vague groping. The +thought of violet perfume associated itself with something else in +addition to the darkness of his uncle's living-room, but he did not +find himself able to localize the nebulous memory. Where was it his +nostrils had whiffed the scent more recently? + +"Don't you think we ought to see all the tenants at the Paradox and +talk with them? Some of them may have seen people going in or out. Or +they may have heard voices," she said. + +"That's a good idea. We'll make a canvass of the house." + +Her eyes sparkled. "We'll find who did it! When two people look for +the truth intelligently they're bound to find it. Don't you think so?" + +"I think we'll sure round up the wolf that did this killin'," he +drawled. "Anyhow, we'll sleep on his trail for a moon or two." + +They shook hands on it. + + + + +CHAPTER XVII + +IN DRY VALLEY + +If Kirby had been a properly authenticated detective of fiction he +would have gone to his uncle's apartment, locked the door, measured the +rooms with a tape-line, found imprints of fingers on a door panel, and +carefully gathered into an envelope the ashes from the cigar his uncle +had been smoking. The data obtained would have proved conclusively +that Cunningham had come to his death at the hands of a Brahmin of high +caste on account of priceless gems stolen from a temple in India. An +analysis of the cigar ashes would have shown that a subtle poison, +unknown to the Western world, had caused the victim's heart to stop +beating exactly two minutes and twelve seconds after taking the first +puff at the cigar. Thus the fictional ethics of the situation would +have been correctly met. + +But Kirby was only a plain, outdoors Westerner. He did not know the +conventional method of procedure. It did not even occur to him at +first that Apartment 12 might still have secrets to tell him after the +police and the reporters had pawed over it for several days. But his +steps turned back several times to the Paradox as the center from which +all clues must emanate. He found himself wandering around in that +vicinity trying to pick up some of the pieces of the Chinese puzzle +that made up the mystery of his uncle's death. + +It was on one of these occasions that he and Rose met his cousin James +coming out of the apartment house. Cunningham was a man of admirable +self-control, but he looked shaken this morning. His hand trembled as +it met that of his cousin. In his eyes was the look of a man who has +suffered a shock. + +"I've been sitting alone for an hour in the room where Uncle James met +his death--been arranging his papers," he explained. "It began to get +my nerve. I couldn't stand it any longer. The horrible thing kept +jumping to my mind." He drew his right hand heavily across his eyes, +as though to shut out and brush away the sight his imagination conjured. + +His left arm hung limp. Kirby's quick eyes noticed it. + +"You've hurt yourself," Lane said. + +"Yes," admitted James. "My heel caught on the top step as I started to +walk down. I've wrenched my arm badly. Maybe I've broken it." + +"Oh, I hope not," Rose said quickly, a warm sympathy in her vibrant +young voice. "A broken arm's no fun. I find it an awful nuisance." + +The janitor of the Paradox came out and joined them. He was a little +Japanese well on toward middle life, a small-featured man with small, +neat feet. + +"You feelum all right yes now?" he asked, directing his slant, oval +eyes toward Cunningham. + +"Yes, I've got over the nausea, thanks, Shibo." James turned to the +others. "Shibo was at the foot of the stairs when I caught my heel. +He gathered up the pieces. I guess I was all in, wasn't I, Shibo?" + +The Japanese nodded agreement. "You heap sick for minute." + +"I've been worrying a good deal about this business of Uncle James, I +suppose. Anyhow, I've had two or three dizzy spells lately. Nothing +serious, though." + +"I don't wonder. You sit at a desk too much, James. What you need is +exercise. If you'd get in the saddle a couple o' hours a day an' do +some stiff ridin' you'd quit havin' dizzy spells. Sorry you're hurt, +old man. I'll trail along with you to a doctor's." + +"Not necessary. I'll be all right. It's only a few blocks to his +office. Fact is, I'm feeling quite myself again." + +"Well, if you're sure. Prob'ly you've only sprained your arm. By the +way, I'd kinda like to go over Uncle's apartment again. Mind if I do? +I don't reckon the police missed anything, but you can never tell." + +James hesitated. "I promised the Chief of Police not to let anybody +else in. Tell you what I'll do. I'll see him about it and get a +permit for you. Say, Kirby, I've been thinking one of us ought to go +up to Dry Valley and check things up there. We might find out who +wrote that note to Uncle. Maybe some one has been making threats in +public. We could see who was in town from there last week. Could you +go? To-day? Train leaves in half an hour." + +Kirby could and would. He left Rose to talk with the tenants of the +Paradox Apartments, entrained for Dry Valley at once, and by noon was +winding over the hilltops far up in the Rockies. + +He left the train at Summit, a small town which was the center of +activities for Dry Valley. Here the farmers bought their supplies and +here they marketed their butter and eggs. In the fall they drove in +their cattle and loaded them for Denver at the chutes in the railroad +yard. + +There had been times in the past when Summit ebbed and flowed with a +rip-roaring tide of turbulent life. This had been after the round-ups +in the golden yesterday when every other store building had been +occupied by a saloon and the rattle of chips lasted far into the small +hours of night. Now Colorado was dry and the roulette wheel had gone +to join memories of the past. Summit was quiet as a Sunday afternoon +on a farm. Its busiest inhabitant was a dog which lay in the sun and +lazily poked over its own anatomy for fleas. + +Kirby registered at the office of the frame building which carried on +its false front the word HOTEL. This done, he wandered down to the +shack which bore the inscription, "Dry Valley Enterprise." The owner +of the paper, who was also editor, reporter, pressman, business +manager, and circulator, chanced to be in printing some dodgers +announcing a dance at Odd Fellows' Hall. He desisted from his labors +to chat with the stranger. + +The editor was a fat, talkative little man. Kirby found it no trouble +at all to set him going on the subject of James Cunningham, Senior. In +fact, during his stay in the valley the Wyoming man could always use +that name as an "Open Sesame." It unlocked all tongues. Cunningham +and his mysterious death were absorbing topics. The man was hated by +scores who had been brought close to ruin by his chicanery. Dry Valley +rejoiced openly in the retribution that had fallen upon him. + +"Who killed him?" the editor asked rhetorically. + +"Well, sir, I'll be dawged if I know. But if I was guessin' I'd say it +was this fellow Hull, the slicker that helped him put through the Dry +Valley steal. 'Course it might 'a' been the Jap, or it might 'a' been +the nephew from Wyoming, but I'll say it was Hull. We know that cuss +Hull up here. He's one bad package, that fat man is, believe me. +Cunningham held out on him, an' he laid for the old crook an' got him. +Don't that look reasonable to you? It sure does to me. Put a rope +round Hull's neck an' you'll hang the man that killed old J. C." + +Lane put in an hour making himself _persona grata_, then read the +latest issue of the "Enterprise" while the editor pulled off the rest +of the dodgers. In the local news column he found several items that +interested him. These were: + + +Jim Harkins is down in Denver on business and won't be home till +Monday. Have a good time, Jim. + +T. J. Lupton is enjoying a few days vacation in the Queen City. He +expects to buy some fancy stock at the yards for breeding purposes. +Dry Valley is right in the van of progress. + +Art Jelks and Brad Mosely returned from Denver today after a three +days' visit in the capital. A good time was had by both. You want to +watch them, girls. The boys are both live ones. + +Oscar Olson spent a few days in Denver this week. Oscar owns a place +three miles out of town on the Spring Creek road. + + +Casually Kirby gathered information. He learned that Jim Harkins was +the town constable and not interested in land; that Lupton was a very +prosperous cattleman whose ranch was nowhere near the district promoted +by Cunningham; and that Jelks and Mosely were young fellows more or +less connected with the garage. The editor knew Olson only slightly. + +"He's a Swede--big, fair fellow--got caught in that irrigation fake of +Hull and Cunningham. Don't know what he was doin' in Denver," the +newspaperman said. + +Lane decided that he would see Olson and have a talk with him. +Incidentally, he meant to see all the Dry Valley men who had been in +Denver at the time Cunningham was killed. But the others he saw only +to eliminate them from suspicion. One glance at each of them was +enough to give them a clean bill so far as the mystery went. They knew +nothing whatever about it. + +Lane rode out to Olson's place and found him burning brush. The +cattleman explained that he was from Wyoming and wanted to sell some +registered Herefords. + +Olson looked over his dry, parched crops with sardonic bitterness. "Do +I look like I could buy registered stock?" he asked sourly. + +Kirby made a remark that set the ranchman off. He said that the crops +looked as though they needed water. Inside of five minutes he had +heard the story of the Dry Valley irrigation swindle. Olson was not a +foreigner. He had been born in Minnesota and attended the public +schools. He spoke English idiomatically and without an accent. The +man was a tall, gaunt, broad-shouldered Scandinavian of more than +average intelligence. + +The death of Cunningham had not apparently assuaged his intense hatred +of the man or the bitterness which welled out of him toward Hull. + +"Cunningham got his! Suits me fine! Now all I ask is that they hang +Hull for it!" he cried vindictively. + +"Seems to be some doubt whether Hull did it," suggested Kirby, to draw +him on. + +"That so? Mebbe there's evidence you don't know about." The words had +come out in the heat of impulse, shot at Kirby tensely and +breathlessly. Olson looked at the man on the horse and Lane could see +caution grow on him. A film of suspicion spread over the pupils +beneath the heavy, ragged eyebrows. "I ain't sayin' so. All I'm dead +sure of is that Hull did it." + +Kirby fired a shot point-blank at him. "Nobody can be dead sure of +that unless he saw him do it." + +"Mebbe some one saw him do it. Folks don't tell all they know." Olson +looked across the desert beyond the palpitating heat waves to the +mountains in the distance. + +"No. That's tough sometimes on innocent people, too." + +"Meanin' this nephew of old Cunningham. He'll get out all right." + +"Will he? There's a girl under suspicion, too. She had no more to do +with it than I had, but she's likely to get into mighty serious trouble +just the same." + +"I ain't read anything in the papers about any girl," Olson answered +sullenly. + +"No, it hasn't got to the papers yet. But it will. It's up to every +man who knows anything about this to come clean." + +"Is it?" The farmer looked bleakly at his visitor. "Seems to me you +take a lot of interest in this. Who are you, anyhow?" + +"My name is Kirby Lane." + +"Nephew of the old man?" + +"Yes." + +Olson gave a snort of dry, splenetic laughter. "And you're out here +sellin' registered Herefords." + +"I have some for sale. But that's not why I came to see you." + +"Why did you come, then?" asked the Scandinavian, his blue eyes hard +and defiant. + +"I wanted to have a look at the man who wrote the note to James +Cunningham threatenin' to dry-gulch him if he ever came to Dry Valley +again." + +It was a center shot. Kirby was sure of it. He read it in the man's +face before anger began to gather in it. + +"I'm the man who wrote that letter, am I?" The lips of Olson were +drawn back in a vicious snarl. + +"You're the man." + +"You can prove that, o' course." + +"Yes." + +"How?" + +"By your handwritin'. I've seen three specimens of it to-day." + +"Where?" + +"One at the court-house, one at the bank that holds your note, an' the +third at the office of the 'Enterprise.' You wrote an article urgin' +the Dry Valley people to fight Cunningham. That article, in your own +handwritin', is in my pocket right now." + +"I didn't tell them to gun him, did I?" + +"That's not the point. What I'm gettin' at is that the same man wrote +the article that wrote the letter to Cunningham." + +"Prove it! Prove it!" + +"The paper used in both cases was torn from the same tablet. The +writin' is the same." + +"You've got a nerve to come out here an' tell me I'm the man that +killed Cunningham," Olson flung out, his face flushing darkly. + +"I'm not sayin' that." + +"What are you sayin', then? Shoot it at me straight." + +"If I thought you had killed Cunningham I wouldn't be here now. What I +thought when I came was that you might know somethin' about it. I +didn't come out here to trap you. My idea is that Hull did it. But +I've made up my mind you're hidin' somethin'. I'm sure of it. You as +good as told me so. What is it?" Kirby, resting easy in the saddle +with his weight on one stirrup, looked straight into the rancher's eyes +as he asked the question. + +"I'd be likely to tell you if I was, wouldn't I?" jeered Olson. + +"Why not? Better tell me than wait for the police to third-degree you. +If you're not in this killin' why not tell what you know? I've told my +story." + +"After they spotted you in the court-room," the farmer retorted. "An' +how do I know you told all you know? Mebbe you're keepin' secrets, +too." + +Kirby took this without batting an eye. "An innocent man hasn't +anything to fear," he said. + +"Hasn't he?" Olson picked up a stone and flung it at a pile of rocks +he had gathered fifty yards away. He was left-handed. "How do you +know he hasn't? Say, just for argument, I do know somethin'. Say I +practically saw Cunningham killed an' hadn't a thing to do with it. +Could I get away with a story like that? You know darned well I +couldn't. Wouldn't the lawyers want to know howcome I to be so handy +to the place where the killin' was, right at the very time it took +place, me who is supposed to have threatened to bump him off myself? +Sure they would. I'd be tyin' a noose round my own neck." + +"Do you know who killed my uncle?" demanded Lane point-blank. "Did you +see it done?" + +Olson's eyes narrowed. A crafty light shone through the slitted lids. +"Hold yore hawsses. I ain't said I knew a thing. Not a thing. I was +stringin' you." + +Kirby knew he had overshot the mark. He had been too eager and had +alarmed the man. He was annoyed at himself. It would take time and +patience and finesse to recover lost ground. Shrewdly he guessed at +the rancher's state of mind. The man wanted to tell something, was +divided in mind whether to come forward as a witness or keep silent. +His evidence, it was clear enough, would implicate Hull; but, perhaps +indirectly, it would involve himself, too. + +"Well, whatever it is you know, I hope you'll tell it," the cattleman +said. "But that's up to you, not me. If Hull is the murderer, I want +the crime fastened on him. I don't want him to get off scot free. An' +that's about what's goin' to happen. The fellow's guilty, I believe, +but we can't prove it." + +"Can't we? I ain't sure o' that." Again, through the narrowed lids, +wary guile glittered. "Mebbe we can when the right time comes." + +"I doubt it." Lane spoke casually and carelessly. "Any testimony +against him loses force if it's held out too long. The question comes +up, why didn't the witness come right forward at once. No, I reckon +Hull will get away with it--if he really did it." + +"Don't you think it," Olson snapped out. "They've pretty nearly got +enough now to convict him." + +The rough rider laughed cynically. "Convict him! They haven't enough +against him even to make an arrest. They've got a dozen times as much +against me an' they turned me loose. He's quite safe if he keeps his +mouth shut--an' he will." + +Olson flung a greasewood shrub on a pile of brush. His mind, Kirby +could see, was busy with the problem before it. The man's caution and +his vindictive desire for vengeance were at war. He knew something, +evidence that would tend to incriminate Hull, and he was afraid to +bring it to the light of day. He worked automatically, and the man on +horseback watched him. On that sullen face Kirby could read fury, +hatred, circumspection, suspicion, the lust for revenge. + +The man's anger barked at Lane. "Well, what you waitin' for?" he asked +harshly. + +"Nothin'. I'm goin' now." He wrote his Denver address on a card. "If +you find there is any evidence against Hull an' want to talk it over, +perhaps you'd rather come to me than the police. I'm like you. If +Hull did it I want him found guilty. So long." + +He handed Olson his card. The man tossed it away. Kirby turned his +horse toward town. Five minutes later he looked back. The settler had +walked across to the place where he had thrown the card and was +apparently picking it up. + +The man from Wyoming smiled. He had a very strong hunch that Olson +would call on him within a week or ten days. Of course he was +disappointed, but he knew the game had to be played with patience. At +least he had learned something. The man had in his possession evidence +vitally important. Kirby meant to get that evidence from him somehow +by hook or crook. + +What was it the man knew? Was it possible he could have killed +Cunningham himself and be trying to throw the blame of it on Hull? Was +that why he was afraid to come out in the open with what testimony he +had? Kirby could not forget the bitter hatred of Cunningham the farmer +cherished. That hatred extended to Hull. What a sweet revenge to kill +one enemy and let the other one hang for the crime! + +A detail jumped to his mind. Olson had picked up a stone and thrown it +to the rock pile--with his left hand. + + + + +CHAPTER XVIII + +"BURNIN' A HOLE IN MY POCKET" + +Cole Sanborn passed through the Welcome Arch at the station carrying an +imitation-leather suitcase. He did not take a car, but walked up +Seventeenth Avenue as far as the Markham Hotel. Here he registered, +left his luggage, and made some inquiries over the telephone. + +Thirty minutes later he was shaking hands with Kirby Lane. + +"You dawg-goned old hellamile, what you mean comin' down here an' +gettin' throwed in the calaboose?" he demanded, thumping his friend on +the shoulder with a heavy brown fist. + +"I'm sure enough glad to see you, Mr. Champeen-of-the-World," Kirby +answered, falling into the easy vernacular of the outdoor country. +"Come to the big town to spend that thousand dollars you won the other +day?" + +"Y'betcha; it's burnin' a hole in my pocket. Say, you blamed ol' +horntoad, howcome you not to stay for the finals? Folks was plumb +disappointed we didn't ride it off." + +"Tell you about that later. How long you figurin' to stay in Denver, +Cole?" + +"I dunno. A week, mebbe. Fellow at the Empress wants me to go on that +circuit an' do stunts, but I don't reckon I will. Claims he's got a +trained bronc I can show on." + +"Me, I'm gonna be busy as a dog with fleas," said Kirby. "I got to +find out who killed my uncle. Suspicion rests on me, on a man named +Hull, on the Jap servant, an' on Wild Rose." + +"On Wild Rose!" exclaimed Cole, in surprise. "Have they gone crazy?" + +"The police haven't got to her yet, old-timer. But their suspicions +will be headed that way right soon if I don't get busy. She thinks her +evidence will clear me. It won't. It'll add a motive for me to have +killed him. The detectives will figure out we did it together, Rose +an' me." + +"Hell's bells! Ain't they got no sense a-tall?" + +Kirby looked at his watch. "I'm headed right now for the apartment +where my uncle was killed. Gonna look the ground over. Wanta come +along?" + +"Surest thing you know. I'm in this to a fare-you-well. Go ahead. +I'll take yore dust." + +The lithe, long-bodied man from Basin, Wyoming, clumped along in his +high-heeled boots beside his friend. Both of them were splendid +examples of physical manhood. The sun tan was on their faces, the +ripple of health in their blood. But there was this difference between +them, that while it was written on every inch of Sanborn that he lived +astride a cow-pony, Kirby might have been an irrigation engineer or a +mining man from the hills. He had neither the bow legs nor the +ungraceful roll of the man who rides most of his waking hours. His +clothes were well made and he knew how to carry them. + +As they walked across to Fourteenth Street, Kirby told as much of the +story as he could without betraying Esther McLean's part in it. He +trusted Sanborn implicitly, but the girl's secret was not his to tell. + +From James Cunningham Kirby had got the key of his uncle's apartment. +His cousin had given it to him a little reluctantly. + +"The police don't want things moved about," he had explained. "They +would probably call me down if they knew I'd let you in." + +"All I want to do is to look the ground over a bit. What the police +don't know won't worry 'em any," the cattleman had suggested. + +"All right." James had shrugged his shoulders and turned over the key. +"If you think you can find out anything I don't see any objection to +your going in." + +Sanborn applied his shrewd common sense to the problem as he listened +to Kirby. + +"Looks to me like you're overlookin' a bet, son," he said. "What about +this Jap fellow? Why did he light out so _pronto_ if he ain't in this +thing?" + +"He might 'a' gone because he's a foreigner an' guessed they'd throw it +on him. They would, too, if they could." + +"Shucks! He had a better reason than that for cuttin' his stick. Sure +had. He's in this somehow." + +"Well, the police are after him. They'll likely run him down one o' +these days. Far as I'm concerned I've got to let his trail go for the +present. There are possibilities right here on the ground that haven't +been run down yet. For instance, Rose met a man an' a woman comin' +down the stairs while she was goin' up. Who were they?" + +"Might 'a' been any o' the tenants here." + +"Yes, but she smelt a violet perfume that both she an' I noticed in the +apartment. My hunch is that the man an' the woman were comin' from my +uncle's rooms." + +"Would she recognize them? Rose, I mean?" asked Sanborn. + +"No: it was on the dark stairs." + +"Hmp! Queer they didn't come forward an' tell they had met a woman +goin' up. That is, if they hadn't anything to do with the crime." + +"Yes. Of course there might be other reasons why they must keep quiet. +Some love affair, for instance." + +"Sure. That might be, an' that would explain why they went down the +dark stairs an' didn't take the elevator." + +"Just the same I'd like to find out who that man an' woman are," Kirby +said. He lifted his hand in a small gesture. "This is the Paradox +Apartments." + +A fat man rolled out of the building just as they reached the steps. +He pulled up and stared down at Kirby. + +"What--what--?" His question hung poised. + +"What am I doin' out o' jail, Mr. Hull? I'm lookin' for the man that +killed my uncle," Kirby answered quietly, looking straight at him. + +"But--" + +"Why did you lie about the time when you saw me that night?" + +Hull got excited at once. His eyes began to dodge. "I ain't got a +word to say to you--not a word--not a word!" He came puffing down the +steps and went waddling on his way. + +"What do you think of that prize package, Cole?" asked Lane, his eyes +following the man. + +"Guilty as hell," said the bronco buster crisply. + +"I'd say so too," agreed Kirby. "I don't know as we need to look much +farther. My vote is for Mr. Cass Hull--with reservations." + + + + +CHAPTER XIX + +A DISCOVERY + +The men from Wyoming stepped into the elevator and Kirby pressed the +button numbered 3. At the third floor they got out and turned to the +right. With the Yale key his cousin had given him Kirby opened the +door of Apartment 12. + +He knew that there was not an inch of space in the rooms that the +police and the newspaper reporters had not raked as with a fine-tooth +comb for clues. The desk had been ransacked, the books and magazines +shaken, the rugs taken up. There was no chance that he would discover +anything new unless it might be by deduction. + +Wild Rose had reported to him the result of her canvass of the tenants. +One or two of them she had missed, but she had managed to see all the +rest. Nothing of importance had developed from these talks. Some did +not care to say anything. Others wanted to gossip a whole afternoon +away, but knew no more than what the newspapers had told them. The +single fact that stood out from her inquiries was that those who lived +in the three apartments nearest to Number 12 had all been out of the +house on the evening of the twenty-third. The man who rented the rooms +next those of Cunningham had left for Chicago on the twenty-second and +had not yet returned to Denver. + +Cole took in the easy-chairs, the draperies, and the soft rugs with an +appreciative eye. "The old boy believed in solid comfort. You +wouldn't think to look at this that he'd spent years on a bronc's back +buckin' blizzards. Some luxury, I'll say! Looks like one o' them +palaces of the vamp ladies the movies show." + +Kirby wasted no time in searching the apartment for evidence. What +interested him was its entrances and its exits, its relation to +adjoining rooms and buildings. He had reason to believe that, between +nine o'clock and half-past ten on the night of the twenty-third, not +less than eight persons in addition to Cunningham had been in the +apartment. How had they all managed to get in and out without being +seen by each other? + +Lane talked aloud, partly to clear his own thought and partly to put +the situation before his friend. + +"O' course I don't _know_ every one of the eight was here. I'm +guessin' from facts I do know, makin' inferences, as you might say. To +begin with, I was among those present. So was Rose. We don't need to +guess any about that." + +Cole, still almost incredulous at the mention of Rose as a suspect, +opened his lips to speak and closed them again with no word uttered. +He was one of those loyal souls who can trust without asking for +explanations. + +"The lady of the violet perfume an' her escort were here," Kirby went +on. "At least she was--most prob'ly he was, too. It's a cinch the +Hulls were in the rooms. They were scared stiff when I saw 'em a +little later. They lied on the witness stand so as to clear themselves +an' get me into trouble in their place. Olson backs up the evidence. +He good as told me he'd seen Hull in my uncle's rooms. If he did he +must 'a' been present himself. Then there's the Jap Horikawa. He'd +beat it before the police went to his room to arrest him at daybreak +the mornin' after the murder. How did he know my uncle had been +killed? It's not likely any one told him between half-past ten an' +half-past five the next mo'nin'. No, sir. He knew it because his eyes +had told him so." + +"I'll say he did," agreed Sanborn. + +"Good enough. That makes eight of us that came an' went. We don't +need to figure on Rose an' me. I came by the door an' went by the fire +escape. She walked upstairs an' down, too. The violet lady an' the +man with her took the stairs down. We know that. But how about Hull +an' Olson an' the Jap? Here's another point. Say it was 9.50 when +Rose got here. My uncle didn't reach his rooms before nine o'clock. +He changed his shoes, put on a smokin'-jacket, an' lit a cigar. He had +it half smoked before he was tied to the chair. That cuts down to less +than three quarters of an hour the time in which he was chloroformed, +tied up to the chair, an' shot, an' in which at least six people paid a +visit here, one of the six stayin' long enough to go through his desk +an' look over a whole lot o' papers. Some o' these people were sure +enough treadin' close on each other's heels an' I reckon some were +makin' quick getaways." + +"Looks reasonable," Cole admitted. + +"I'll bet I wasn't the only man in a hurry that night an' not the only +one trapped here. The window of the den was open when I came. Don't +you reckon some one else beat it by the fire escape?"' + +"Might've." + +They passed into the small room where James Cunningham had met his +death. Broad daylight though it was, Kirby felt for an instant a +tightening at his heart. In imagination he saw again the gargoyle grin +on the dead face upturned to his. With an effort he pushed from him +the grewsome memory. + +The chair in which the murdered man had been found was gone. The +district attorney had taken it for an exhibit at the trial of the man +upon whom evidence should fasten. The littered papers had been sorted +and most of them removed, probably by James Cunningham, Junior. +Otherwise the room remained the same. + +The air was close. Kirby stepped to the window and threw it up. He +looked out at the fire escape and at the wall of the rooming-house +across the alley. Denver is still young. It offers the incongruities +of the West. The Paradox Apartments had been remodeled and were modern +and up to date. Adjoining it was the Wyndham Hotel, a survival of +earlier days which could not long escape the march of progress. + +Lane and his friend stepped out to the platform of the fire escape. +Below them was the narrow alleyway, directly in front the iron frame of +the Wyndham fire escape. + +A discovery flashed across Kirby's brain and startled him. "See here, +Cole. If a man was standin' on that platform over there, an' if my +uncle had been facin' him in a chair, sittin' in front of the window, +he could 'a' rested his hand on that railin' to take aim an' made a +dead-center shot." + +Cole thought it out. "Yes, he could, if yore uncle had been facin' the +window. But the chair wasn't turned that way, you told me." + +"Not when I saw it. But some one might 'a' moved the chair afterward." + +The champion of the world grinned. "Seems to me, old man, you're +travelin' a wide trail this trip. If some one tied up the old man an' +chloroformed him an' left him here convenient, then moved him back to +the wall after he'd been shot, then some one on the fire escape could +'a' done it. What's the need of all them _ifs_? Since some one in the +room had to be in the thing, we can figure he fired the shot, too, +whilst he was doin' the rest. Besides, yore uncle's face was +powder-marked, showin' he was shot from right close." + +"Yes, that's so," agreed Lane, surrendering his brilliant idea +reluctantly. A moment, and his face brightened. "Look, Cole! The +corridor of that hotel runs back from the fire escape. If a fellow had +been standin' there he could 'a' seen into the room if the blind wasn't +down." + +"Sure enough," agreed Sanborn. "If the murderer had give him an invite +to a grand-stand seat. But prob'ly he didn't." + +"No, but it was hot that night. A man roomin' at the Wyndham might +come out to get a breath of air, say, an' if he had he might 'a' seen +somethin'." + +"Some more of them _ifs_, son. What are you drivin' at, anyhow?" + +"Olson. Maybe it was from there he saw what he did." + +Sanborn's face lost its whimsical derision. His blue eyes narrowed in +concentration of thought. "That's good guessin', Kirby. It may be +'way off; then again it may be absolutely correct. Let's find out if +Olson stayed at the Wyndham whilst he was in Denver. He'd be more apt +to hang out nearer the depot." + +"Unless he chose the Wyndham to be near my uncle." + +"Mebbeso. But if he did it wasn't because he meant the old man any +good. Prove to me that the Swede stayed there an' I'll say he's as +liable as Hull to be guilty. He could 'a' throwed a rope round that +stone curlycue stickin' out up there above us, swung acrost to the fire +escape here, an' walked right in on Cunningham." + +Lane's quick glance swept the abutment above and the distance between +the buildings. + +"You're shoutin', Cole. He could 'a' done just that. Or he might have +been waitin' in the room for my uncle when he came home." + +"Yes. More likely that was the way of it'--if we're on a hot trail +a-tall." + +"We'll check up on that first. Chances are ten to one we're barkin' up +the wrong tree. Right away we'll have a look at the Wyndham register." + +They did. The Wyndham was a rooming-house rather than a hotel, but the +landlady kept a register for her guests. She brought it out into the +hall from her room for the Wyoming men to look at. + +There, under date of the twenty-first, they found the name they were +looking for. Oscar Olson had put up at the Wyndham. He had stayed +three nights, checking out on the twenty-fourth. + +The friends walked into the street and back toward the Paradox without +a word. As they stepped into the elevator again. Lane looked at his +friend and smiled. + +"I've a notion Mr. Olson had a right interestin' trip to Denver," he +said quietly. + +"I'll say he had," answered Sanborn. "An' that ain't but half of it +either. He's mighty apt to have another interestin' one here one o' +these days." + + + + +CHAPTER XX + +THE BRASS BED + +The rough riders gravitated back to the fire escape. Kirby had studied +the relation of his uncle's apartment to the building opposite. He had +not yet examined it with reference to the adjoining rooms. + +"While we're cuttin' trail might as well be thorough," he said to his +friend. "The miscreant that did this killin' might 'a' walked out the +door or he might 'a' come through the window here. If he did that +last, which fork of the road did he take? He could go down the ladder +or swing across to the Wyndham an' slip into the corridor. Let's make +sure we've got all the prospects figured out at that." + +Before he had finished the sentence, Lane saw another way of flight. +The apartment in front of Cunningham's was out of reach of the fire +escape. But the nearest window of the one to the rear was closer. +Beneath it ran a stone ledge. An active man could swing himself from +the railing of the platform to the coping and force an entrance into +that apartment through the window. + +Kirby glanced up and down the alley. A department store delivery auto +was moving out of sight. Nobody was in the line of vision except an +occasional pedestrian passing on the sidewalk at the entrances to the +alley. + +"I'm gonna take a whirl at it," Lane said, nodding toward the window. + +"How much do they give for burglary in this state?" asked Sanborn, his +eyes dancing. "I'd kinda hate to see you do twenty years." + +"They have to catch the rabbit before they cook it, old-timer. Here +goes. Keep an eye peeled an' gimme the office if any cop shows up." + +"Mebbe the lady's at home. I don't allow to rescue you none if she +massacrees you," the world's champion announced, grinning. + +"Wrong guess, Cole. The boss of this hacienda is a man, an' he's in +Chicago right now." + +"You're the dawg-gonedest go-getter I ever threw in with," Sanborn +admitted. "All right. Go to it. If I gotta go to the calaboose I +gotta go, that's all." + +Kirby stepped lightly to the railing, edged far out with his weight on +the ledge, and swung to the window-sill. The sash yielded to the +pressure of his hands and moved up. A moment later he disappeared from +Sanborn's view into the room. + +It was the living-room of the apartment into which Lane had stepped. +The walls were papered with blue and the rug was a figured yellow and +blue. The furniture was of fumed oak, the chairs leather-padded. + +The self-invited guest met his first surprise on the table. It was +littered with two or three newspapers. The date of the uppermost +caught his eye. It was a copy of the "Post" of the twenty-fifth. He +looked at the other papers. One was the "Times" and another the +"News," dated respectively the twenty-fourth and the twenty-sixth. +There was an "Express" of the twenty-eighth. Each contained long +accounts of the developments in the Cunningham murder mystery. + +How did these papers come here? The apartment was closed, its tenant +in Chicago. The only other persons who had a key and the right of +entry were Horikawa and the Paradox janitor, and the house servant had +fled to parts unknown. Who, then, had brought these papers here? And +why? Some one, Lane guessed, who was vitally interested in the murder. +He based his presumption on one circumstance. The sections of the +newspapers which made no reference to the Cunningham affair had been +jammed into the waste-paper basket close to an adjoining desk. + +The apartment held two rooms, a buffet kitchen and a bathroom. Kirby +opened the door into the bedroom. + +He stood paralyzed on the threshold. On the bed, fully dressed, his +legs stretched in front of him and his feet crossed, was the missing +man Horikawa. His torso was propped up against the brass posts of the +bedstead. A handkerchief encircled each arm and bound it to the brass +upright behind. + +In the forehead, just above the slant, oval eyes, was a bullet hole. +The man had probably been dead for a day, at least for a good many +hours. + +The cattleman had no doubt that it was Horikawa. His picture, a good +snapshot taken by a former employer at a picnic where the Japanese had +served the luncheon, had appeared in all the papers and on handbills +sent out by James Cunningham, Junior. There was a scar, Y-shaped and +ragged, just above the left eye, that made identification easy. + +Kirby stepped to the window of the living-room and called to his friend. + +"Want me to help you gather the loot?" chaffed Cole. + +"Serious business, old man," Kirby told him, and the look on his face +backed the words. + +Sanborn swung across to the window and came through. + +"What is it?" he asked quickly. + +"I've found Horikawa." + +"Found him--where?" + +The eyes of the men met and Cole guessed that grim tragedy was in the +air. He followed Kirby to the bedroom. + +"God!" he exclaimed. + +His gaze was riveted to the bloodless, yellow face of the Oriental. +Presently he broke the silence to speak again. + +"The same crowd that killed Cunningham must 'a' done this, too." + +"Prob'ly." + +"Sure they must. Same way exactly." + +"Unless tyin' him up here was an afterthought--to make it look like the +other," suggested Lane. He added, after a moment, "Or for revenge, +because Horikawa killed my uncle. If he did, fate couldn't have sent a +retribution more exactly just." + +"Sho, that's a heap unlikely. You'd have to figure there were _two_ +men that are Apache killers, both connected with this case, both with +minds just alike, one of 'em a Jap an' the other prob'ly a white man. +A hundred to one shot, I'd call it. No, sir. Chances are the same man +bossed both jobs." + +"Yes," agreed Kirby. "The odds are all that way." + +He stepped closer and looked at the greenish-yellow flesh. "May have +been dead a couple o' days," he continued. + +"What was the sense in killin' him? What for? How did he come into +it?" Cole's boyish face wrinkled in perplexity. "I don't make head or +tail of this thing. Cunningham's enemies couldn't be his enemies, too, +do you reckon?" + +"More likely he knew too much an' had to be got out of the road." + +"Yes, but--" Sanborn stopped, frowning, while he worked out what he +had to say. "He wasn't killed right after yore uncle. Where was he +while the police were huntin' for him everywhere? If he knew somethin' +why didn't he come to bat with it? What was he waitin' for? An' if +the folks that finally bumped him off knew he didn't aim to tell what +he knew, whyfor did they figure they had to get rid of him?" + +"I can't answer your questions right off the reel, Cole. Mebbe I could +guess at one or two answers, but they likely wouldn't be right. F'r +instance, I could guess that he was here in this room from the time my +uncle was killed till he met his own death." + +"In this room?" + +"In these apartments. Never left 'em, most likely. What's more, some +one knew he was here an' kept him supplied with the daily papers." + +"Who?" + +"If I could tell you that I could tell you who killed him," answered +Kirby with a grim, mirthless smile. + +"How do you know all that?" + +Lane told him of the mute testimony of the newspapers in the +living-room. "Some one brought those papers to him every day," he +added. + +"And then killed him. Does that look reasonable to you?" + +"We don't know the circumstances. Say, to make a long shot, that the +Jap had been hired to kill my uncle by this other man, and say he was +beginnin' to get ugly an' make threats. Or say Horikawa knew about the +killin' of my uncle an' was hired by the other man to keep away. Then +he learns from the papers that he's suspected, an' he gets anxious to +go to the police with what he knows. Wouldn't there be reason enough +then to kill him? The other man would have to do it to save himself." + +"I reckon." Cole harked back to a preceding suggestion. "The revenge +theory won't hold water. If some friend of yore uncle knew the Jap had +killed him he'd sick the law on him. He wouldn't pull off any private +execution like this." + +Kirby accepted this. "That's true. There's another possibility. +We've been forgettin' the two thousand dollars my uncle drew from the +bank the day he was killed. If Horikawa an' some one else are guilty +of the murder an' the theft, they might have quarreled later over the +money. Perhaps the accomplice saw a chance to get away with the whole +of it by gettin' rid of Horikawa." + +"Mebbeso. By what you tell me yore uncle was a big, two-fisted +scrapper. It was a two-man job to handle him. This li'l' Jap never in +the world did it alone. What it gets back to is that he was prob'ly in +on it an' later for some reason his pardner gunned him." + +"Well, we'd better telephone for the police an' let them do some of the +worryin'." + +Kirby stepped into the living-room, followed by his friend. He was +about to reach for the receiver when an exclamation stopped him. +Sanborn was standing before a small writing-desk, of which he had just +let down the top. He had lifted idly a piece of blotting-paper and was +gazing down at a sheet of paper with writing on it. + +"Looky here, Kirby," he called. + +In three strides Lane was beside him. His eyes, too, fastened on the +sheet and found there the pot-hooks we have learned to associate with +Chinese and Japanese chirography. + +"Shows he'd been makin' himself at home," the champion rough rider said. + +Lane picked up the paper. There were two or three sheets of the +writing. "Might be a letter to his folks--or it might be--" His +sentence flickered out. He was thinking. "I reckon I'll take this +along with me an' have it translated, Cole." + +He put the sheets in his pocket after he had folded them. "You never +can tell. I might as well know what this Horikawa was thinkin' about +first off as the police. There's just an off chance he might 'a' seen +Rose that night an' tells about it here." + +A moment later he was telephoning to the City Hall for the police. + +There was the sound of a key in the outer door. It opened, and the +janitor of the Paradox stood in the doorway. + +"What you do here?" asked the little Japanese quickly. + +"We came in through the window," explained Kirby. "Thought mebbe the +man that killed my uncle slipped in here." + +"I hear you talk. I come in. You no business here." + +"True enough, Shibo. But we're not burglars an' we're here. Lucky we +are too. We've found somethin'." + +"Mr. Jennings he in Chicago. He no like you here." + +"I want to show you somethin', Shibo. Come." + +Kirby led the way into the bedroom. Shibo looked at his countryman +without a muscle of his impassive face twitching. + +"Some one killum plenty dead," he said evenly. + +"Quite plenty," Kirby agreed, watching his imperturbable Oriental face. + +The cattleman admitted to himself that what he did not know about +Japanese habits of mind would fill a great many books. + + + + +CHAPTER XXI + +JAMES LOSES HIS TEMPER + +Cole grinned whimsically at his friend. + +"Do we light out now or wait for the cops?" he asked. + +"We wait. They'd probably find out, anyhow, that we'd been here." + +Five minutes later a patrol wagon clanged up to the Paradox. A +sergeant of police and two plainclothes men took the elevator. The +sergeant, heading the party, stopped in the doorway of the apartment +and let a hard, hostile eye travel up and down Lane's six feet. + +"Oh, it's you," he said suspiciously. + +Kirby smiled. "That's right, officer. We've met before, haven't we?" + +They had. The sergeant was the man who had arrested him at the +coroner's inquest. It had annoyed him that the authorities had later +released the prisoner on bond. + +"Have you touched the body or moved anything since you came?" the +sergeant demanded. + +"No, sir, to both questions, except the telephone when I used it to +reach headquarters." + +The officer made no answer. He and the detectives went into the +bedroom, examined the dead valet's position and clothes, made a tour of +the rooms, and came back to Lane. + +"Who's your friend?" asked the sergeant superciliously. + +"His name is Cole Sanborn." + +"The champion bronco buster?" + +"Yes." + +The sergeant looked at Sanborn with increased respect. His eyes went +back to Kirby sullenly. + +"What you doing here?" + +"We were in my uncle's apartment lookin' things over. We stepped out +on the fire escape an' happened to notice this window here was open a +little. It just came over me that mebbe we might discover some +evidence here. So I got in by the window, saw the body of the Jap, an' +called my friend." + +"Some one hire you to hunt up evidence?" the officer wanted to know +with heavy sarcasm. + +"I hired myself. My good name is involved. I'm goin' to see the +murderer is brought to justice." + +"You are, eh?" + +"Yes." + +"Well, I'll say you could find him if anybody could." + +"You're entitled to your opinion, sergeant, just as I am to mine, but +before we're through with this case you'll have to admit you've been +wrong." + +Lane turned to his friend. "We'll go now, Cole, if you're ready." + +The sergeant glared at this cool customer who refused to be appalled at +the position in which he stood. He had half a mind to arrest the man +again on the spot, but he was not sure enough of his ground. Not very +long since he had missed a promotion by being overzealous. He did not +want to make the same mistake twice. + +The Wyoming men walked across to Seventeenth Street and down it to the +Equitable Building. James Cunningham was in his office. + +He looked up as they entered, a cold smile on his lips. + +"Ah, my energetic cousin," he said, with his habitual touch of irony. +"What's in the wind now?" + +Kirby told him. Instantly James became grave. His irony vanished. In +his face was a flicker almost of consternation at this follow-up +murder. He might have been asking himself how much more trouble was +coming. + +"We'll get the writing translated. You have it with you?" he said. + +His eyes ran over the pages Lane handed him. "I know a Jap we can get +to read it for us, a reliable man, one who won't talk if we ask him not +to." + +The broker's desk buzzer rang. He talked for a moment over the +telephone, then hung up again. + +"Sorry," Cunningham said, "I'm going to be busy for an hour or two. +Going to lunch with Miss Phyllis Harriman. She was Uncle James's +fiancée, perhaps you know. There are some affairs of the estate to be +arranged. I wonder if you could come back later this afternoon. Say +about four o'clock. We'll take up then the business of the +translation. I'll get in touch with a Japanese in the meantime." + +"Suits me. Shall I leave the writing here?" + +"Yes, if you will. Doesn't matter, of course, but since we have it +I'll put it in the safe." + +"How's the arm?" Kirby asked, glancing at the sling his cousin wore. + +"Only sprained. The doctor thinks I must have twisted it badly as I +fell. I couldn't sleep a wink all night. The damned thing pained so." + +James looked as though he had not slept well. His eyes were shadowed +and careworn. + +They walked together as far as the outer office. A slender, dark young +woman, beautifully gowned, was waiting there. James introduced her to +his cousin and Sanborn as Miss Harriman. She was, Kirby knew at once, +the original of the photograph he had seen in his uncle's rooms. + +Miss Harriman was a vision of sheathed loveliness. The dark, +long-lashed eyes looked out at Kirby with appealing wistfulness. When +she moved, the soft lines of her body took on a sinuous grace. From +her personality there seemed to emanate an enticing aura of sex mystery. + +She gave Kirby her little gloved hand. "I'm glad to meet you, Mr. +Lane," she said, smiling at him. "I've heard all sorts of good things +about you from James--and Jack." + +She did not offer her hand to Sanborn, perhaps because she was busy +buttoning one of the long gloves. Instead, she gave him a flash of her +eyes and a nod of the carefully coiffured head. + +Kirby said the proper things, but he said them with a mind divided. +For his nostrils were inhaling again the violet perfume that associated +itself with his first visit to his uncle's apartment. He did not +start. His eyes did not betray him. His face could be wooden on +occasion, and it told no stories now. But his mind was filled with +racing thoughts. Had Phyllis Harriman been the woman Rose had met on +the stairs? What had she been doing in Cunningham's room? Who was the +man with her? What secret connected with his uncle's death lay hidden +back of the limpid innocence of those dark, shadowed eyes? She was one +of those women who are forever a tantalizing mystery to men. What was +she like behind the inscrutable, charming mask of her face? + +Lane carried this preoccupation with him throughout the afternoon. It +was still in the hinterland of his thoughts when he returned to his +cousin's office. + +His entrance was upon a scene of agitated storm. His cousin was in the +outer office facing a clerk. In his eyes there was a cold fury of +anger that surprised Kirby. He had known James always as +self-restrained to the point of chilliness. Now his anger seemed to +leap out and strike savagely. + +"Gross incompetence and negligence, Hudson. You are discharged, sir. +I'll not have you in my employ an hour longer. A man I have trusted +and found wholly unworthy." + +"I'm sorry, Mr. Cunningham," the clerk said humbly. "I don't see how I +lost the paper, if I did, sir. I was very careful when I took the +deeds and leases out of the safe. It seems hardly possible--" + +"But you lost it. Nobody else could have done it. I don't want +excuses. You can go, sir." Cunningham turned abruptly to his cousin. +"The sheets of paper with the Japanese writing have been lost. This +man, by some piece of inexcusable carelessness, took them with a bundle +of other documents to my lawyer's office. He must have taken them. +They were lying with the others. Now they can't be found anywhere." + +"Have you 'phoned to your lawyer?" asked Kirby. + +"'Phoned and been in person. They are nowhere to be found. They ought +to turn up somewhere. This clerk probably dropped them. I've sent an +advertisement to the afternoon papers." + +Kirby was taken aback at this unexpected mischance, but there was no +use wasting nerve energy in useless fretting. He regretted having left +the papers with James, for he felt that in them might be the key to the +mystery of the Cunningham case. But he had no doubt that his cousin +was more distressed about the loss than he was. He comforted himself +with the reflection that a thorough search would probably restore them, +anyhow. + +He asked Hudson a few questions and had the man show them exactly where +he had picked up the papers he took to the lawyer. James listened, his +anger still simmering. + +Kirby took his cousin by the arm and led him into the inner office. + +"Frankly, James, I think you were partly to blame," he said. "You must +have laid the writing very close in the safe to the other papers. +Hadn't you better give Hudson another chance before you fire him?" His +disarming smile robbed both the criticism and the suggestion of any +offense they might otherwise have had. + +In the end he persuaded Cunningham to withdraw his discharge of the +clerk. + +"He doesn't deserve it," James grumbled. "He's maybe spoiled our +chance of laying hands on the man who killed Uncle. I can't get over +my disappointment." + +"Don't worry, old man," Lane said quietly. "We're goin' to rope an' +hogtie that wolf even if Horikawa can't point him out to us with his +dead hand." + +Cunningham looked at him, and again the faint, ironic smile of +admiration was in evidence. "You're confident, Kirby." + +"Why wouldn't I be? With you an' Rose McLean an' Cole Sanborn an' I +all followin' the fellow's trail, he can't double an' twist enough to +make a getaway. We'll ride him down sure." + +"Maybe we will and maybe we won't," the oil broker replied. "I'd give +odds that he goes scot free." + +"Then you'd lose," Kirby answered, smiling easily. + + + + +CHAPTER XXII + +"ARE YOU WITH ME OR AGAINST ME?" + +Miss Phyllis Harriman had breakfasted earlier than usual. Her +luxuriant, blue-black hair had been dressed and she was debating the +important question as to what gown she would wear. The business of her +life was to make an effective carnal appeal, and she had a very sure +sense of how to accomplish this. + +A maid entered with a card, at which Miss Harriman glanced indolently. +A smile twitched at the corners of her mouth, but it was not wholly one +of amusement. In the dark eyes a hint of adventure sparked. Her +pulses beat with a little glow of triumph. For this young woman was of +the born coquettes. She could no more resist alluring an attractive +man and playing with him to his subsequent mental discomfort than she +could refrain from bridge drives and dinner dances. This Wild Man from +Wyoming, so strong of stride, so quietly competent, whose sardonic +glance had taken her in so directly and so keenly, was a foeman worthy +of her weapons. + +"Good gracious!" she murmured, "does he usually call in the middle of +the night, I wonder? And does he really expect me to see him now?" + +The maid waited. She had long ago discovered that Miss Phyllis did not +always regulate her actions by her words. + +"Take him into the red room and tell him I'll be down in a minute," +Miss Harriman decided. + +After which there was swift action in the lady's boudoir. + +The red room was scarcely more than a cozy alcove set off the main +reception-room, but it had a note of warmth, of friendly and seductive +intimacy. Its walls whispered of tête-à-têtes, the cushions hinted at +interesting secrets they were forever debarred from telling. In short, +when Miss Harriman was present, it seemed, no less than the clothes she +wore, an expression of her personality. + +After a very few minutes Miss Phyllis sauntered into the room and gave +her hand to the man who rose at her entrance. She was simply but +expensively gowned. Her smile was warm for Kirby. It told him, with a +touch of shy reluctance, that he was the one man in the world she would +rather meet just now. He did not know that it would have carried the +same message to any one of half a dozen men. + +"I'm so glad you came to see me," she said, just as though she were in +the habit of receiving young men at eleven in the morning. "Of course +I want to know you better. James thinks so much of you." + +"And Jack," added Lane, smilingly. + +"Oh, yes. Jack, too," she said, and laughed outright when their eyes +met. + +"I'm sure Jack's very fond of me. He can't help showing it +occasionally." + +"Jack's--impulsive," she explained. "But he's amenable to influence." + +"Of the right sort. I'm sure he would be." + +He found himself the object of a piquant, amused scrutiny under her +long lashes. It came to him that this Paris-gowned, long-limbed young +sylph was more than willing to let him become intrigued by her charms. +But Kirby Lane had not called so early in the day to fall in love. + +"I came to see you, Miss Harriman, about the case," he said. "My good +name is involved. I must clear it. I want you to help me." + +He saw a pulse of excitement flutter in her throat. It seemed to him +that her eyes grew darker, as though some shadow of dread had fallen +over them. The provocative smile vanished. + +"How can _I_ help you?" she asked. + +"If you would answer a few questions--" + +"What questions?" All the softness had gone from her voice. It had +become tense and sharp. + +"Personal ones. About you and my uncle. You were engaged to him, were +you not?" + +"Yes." + +"There wasn't any quarrel between you recently, was there?" + +A flash of apprehension filled her eyes. Then, resolutely, she +banished fear and called to her aid hauteur. + +"There was not, though I quite fail to see how this can concern you, +Mr. Lane." + +"I don't want to distress you," he said gently, "Just now that question +must seem to you a brutal one. Believe me, I don't want to hurt you." + +Her eyes softened, grew wistful and appealing. "I'm sure you don't. +You couldn't. It's all so--so dreadful to think about." There was a +little catch in her throat as the voice broke. "Let's talk of +something more cheerful. I want to forget it all." + +"I'm sure you do. We all want to do that. The surest way to get it +out of our minds is to solve the mystery and find out who is guilty. +That's why I want you to tell me a few things to clear up my mind." + +"But I don't know anything about it--nothing at all. Why should you +come to me?" + +"When did you last see my uncle alive?" + +"What a dreadful question! It was--let me think--in the afternoon--the +day before--" + +"And you parted from him on the best of terms?" + +"Of course." + +He leaned toward her ever so little, his eyes level with hers and +steadily fastened upon her. "That's the last time you saw him--until +you went to his rooms at the Paradox the night he was killed?" + +She had lifted her hand to pat into place an escaping tendril of hair. +The hand remained lifted. The dark eyes froze with horror. They +stared at him, as though held by some dreadful fascination. From her +cheeks the color ebbed. Kirby thought she was going to faint. + +But she did not. A low moan of despair escaped from the ashen lips. +The lifted arm fell heavily to her lap. + +Then Kirby discovered that the two in the red room had become three. +Jack Cunningham was standing in the doorway. + +His glance flashed to Lane accusingly. "What's up? What are you doing +here?" he demanded abruptly. + +The Wyoming man rose. "I've been asking Miss Harriman a question." + +"A question. What business have you to ask her questions?" demanded +Jack hotly. + +His cousin tried a shot in the dark. "I was asking her," he said, his +voice low and even, "about that visit you and she paid to Uncle James's +rooms the night he was killed." + +Kirby knew instantly he had scored a hit. The insolence, the jaunty +confidence, were stricken from him as by a buffet in the face. For a +moment body and mind alike were lax and stunned. Then courage flowed +back into his veins. He came forward, blustering. + +"What do you mean? What visit? It's a damned lie." + +"Is it? Then why is the question such a knockout to you and Miss +Harriman? She almost fainted, and it certainly crumpled you up till +you got second breath." + +Jack flushed angrily. "O' course it shocked her for you to make such a +charge against her. It would frighten any woman. By God, it's an +outrage. You come here and try to browbeat Miss Harriman when she's +alone. You ask her impudent questions, as good as tell her she--she--" + +Kirby's eyes were like a glittering rapier probing for the weakness of +his opponent's defense. "I say that she and you were in the rooms of +Uncle James at 9.50 the evening he was killed. I say that you +concealed the fact at the inquest. Why?" He shot his question at the +other man with the velocity of a bullet. + +Cunningham's lip twitched, his eye wavered. How much did his cousin +know? How much was he merely guessing? + +"Who told you we were there? How do you know it? I don't propose to +answer every wild accusation nor to let Miss Harriman be insulted by +you. Who are you, anyhow? A man accused of killing my uncle, the man +who found his valet dead and is suspected of that crime, too, a fellow +who would be lying behind the bars now if my brother hadn't put up the +money to save the family from disgrace. If we tell all we know, the +police will grab you again double-quick. Yet you have the nerve to +come here and make insinuations against the lady who is mourning my +uncle's death. I've a good mind to 'phone for the police right now." + +"Do," suggested Kirby, smiling. "Then we'll both tell what we know and +perhaps things will clear up a bit." + +It was a bluff pure and simple. He couldn't tell what he knew any more +than his cousin could. The part played by Rose and Esther McLean in +the story barred him from the luxury of truth-telling. Moreover, he +had no real evidence to back his suspicions. But Jack did not know how +strong the restraining influence was. + +"I didn't say I was going to 'phone. I said I'd a jolly good mind to," +Cunningham replied sulkily. + +"I'd advise you not to start anything you can't finish, Jack. I'll +give you one more piece of advice, too. Come clean with what you know. +I'm goin' to find out, anyhow. Make up your mind to that. I'm goin' +through with this job till it's done." + +"You'll pull off your Sherlock-Holmes stuff in jail, then, for I'm +going to ask James to get off your bond," Jack retorted vindictively. + +"As you please about that," Lane said quietly. + +"He'll choose between you or me. I'll be damned if I'll stand for his +keeping a man out of jail to try and fasten on me a murder I didn't do." + +"I haven't said you did it. What I say is that you and Miss Harriman +know somethin' an' are concealin' it. What is it? I'm not a fool. I +don't think you killed Uncle any more than I did. But you an' Miss +Harriman have a secret. Why don't you go to James an' make a clean +breast of it? He'll tell you what to do." + +"The devil he will! I tell you we haven't any secret. We weren't in +Uncle's rooms that night." + +"Can you prove an alibi for the whole evening--both of you?" the range +rider asked curtly. + +"None of your business. We're not in the prisoner's dock. It's you +that is likely to be there," Jack tossed out petulantly. + +Phyllis Harriman had flung herself down to sob with her head in the +pillows. But Kirby noticed that one small pink ear was in the open to +take in the swift sentences passing between the men. + +"I'm intendin' to make it my business," Lane said, his voice ominously +quiet. + +"You're laying up trouble for yourself," Jack warned blackly. "If you +want me for an enemy you're going at this the right way." + +"I'm not lookin' for enemies. What I want is the truth. You're +concealin' it. We'll see if you can make it stick." + +"We're not concealing a thing." + +"Last call for you to show down your cards, Jack. Are you with me or +against me?" asked Kirby. + +"Against you, you meddling fool!" Cunningham burst out in a gust of +fury. "Don't you meddle with my affairs, unless you want trouble right +off the bat. I'm not going to have a Paul Pry nosing around and +hinting slanders about me and Miss Harriman. What do you think I am? +I'll protect my good name and this lady's if I have to do it with a +gun. Don't forget that, Mr. Lane." + +Kirby's steady gaze appraised him coolly. "You're excited an' talkin' +foolishness. I'm not attackin' anybody's good name. I'm lookin' for +the man who killed Uncle James. I'm expectin' to find him. If anybody +stands in the way, I'm liable to run against him." + +The man from Twin Buttes bowed toward the black hair and pink ear of +his hostess. He turned on his heel and walked from the room. + + + + +CHAPTER XXIII + +COUSINS DISAGREE + +It was essential to Kirby's plans that he should be at liberty. If he +should be locked up in prison even for a few days the threads that he +had begun to untangle from the snarl known as the Cunningham mystery +would again be ensnared. He was not sure what action James would take +at his brother's demand that he withdraw from the bond. But Lane had +no desire to embarrass him by forcing the issue. He set about securing +a new bond. + +He was, ten minutes later, in the law offices of Irwin, Foster & +Warren, attorneys who represented the cattle interests in Wyoming with +which Kirby was identified. Foster, a stout, middle-aged man with only +a few locks of gray hair left, heard what the rough rider had to say. + +"I'll wire to Caldwell and to Norman as you suggest, Mr. Lane," he +said. "If they give me instructions to stand back of you, I'll arrange +a new bond as soon as possible." + +"Will it take long? I can't afford to be tied up behind the bars right +now." + +"Not if I can get it accepted. I'll let you know at once." + +Kirby rose. He had finished his business. + +"Just a moment, Mr. Lane." Foster leaned back in his swivel-chair and +looked out of the window. His eyes did not focus on any detail of the +office building opposite. They had the far-away look which denotes a +preoccupied mind. "Ever been to Golden?" he asked at last abruptly, +swinging back in his seat and looking at his client. + +"No. Why?" + +"Golden is the Gretna Green of Denver, you know. When young people +elope they go to Golden. When a couple gets married and doesn't want +it known they choose Golden. Very convenient spot." + +"I'm not figuring on gettin' married right now," the cattleman said, +smiling. + +"Still you might find a visit to the place interesting and useful. I +was there on business a couple of weeks ago." + +The eyes of the men fastened. Lane knew he was being given a hint that +Foster did not want to put more directly. + +"What are the interestin' points of the town?" asked the Twin Buttes +man. + +"Well, sir, there are several. Of course, there's the School of Mines, +and the mountains right back of the town. Gold was discovered there +somewhere about fifty-seven, I think. Used to be the capital of the +territory before Denver found her feet." + +"I'm rather busy." + +"Wouldn't take you long to run over on the interurban." The lawyer +began to gather toward him the papers upon which he had been working +when the client was shown in. He added casually: "I found it quite +amusing to look over the marriage licenses of the last month or two. +Found the names there of some of our prominent citizens. Well, I'll +call you up as soon as I know about the bond." + +Lane was not entirely satisfied with what he had been told, but he knew +that Foster had said all he meant to say. One thing stuck in his mind +as the gist of the hint. The attorney was advising him to go to the +court-house and check up the marriage licenses. + +He walked across to the Equitable Building and dropped in on his cousin +James. Cunningham rose to meet him a bit stiffly. The cattleman knew +that Jack had already been in to see him or had got him on the wire. + +Kirby brushed through any embarrassment there might be and told frankly +why he had come. + +"I've had a sort of row with Jack. Under the circumstances I don't +feel that I ought to let you stay on my bond. It might create +ill-feelin' between you an' him. So I'm arrangin' to have some Wyoming +friends put up whatever's required. You'll understand I haven't any +bad feeling against you, or against him for that matter. You've been +bully all through this thing, an' I'm certainly in your debt." + +"What's the trouble between you about?" asked James. + +"I've found out that he an' Miss Harriman were in Uncle James's rooms +the night he was killed. I want them to come through an' tell what +they know." + +"How did you find that out?" + +The eyes of the oil broker were hard as jade. They looked straight +into those of his cousin. + +"I can't tell you that exactly. Put two an' two together." + +"You mean you _guess_ they were there. You don't _know_ it." + +A warm, friendly smile lit the brown face of the rough rider. He +wanted to remain on good terms with James if he could. "I don't know +it in a legal sense. Morally, I'm convinced of it." + +"Even though they deny it." + +"Practically they admitted rather than denied." + +"Do you think it was quite straight, Kirby, to go to Miss Harriman with +such a trumped-up charge? I don't. I confess I'm surprised at you." +In voice and expression James showed his disappointment. + +"It isn't a trumped-up charge. I wanted to know the truth from her." + +"Why didn't you go to Jack, then?"' + +"I didn't know at that time Jack was the man with her." + +"You don't know it now. You don't know she was there. In point of +fact the idea is ridiculous. You surely don't think for a moment that +she had anything to do with Uncle James's death." + +"No; not in the sense that she helped bring it about. But she knows +somethin' she's hidin'." + +"That's absurd. Your imagination is too active, Kirby." + +"Can't agree with you." Lane met him eye to eye. + +"Grant for the sake of argument that she was in Uncle's room that +night. Your friend Miss Rose McLean was there, too--by her own +confession. When she came to Jack and me with her story, we respected +it. We did not insist on knowing why she was there, and it was of her +own free will she told us. Yet you go to our friend and distress her +by implications that must shock and wound her. Was that generous? Was +it even fair?" + +The cattleman stood convicted at the bar of his own judgment. His +cousins had been magnanimous to Esther and Rose, more so than he had +been to Miss Harriman. Yet, even while he confessed fault, he felt +uneasily that there was a justification he could not quite lay hold of +and put into words. + +"I'm sorry you feel that way, James. Perhaps I was wrong. But you +want to remember that I wasn't askin' about what she knew with any idea +of makin' it public or tellin' the police. I meant to keep it under my +own hat to help run down a cold-blooded murderer." + +"You can't want to run him down any more than we do--and in that 'we' I +include Jack and Miss Harriman as well as myself," the older man +answered gravely. "But I'm sure you're entirely wrong. Miss Harriman +knows nothing about it. If she had she would have confided in us." + +"Perhaps she has confided in Jack." + +"Don't you think that obsession of yours is rather--well, unlikely, to +put it mildly? Analyze it and you'll find you haven't a single +substantial fact to base it on." + +This was true. Yet Kirby's opinion was not changed. He still believed +that Jack and Miss Harriman had been in his uncle's rooms just before +Wild Rose had been there. + +He returned to the subject of the bond. It seemed to him best, he +said, in view of Jack's feeling, to get other bondsmen. He hoped James +would not interpret this to mean that he felt less friendly toward him. + +His cousin bowed, rather formally. "Just as you please. Would you +like the matter arranged this afternoon?" + +Lane looked at his watch. "I haven't heard from my new bondsmen yet. +Besides, I want to go to Golden. Would to-morrow morning suit you?" + +"I dare say." James stifled a yawn. "Did you say you were going to +Golden?" + +"Yes. Some one gave me a tip. I don't know what there's in it, but I +thought I'd have a look at the marriage-license registry." + +Cunningham flashed a startled glance at him that asked a peremptory +question. "Probably waste of time. I've been in the oil business too +long to pay any attention to tips." + +"Expect you're right, but I'll trot out there, anyhow. Never can tell." + +"What do you expect to find among the marriage licenses?" + +"Haven't the slightest idea. I'll tell you tomorrow what I do find." + +James made one dry, ironic comment. "I rather think you have too much +imagination for sleuthing. You let your wild fancies gallop away with +you. If I were you I'd go back to bronco busting." + +Kirby laughed. "Dare say you're right. I'll take your advice after we +get the man we're after." + + + + +CHAPTER XXIV + +REVEREND NICODEMUS RANKIN FORGETS AND REMEMBERS + +By appointment Kirby met Rose at Graham & Osborne's for luncheon. She +was waiting in the tower room for him. + +"Where's Esther?" he asked. + +Rose mustered a faint smile. "She's eating lunch with a handsomer man." + +"You can't throw a stone up Sixteenth Street without hittin' one," he +answered gayly. + +They followed the head waitress to a small table for two by a window. +Rose walked with the buoyant rhythm of perfect health. Her friend +noticed, as he had often done before, that she had the grace of +movement which is a corollary to muscles under perfect response. +Seated across the table from her, he marveled once more at the miracle +of her soft skin and the peach bloom of her complexion. Many times she +had known the sting of sleet and the splash of sun on her face. Yet +incredibly her cheeks did not tan nor lose their fineness. + +"You haven't told me who this handsomer man is," Kirby suggested. + +"Cole Sanborn." She flushed a little, but looked straight at him. +"Have you told him--about Esther?" + +"No. But from somethin' he said I think he guesses." + +Her eyes softened. "He's awf'ly good to Esther. I can see he likes +her and she likes him. Why couldn't she have met him first? She's so +lovable." Tears brimmed to her eyes. "That's been her ruin. She was +ready to believe any man who said he cared for her. Even when she was +a little bit of a trick when people liked her, she was grateful to them +for it and kinda snuggled up to them. I never saw a more cuddly baby." + +"Have you found out anything more yet about--the man?" he asked, his +voice low and gentle. + +"No. It's queer how stubborn she can be for all her softness. But she +almost told me last night. I'll find out in a day or two now. Of +course it was your uncle. The note I found was really an admission of +guilt. Your cousins feel that some settlement ought to be made on +Esther out of the estate. I've been trying to decide what would be +fair. Will you think it over and let me know what seems right to you?" + +The waitress came, took their order, and departed. + +"I'm goin' out to Golden to-day on a queer wild-goose chase," Kirby +said. "A man gave me a hint. He didn't want to tell me the +information out an' out, whatever it is. I don't know why. What he +said was for me to go to Golden an' look over the list of marriage +licenses for the past month or two." + +Her eyes flashed an eager question at him. "You don't suppose--it +couldn't be that Esther was married to your uncle secretly and that she +promised not to tell." + +"I hadn't thought of that. It might be." His eyes narrowed in +concentration. "And if Jack an' Miss Harriman had just found it out, +that would explain why they called on Uncle James the night he was +killed. Do you want to go to Golden with me?" + +She nodded, eagerly. "Oh, I do, Kirby! I believe we'll find out +something there. Shall we go by the interurban?" + +"As soon as we're through lunch." + +They walked across along Arapahoe Street to the loop and took a Golden +car. It carried them by the viaduct over the Platte River and through +the North Side into the country. They rushed past truck farms and +apple orchards into the rolling fields beyond, where the crops had been +harvested and the land lay in the mellow bath of a summer sun. They +swung round Table Mountain into the little town huddled at the foot of +Lookout. + +From the terminus of the line they walked up the steep hill to the +court-house. An automobile, new and of an expensive make, was standing +by the curb. Just as Kirby and Rose reached the machine a young man +ran down the steps of the court-house and stepped into the car. The +man was Jack Cunningham. He took the driver's seat. Beside him was a +veiled young woman in a leather motoring-coat. In spite of the veil +Lane recognized her as Phyllis Harriman. + +Cunningham caught sight of his cousin and anger flushed his face. +Without a word he reached for the starter, threw in the clutch, and +gave the engine gas. + +The rough rider watched the car move down the hill. "I've made a +mistake," he told his companion. "I told James I was comin' here +to-day. He let Jack know, an' he's beat us to it." + +"What harm will that do?" asked Rose. "The information will be there +for us, too, won't it?" + +"Mebbe it will. Mebbe it won't. We'll soon find out." + +Rose caught her friend's arm as they were passing through the hall. +"Kirby, do you suppose your cousins really know Esther was married to +your uncle? Do you think they can be trying to keep it quiet so she +can't claim the estate?" + +He stopped in his stride. James had deprecated the idea of his coming +to Golden and had ridiculed the possibility of his unearthing any +information of value. Yet he must have called up Jack as soon as he +had left the office. And Jack had hurried to the town within the hour. +It might be that. Rose had hit on the reason for the hostility he felt +on the part of both cousins to his activities. There was something +they did not want brought to the light of day. What more potent reason +could there be for concealment than their desire to keep the fortune of +the millionaire in their own hands? + +"I shouldn't wonder if you haven't rung the bull's-eye, pardner," he +told her. "We ought to know right soon now." + +The clerk in the recorder's office smiled when Kirby said he wanted to +look through the license register. He swung the book round toward them. + +"Help yourself. What's the big idea? Another young fellow was in +lookin' at the licenses only a minute ago." + +The clerk moved over to another desk where he was typewriting. His +back was turned toward them. Kirby turned the pages of the book. He +and Rose looked them over together. They covered the record for three +months without finding anything of interest. Patiently they went over +the leaves again. + +Kirby stepped over to the clerk. "Do you happen to remember whether +you made out any license application for a man named Cunningham any +time in the past two months?" he asked. + +"For a marriage license?" + +"Yes." + +"Don't think I have. Can't remember the name. I was on my vacation +two weeks. Maybe it was then. Can't you find it in the book?" + +"No." + +"Know the date?" + +Kirby shook his head. + +The voice of Rose, high with excitement, came from across the room. +"Looky here." + +Her finger ran down the book, close to the binding. A page had been +cut out with a sharp penknife, so deftly that they had passed it twice +without noticing. + +"Who did that?" demanded the clerk angrily. + +"Probably the young man who was just in here. His name is Jack +Cunningham," Lane answered. + +"What in time did he want to do that for? If he wanted it why didn't +he take a copy? The boss'll give me Hail Columbia. That's what a +fellow gets for being accommodating." + +"He did it so that we wouldn't see it. Is there any other record kept +of the marriages?" + +"Sure there is. The preachers and the judges who perform marriages +have to turn back to us the certificate within thirty days and we make +a record of it." + +"Can I see that book?" + +"I'll do the lookin'," the clerk said shortly. "Whose marriage is it? +And what date?" + +Lane gave such information as he could. The clerk mellowed when Rose +told him it was very important to her, as officials have a way of doing +when charming young women smile at them. But he found no record of any +marriage of which they knew either of the contracting parties. + +"Once in a while some preacher forgets to turn in his certificate," the +clerk said as he closed the book. "Old Rankin is the worst that way. +He forgets. You might look him up." + +Kirby slipped the clerk a dollar and turned away. Rankin was a forlorn +hope, but he and Rose walked out to a little house in the suburbs where +the preacher lived. + +He was a friendly, white-haired old gentleman, and he made them very +much at home under the impression they had come to get married. A +slight deafness was in part responsible for this mistake. + +"May I see the license?" he asked after Kirby had introduced himself +and Rose. + +For a moment the cattleman was puzzled. His eye went to Rose, seeking +information. A wave of color was sweeping into her soft cheeks. Then +Lane knew why, and the hot blood mounted into his own. His gaze +hurriedly and in embarrassment fled from Miss McLean's face. + +"You don't quite understand," he explained to the Reverend Nicodemus +Rankin. "We've come only to--to inquire about some one you married--or +rather to find out if you did marry him. His name is Cunningham. We +have reason to think he was married a month or two ago. But we're not +sure." + +The old man stroked his silken white hair. At times his mind was a +little hazy. There were moments when a slight fog seemed to descend +upon it. His memory in recent years had been quite treacherous. Not +long since he had forgotten to attend a funeral at which he was to +conduct the services. + +"I dare say I did marry your friend. A good many young people come to +me. The license clerk at the court is very kind. He sends them here." + +"The man's name was Cunningham--James Cunningham," Kirby prompted. + +"Cunningham--Cunningham! Seems to me I did marry a man by that name. +Come to think of it I'm sure I did. To a beautiful young woman," the +old preacher said. + +"Do you recall her name? I mean her maiden name," Rose said, +excitement drumming in her veins. + +"No-o. I don't seem quite to remember it. But she was a charming +young woman--very attractive, I might say. My wife and daughter +mentioned it afterward." + +"May I ask if Mrs. Rankin and your daughter are at present in the +house?" asked Lane. + +"Unfortunately, no. They have gone to spend a few days visiting in +Idaho Springs. If they were here they could reënforce any gaps in my +memory, which is not all it once was." The Reverend Nicodemus smiled +apologetically. + +"Was her name Esther McLean?" asked Rose eagerly. + +The old parson brought his mind back to the subject with a visible +effort. "Oh, yes! The young lady who was married to your friend--" +He paused, at a loss for the name. + +"--Cunningham," Kirby supplied. + +"Quite so--Cunningham. Well, it might have been McLeod. I--I rather +think it did sound like that." + +"McLean. Miss Esther McLean," corrected the cattleman patiently. + +"The fact is I'm not sure about the young lady's name. Mother and +Ellen would know. I'm sorry they're not here. They talked afterward +about how pleasant the young lady was." + +"Was she fair or dark?" + +The old preacher smiled at Rose benevolently. "I really don't know. +I'm afraid, my dear young woman, that I'm a very unreliable witness." + +"You don't recollect any details. For instance, how did they come and +did they bring witnesses with them?" + +"Yes. I was working in the garden--weeding the strawberry-patch, I +think. They came in an automobile alone. Wife and daughter were the +witnesses." + +"Do you know when Mrs. Rankin and your daughter will be home?" + +"By next Tuesday, at the latest. Perhaps you can call again. I trust +there was nothing irregular about the marriage." + +"Not so far as we know. We were anxious about the young lady. She is +a friend of ours," Kirby said. "By the way, the certificate of the +marriage is not on record at the court-house. Are you sure you +returned it to the clerk?" + +"Bless my soul, did I forget that again?" exclaimed the Reverend +Nicodemus. "I'll have my daughter look for the paper as soon as she +returns." + +"You couldn't find it now, I suppose," Lane suggested. + +The old gentleman searched rather helplessly among the papers +overflowing his desk. He did not succeed in finding what he looked for. + +Kirby and Rose walked back to the court-house. They had omitted to +arrange with the license clerk to forward a copy of the marriage +certificate when it was filed. + +The rough rider left the required fee with the clerk and a bank note to +keep his memory jogged up. + +"Soon as Mrs. Rankin comes home, will you call her up and remind her +about lookin' for the certificate?" he asked. + +"Sure I will. I've got to have it, anyhow, for the records. And say, +what's the name of that fresh guy who came in here and cut the page +from the register? I'm going after him right, believe you me." + +Kirby gave his cousin's name and address. He had no animosity whatever +toward him, but he thought it just as well to keep Jack's mind occupied +with troubles of his own during the next few days. Very likely then he +would not get in his way so much. + +They were no sooner clear of the court-house than Rose burst out with +what was in her mind. + +"It's just as I thought. Your uncle married Esther and got her to keep +quiet about the marriage for some reason. Your cousins are trying to +destroy the evidence so that the estate won't all go to her. I'll bet +we get an offer of a compromise right away." + +"Mebbe." Kirby's mind was not quite satisfied. Somehow, this affair +did not seem to fit in with what he knew of his uncle. Cunningham had +been always bold and audacious in his actions, a law to himself. Yet +if he were going to marry the stenographer he had wronged, he might do +it secretly to conceal the date on account of the unborn child. + +The eyes of Rose gleamed with determination. Her jaw set. "I'm gonna +get the whole story out of Esther soon as I get back to town," she said +doggedly. + +But she did not--nor for many days after. + + + + +CHAPTER XXV + +A CONFERENCE OF THREE + +Kirby heard his name being paged as he entered his hotel. + +"Wanted at the telephone, sir," the bell-hop told him. + +He stepped into a booth and the voice of Rose came excited and +tremulous. It was less than ten minutes since he had left her at the +door of her boarding-house. + +"Something's happened, Kirby. Can you come here--right away?" she +begged. Then, unable to keep back any longer the cry of her heart, she +broke out with her tidings. "Esther's gone." + +"Gone where?" he asked. + +"I don't know. She left a letter for me. If you'll come to the +house--Or shall I meet you downtown?" + +"I'll come. Be there in five minutes." + +He more than kept his word. Catching a car on the run at the nearest +corner, he dropped from it as it crossed Broadway and walked to +Cherokee. + +Rose opened the house door when he rang the bell and drew him into the +parlor. With a catch of the breath she blurted out again the news. + +"She was gone when I got home. I found--this letter." Her eyes sought +his for comfort. He read what Esther had written. + + +I can't stand it any longer, dearest. I'm going away where I won't +disgrace you. Don't look for me. I'll be taken care of +till--afterward. + +And, oh, Rose, don't hate me, darling. Even if I am wicked, love me. +And try some time to forgive your little sister. + +ESTHER + + +"Did anybody see her go?" Lane asked. + +"I don't know. I haven't talked with anybody but the landlady. She +hasn't seen Esther this afternoon, she said. I didn't let on I was +worried." + +"What does she mean that she'll be taken care of till afterward? +Who'll take care of her?" + +"I don't know." + +"Have you any idea where she would be likely to go--whether there is +any friend who might have offered her a temporary home?" + +"No." Rose considered. "She wouldn't go to any old friend. You see +she's--awf'ly sensitive. And she'd have to explain. Besides, I'd find +out she was there." + +"That's true." + +"I ought never to have left her last spring. I should have found work +here and not gone gallumpin' all over the country." Her chin trembled. +She was on the verge of tears. + +"Nonsense. You can't blame yourself. We each have to live our own +life. How could you tell what was comin'? Betcha we find her right +away. Mebbe she let out somethin' to Cole. She doesn't look to me +like a girl who could play out a stiff hand alone." + +"She isn't. She's dependent--always has leaned on some one." Rose had +regained control of herself quickly. She stood straight and lissom, +mistress of her emotions, but her clear cheeks were colorless. "I'm +worried, Kirby, dreadfully. Esther hasn't the pluck to go through +alone. She--she might--" + +No need to finish the sentence. Her friend understood. + +His strong hand went out and closed on hers. "Don't you worry, +pardner. It'll be all right. We'll find her an' take her somewhere +into the country where folks don't know." + +Faintly she smiled. "You're such a comfort." + +"Sho! We'll get busy right away. Denver ain't such a big town that we +can't find one li'l' girl _muy pronto_." His voice was steady and +cheerful, almost light. "First off, we'll check up an' see if any one +saw her go. What did she take with her?" + +"One suitcase." + +"How much money? Can you make a guess?" + +"She had only a dollar or two in her purse. She had money in the bank. +I'll find out if she drew any." + +"Lemme do that. I'll find Cole, too. You make some inquiries round +the house here, kinda easy-like. Meet you here at six o'clock. Or +mebbe we'd better meet downtown. Say at the Boston Chop House." + +Cole was with Kirby when he met Rose at the restaurant. + +"We'll go in an' get somethin' to eat," Lane said. "We'll talk while +we're waitin'. That way we'll not lose any time." + +They found a booth and Kirby ordered the dinner. As soon as the waiter +had gone he talked business. + +"Find out anything, Rose?" + +"Yes. A girl at the house who works for the telephone company saw +Esther get into an automobile a block and a half from the house. A man +helped her in. I pretended to laugh and asked her what sort of a +lookin' man he was. She said he was a live one, well-dressed and +handsome. The car was a limousine." + +"Good. Fits in with what I found out," Kirby said. "The bank was +closed, but I got in the back door by pounding at it. The teller at +the K-R window was still there, working at his accounts. Esther did +not draw any money to-day or yesterday." + +"Why do you say good?" Cole wanted to know. "Is it good for our li'l' +friend to be in the power of this good-lookin' guy with the big car, +an' her without a bean of her own? I don't get it. Who is the man? +Howcome she to go with him? She sure had no notion of goin' when we +was eatin' together an hour before." + +"I don't see who he could be. She never spoke of such a man to me," +Rose murmured, greatly troubled. + +"I don't reckon she was very well acquainted with him," Lane said, +shaking out his napkin. + +The talk was suspended while he ladled the soup into the plates and the +waiter served them. Not till the man's back was turned did Rose fling +out her hot challenge to Kirby. + +"Why would she go with a man she didn't know very well? Where would +she be going with him?" The flame in her cheeks, the stab of her eyes, +dared him to think lightly of her sister. It was in her temperament to +face all slights with high spirit. + +His smile reassured. "Mebbe she didn't know where she was goin'. That +was his business. Let's work this out from the beginnin'." + +Kirby passed Rose the crackers. She rejected them with a little +gesture of impatience. + +"I don't want to eat. I'm not hungry." + +Lane's kind eyes met hers steadily. "But you must eat. You'll be of +no help if you don't keep up your strength." + +Rather than fight it out, she gave up. + +"We know right off the reel Esther didn't plan this," he continued. +"Before we knew the man was in it you felt it wasn't like her to run +away alone, Rose. Didn't you?" + +"Yes." + +"She hadn't drawn any money from her account, So she wasn't makin' any +plans to go. The man worked it out an' then persuaded Esther. It's no +surprise to me to find a Mr. Man in this thing. I'd begun to guess it +before you told me. The question is, what man." + +The girl's eyes jumped to his. She began to see what he was working +toward. Cole, entirely in the dark, stirred uneasily. His mind was +still busy with a possible love tangle. + +"What man or men would benefit most if Esther disappeared for a time? +We know of two it might help," the man from Twin Buttes went on. + +"Your cousins!" she cried, almost in a whisper. + +"Yes, if we've guessed rightly that Esther was married to Uncle James. +That would make her his heir. With her in their hands and away from +us, they would be in a position to drive a better bargain. They know +that we're hot on the trail of the marriage. If they're kind to +her--and no doubt they will be--they can get anything they want from +her in the way of an agreement as to the property. Looks to me like +the fine Italian hand of Cousin James. We know Jack wasn't the man. +He was busy at Golden right then. Kinda leaves James in the spotlight, +doesn't it?" + +Rose drew a long, deep breath. "I'm so glad! I was afraid--thought +maybe she would do something desperate. But if she's being looked +after it's a lot better. We'll soon have her back. Until then they'll +be good to her, won't they?" + +"They'll treat her like a queen. Don't you see? That's their game. +They don't want a lawsuit. They're playin' for a compromise." + +Kirby leaned back and smiled expansively on his audience of two. He +began to fancy himself tremendously as a detective. + + + + +CHAPTER XXVI + +CUTTING TRAIL + +Kirby's efforts to find James Cunningham after dinner were not +successful. He was not at his rooms, at the Country Club, or at his +office. Nor was he at a dinner dance where he was among the invited +guests, a bit of information Rose had gathered from the society columns +of the previous Sunday's "News." His cousin reached him at last next +morning by means of his business telephone. An appointment was +arranged in five sentences. + +If James felt any surprise at the delegation of three which filed in to +see him he gave no sign of it. He bowed, sent for more chairs from the +outer office, and seated his visitors, all with a dry, close smile +hovering on the edge of irony. + +Kirby cut short preliminaries. "You know why we're here and what we +want," he said abruptly. + +"I confess I don't, unless to report on your trip to Golden," James +countered suavely. "Was it successful, may I ask?" + +"If it wasn't, you know why it wasn't." + +The eyes of the two men met. Neither of them dodged in the least or +gave to the rigor of the other's gaze. + +"Referring to Jack's expedition, I presume." + +"You don't deny it, then." + +"My dear Kirby, I never waste breath in useless denials. You saw Jack. +Therefore he must have been there." + +"He was. He brought away with him a page cut from the marriage-license +registry." + +James lifted a hand of protest. "Ah! There we come to the parting of +the ways. I can't concede that." + +"No, but you know it's true," said Kirby bluntly. + +"Not at all. He surely would not mutilate a public record." + +"We needn't go into that. He did. But that didn't keep us from +getting the information we wanted." + +"No?" James murmured the monosyllable with polite indifference. But +he watched, lynx-eyed, the strong, brown face of his cousin. + +"We know now the secret you wanted to keep hidden in the court-house at +Golden." + +"I grant you energy in ferreting out other people's business, dear +cousin. If you 're always so--so altruistic, let us say--I wonder how +you have time to devote to your own affairs." + +"We intend to see justice done Miss Esther McLean--Mrs. James +Cunningham, I should say. You can't move us from that intention or--" + +The expression on the oil broker's face was either astonishment or the +best counterfeit of it Kirby had ever seen. + +"I beg pardon. _What_ did you say?" + +"I told you, what you already know, that Esther McLean was married to +Uncle James at Golden on the twenty-first of last month." + +"Miss McLean and Uncle James married--at Golden--on the twenty-first of +last month? Are you sure?" + +"Aren't you? What did you think we found out?" + +Cunningham's eyes narrowed. A film of caution spread over them. "Oh, +I don't know. You're so enterprising you might discover almost +anything. It's really a pity with your imagination that you don't go +into fiction." + +"Or oil promotin'," suggested Cole with a grin. "Or is that the same +thing?" + +"Let's table our cards, James," his cousin said. "You know now why +we're here." + +"On the contrary, I'm more in the dark than ever." + +Kirby was never given to useless movements of his limbs or body. He +had the gift of repose, of wonderful poise. Now not even his eyelashes +flickered. + +"We want to know what you've done with Esther McLean." + +"But, my dear fellow, why should I do anything with her?" + +"You know why as well as I do. Somehow you've persuaded her to go +somewhere and hide herself. You want her in your power, to force or +cajole her into a compromise of her right to Uncle James's estate. We +won't have it." + +A satiric smile touched the face of Cunningham without warming it, +"That active imagination of yours again. You _do_ let it run away with +you." + +"You were seen getting into a car with Miss McLean." + +"Did she step in of her own free will?" + +"We don't claim an abduction." + +"On your own statement of the case, then, you have no ground of +complaint whatever." + +"Do you refuse to tell us where she is?" Kirby asked. + +"I refuse to admit that I know where the young lady is." + +"We'll find her. Don't make any mistake about that." + +Kirby rose. The interview was at an end. Cole Sanborn strode forward. +He leaned over the desk toward the oil broker, his blue eyes drilling +into those of the broker. + +"We sure will, an' if you've hurt our li'l' friend--if she's got any +grievance against you an' the way you treat her--I'll certainly wreck +you proper, Mr. Cunningham." + +James flushed angrily. "Get out of here--all of you! Or I'll send for +the police and have you swept out. I'm fed up on your interference." + +"Is it interference for Miss McLean here to want to know where her +sister is?" asked Kirby quietly. + +"Why should you all assume I know?" + +"Because the evidence points to you." + +"Absurd. You come down here from Wyoming and do nothing but make +trouble for me and Jack even though we try to stand your friend. I've +had about enough of you." + +"Sorry you look at it that way." Kirby's smile was friendly. It was +even wistful. "I appreciate what you did for me, but I've got to go +through with what I've started. I can't quit on the job because I'm +under an obligation to you. By the way, I've arranged the matter of +the bond. We're to take it up at the district attorney's office at +eleven this morning." + +"Glad to hear it. I want to be quit of you," snapped Cunningham tartly. + +Outside, Kirby gave directions to his lieutenants. "It's up to you two +to dig up some facts. I'm gonna be busy all mornin' with this bond +business so's I can keep outa jail. Rose, you go up to the Secretary +of State's office and find the number of the license of my cousin's car +and the kind of machine it is. Then you'd better come back an' take a +look at all the cars parked within three or four blocks of here. He +may have driven it down when he came to work this mornin'. Look at the +speedometer an' see what the mileage record is of the last trip taken. +Cole, you go to this address. That's where my cousin lives. Find out +at what garage he keeps his car. If they don't know, go to all the +garages within several blocks of the place. See if it's a closed car. +Get the make an' the number an' the last trip mileage. Meet me here at +twelve o'clock, say. Both of you." + +"Suits me," said Cole. "But wise me up. What's the idea in the +mileage?" + +"Just this. James was outa town last night probably. We couldn't find +him anywhere. My notion is that he's taken Esther somewhere into the +mountains. If we can get the mileage of the last trip, all we have to +do is to divide it by two to know how far away Esther is. Then we'll +draw a circle round Denver at that distance an'--" + +Cole slapped his thigh with his hat. "Bully! You're sure the +white-haired lad in this deteckative game." + +"Maybe he didn't set the speedometer for the trip," suggested Rose. + +"Possible. Then again more likely he did. James is a methodical chap. +Another thing, while you're at the private hotel where he lives, Cole. +Find out if you can where James goes when he fishes or drives into the +mountains. Perhaps he's got a cottage of his own or some favorite +spot." + +"I'm on my way, old-timer!" Cole announced with enthusiasm. + +At luncheon the committee reported progress. Cole had seen James +Cunningham's car. It was a sedan. He had had it out of the garage all +afternoon and evening and had brought it back just before midnight. +The trip record on the speedometer registered ninety-two miles. + +From his pocket Kirby drew an automobile map and a pencil. He notched +on the pencil a mark to represent forty-six miles from the point, based +on the scale of miles shown at the foot of the map. With the pencil as +a radius he drew a semicircle from Denver as the center. The curved +line passed through Loveland, Long's Peak, and across the Snow Range to +Tabernash. It included Georgetown, Gray's Peak, Mount Evans, and +Cassell's. From there it swept on to Palmer Lake. + +"I'm not includin' the plains country to the east," Kirby explained. +"You'll have enough territory to cover as it is, Cole. By the way, did +you find anything about where James goes into the hills?" + +"No." + +"Well, we'll make some more inquiries. Perhaps the best thing for you +to do would be to go out to the small towns around Denver an' find out +if any of the garage people noticed a car of that description passin' +through. That would help a lot. It would give us a line on whether he +went up Bear Cañon, Platte Cañon, into Northern Colorado, or south +toward the Palmer Lake country." + +"You've allowed forty-six miles by an air line," Rose pointed out. "He +couldn't have gone as far as Long's Peak or Evans--nowhere nearly as +far, because the roads are so winding when you get in the hills. He +could hardly have reached Estes Park." + +"Right. You'll have to check up the road distances from Denver, Cole. +Your job's like lookin' for a needle in a haystack. I'll put a +detective agency on James. He might take a notion to run out to the +cache any fine evenin'. He likely will, to make sure Esther is +contented." + +"Or he'll send Jack," Rose added. + +"We'll try to keep an eye on him, too." + +"This is my job, is it?" Cole asked, rising. + +"You an' Rose can work together on it. My job's here in town on the +murder mystery." + +"If we work both of them out---finding Esther and proving who killed +your uncle--I think we'll learn that it's all the same mystery, +anyhow," Rose said, drawing on her gloves. + +Cole nodded sagely. "You've said somethin', Rose." + +"Say _when_, not _if_, we work 'em out. We'll be cuttin' hot trail +_poco tempo_," Kirby prophesied, smiling up at them. + + + + +CHAPTER XXVII + +THE DETECTIVE GETS TWO SURPRISES + +Kirby stared down at the document in front of him. He could scarcely +believe the evidence flashed by his eyes to his brain. It was the +document he had asked the county recorder at Golden to send him--and it +certified that, on July 21, _James Cunningham and Phyllis Harriman had +been united in marriage_ at Golden by the Reverend Nicodemus Rankin. + +This knocked the props from under the whole theory he had built up to +account for the disappearance of Esther McLean. If Esther were not the +widow of his uncle, then the motive of James in helping her to vanish +was not apparent. Perhaps he told the truth and knew nothing about the +affair whatever. + +But Kirby was puzzled. Why had his uncle, who was openly engaged to +Phyllis Harriman, married her surreptitiously and kept that marriage a +secret? It was not in character, and he could see no reason for it. +Foster had sent him to Golden on the tacit hint that there was some +clue in the license register to the mystery of James Cunningham's +death. What bearing had this marriage on it, if any? + +It explained, of course, the visit of Miss Harriman to his uncle's +apartments on the night he was murdered. She had an entire right to go +there at any time, and if they were keeping their relation a secret +would naturally go at night when she could slip in unobserved. + +But Kirby's mind wandered up and down blind alleys. The discovery of +this secret seemed only to make the tangle more difficult. + +He had a hunch that there was a clue at Golden he had somehow missed, +and that feeling took him back there within three hours of the receipt +of the certificate. + +The clerk in the recorder's office could tell him nothing new except +that he had called up Mrs. Rankin by telephone and she had brought up +the delayed certificate at once. Kirby lost no time among the records. +He walked to the Rankin house and introduced himself to an old lady +sunning herself on the porch. She was a plump, brisk little person +with snapping eyes younger than her years. + +"I'm sorry I wasn't at home when you called. Can I help you now?" she +asked. + +"I don't know. James Cunningham was my uncle. We thought he had +married a girl who is a sister of the friend with me the day I called. +But it seems we were mistaken. He married Phyllis Harriman, the young +woman to whom he was engaged." + +Mrs. Rankin smiled, the placid, motherly smile of experience. "I've +noticed that men sometimes do marry the girls to whom they are engaged." + +"Yes, but--" Kirby broke off and tried another tack. "How old was the +lady? And was she dark or fair?" + +"Miss Harriman? I should think she may be twenty-five. She is dark, +slender, and beautifully dressed. Rather an--an expensive sort of +young lady, perhaps." + +"Did she act as though she were much--well, in love with--Mr. +Cunningham?" + +The bright eyes twinkled. "She's not a young woman who wears her heart +on her sleeve, I judge. I can't answer that question. My opinion is +that he was very much in love with her. Why do you ask?" + +"You have read about his death since, of course," he said. + +"Is he dead? No, I didn't know it." The birdlike eyes opened wider. +"That's strange too." + +"It's on account of the mystery of his death that I'm troubling you, +Mrs. Rankin. We want it cleared up, of course." + +"But--two James Cunninghams haven't died mysteriously, have they?" she +asked. "The nephew isn't killed, too, is he?" + +"Oh, no. Just my uncle." + +"Then we're mixed up somewhere. How old was your uncle?" + +"He was past fifty-six--just past." + +"That's not the man my husband married." + +"Not the man! Oh, aren't you mistaken, Mrs. Rankin? My uncle was +strong and rugged. He did not look his age." + +The old lady got up swiftly. "Please excuse me a minute." She moved +with extraordinary agility into the house. It was scarcely a minute +before she was with him again, a newspaper in her hand. In connection +with the Cunningham murder mystery several pictures were shown. Among +them were photographs of his uncle and two cousins. + +"This is the man whose marriage to Miss Harriman I witnessed," she said. + +Her finger was pointing to the likeness of his cousin James Cunningham. + + + + +CHAPTER XXVIII + +THE FINGER OF SUSPICION POINTS + +The words of the preacher's little wife were like a bolt from a sunny +heaven. Kirby could not accept them without reiteration. Never in the +wildest dreams of the too vivid imagination of which his cousin had +accused him had this possibility occurred to him. + +"Do you mean that this man--the younger one--is the husband of Phyllis +Harriman?" His finger touched the reproduction of his cousin's +photograph. + +"Yes. He's the man my husband married her to on the twenty-first of +July." + +"You're quite sure of that?" + +"I ought to be," she answered rather dryly. "I was a witness." + +A young woman came up the walk from the street. She was a younger and +more modern replica of Mrs. Rankin. The older lady introduced her. + +"Daughter, this is Mr. Lane, the gentleman who called on Father the +other day while we were away. Mr. Lane, my daughter Ellen." Briskly +she continued, showing her daughter the picture of James Cunningham, +Junior. "Did you ever see this man, dear?" + +Ellen took one glance at it. "He's the man Father married the other +day." + +"When?" the mother asked. + +"It was--let me see--about the last week in July. Why?" + +"Married to who?" asked Mrs. Rankin colloquially. + +"To that lovely Miss Harriman, of course." + +The old lady wheeled on Kirby triumphantly. "Are you satisfied now +that I'm in my right mind?" she demanded smilingly. + +"Have to ask your pardon if I was rude," he said, meeting her smile. +"But the fact is it was such a surprise I couldn't take it in." + +"This gentleman is the nephew of the Mr. Cunningham who was killed. He +thought it was his uncle who had married Miss Harriman," the mother +explained to Ellen. + +The girl turned to Kirby. "You know I've wondered about that myself. +The society columns of the papers said it was the older Mr. Cunningham +that was going to marry her. And I've seen, since your uncle's death, +notices in the paper about his engagement to Miss Harriman. But I +thought it must have been a mistake, since it was the younger Mr. +Cunningham she did marry. Maybe the reporters got the two mixed. They +do sometimes get things wrong in the papers, you know." + +This explanation was plausible, but Kirby happened to have inside +information. He remembered the lovely photograph of the young woman in +his uncle's rooms and the "Always, Phyllis" written across the lower +part of it. He recalled the evasive comments of both James and his +brother whenever any reference had been made to the relation between +Miss Harriman and their uncle. No, Phyllis Harriman had been engaged +to marry James Cunningham, Senior. He was sure enough of that. In +point of fact he had seen at the district attorney's office a letter +written by her to the older man, a letter which acknowledged that they +were to be married in October. It had been one of a dozen papers +turned over to the prosecutor's office for examination. Then she had +jilted the land promoter for his nephew. + +Did his uncle know of the marriage of his nephew? That was something +Kirby meant to find out if he could. The news he had just heard lit up +avenues of thought as a searchlight throws a shaft into the darkness. +It brought a new factor into the problem at which he was working. +Roughly speaking, the cattleman knew his uncle, the habits of mind that +guided him, the savage and relentless passions that swayed him. If the +old man knew his favorite nephew and his fiancée had made a mock of +him, he would move swiftly to a revenge that would hurt. The first +impulse of his mind would be to strike James from his will. + +And even if his uncle had not yet discovered the secret marriage, he +would soon have done so. It could not have been much longer concealed. +This thing was as sure as any contingency in human life can be: _if +Cunningham had lived, his nephew James would never have inherited a +cent of his millions. The older man had died in the nick of time for +James_. + +Already Kirby had heard a hint to this effect. It had been at a +restaurant much affected by the business men of the city during the +lunch hour. Two men had been passing his table on their way out. One, +lowering his voice, had said to the other: "James Cunningham ought to +give a medal to the fellow that shot his uncle. Didn't come a day too +soon for him. Between you and me, J. C. has been speculating heavy and +has been hit hard. He was about due to throw up the sponge. Luck for +him, I'll say." + +It was on the way back from Golden, while he was being rushed through +the golden fields of summer, that suspicion of his cousin hit Kirby +like a blow in the face. Facts began to marshal themselves in his +mind, an irresistible phalanx of them. James was the only man, except +his brother, who benefited greatly by the death of his uncle. Not only +was this true; the land promoter had to die _soon_ to help James, just +how soon Kirby meant to find out. Phyllis and a companion had been in +the victim's apartment either at the time of his death or immediately +afterward. That companion _might have been James and not Jack_. James +had lost the sheets with the writing left by the Japanese valet +Horikawa. The rage he had vented on his clerk might easily have been a +blind. When James knew he was going to Golden to look up the marriage +register, he had at once tried to forestall him by destroying the +information. + +Kirby tried to fight off his suspicions. He wanted to believe in his +cousin. In his own way he had been kind to him. He had gone on his +bond to keep him out of prison after he had tried to conceal the fact +of his existence at the coroner's inquest. But doubts began to gnaw at +the Wyoming man's confidence in him. Had James befriended him merely +to be in a position to keep closer tab on anything he discovered? Had +he wanted to be close enough to throw him off the track with the wrong +suggestions? + +The young cattleman was ashamed of himself for his doubts. But he +could not down them. His discovery of the marriage changed the +situation. It put his cousin James definitely into the list of the +suspects. + +As soon as he reached town he called at the law offices of Irwin, +Foster & Warren. The member of the firm he wanted to see was in. + +"I've been to Golden, Mr. Foster," he said, when he was alone with that +gentleman. "Now I want to ask you a question." + +The lawyer looked at him, smiling warily. Both of the James +Cunninghams had been clients of his. + +"I make my living giving legal advice," he said. + +"I don't want legal advice just now," Kirby answered. "I want to ask +you if you know whether my uncle knew that James and Miss Harriman were +married." + +Foster looked out of the window and drummed with his finger-tips on the +desk. "Yes," he said at last. + +"He knew?" + +"Yes." + +"Do you know when he found out?" + +"I can answer that, too. He found out on the evening of the +twenty-first--two days before his death. I told him--after dinner at +the City Club." + +"You had just found it out yourself?" + +"That afternoon." + +"How did you decide that the James Cunningham mentioned in the license +you saw was the younger one?" + +"By the age given." + +"How did my uncle take the news when you told him?" + +"He took it standing," the lawyer said. "Didn't make any fuss, but +looked like the Day of Judgment for the man who had betrayed him." + +"What did he do?" + +"Wrote a note and called for a messenger to deliver it." + +"Who to?" Kirby asked colloquially. + +"I don't know. Probably the company has a record of all calls. If so, +you can find the boy who delivered the message." + +"I'll get busy right away." + +Foster hesitated, then volunteered another piece of information. "I +don't suppose you know that your uncle sent for me next day and told me +to draft a new will for him and get it ready for his signature." + +"Did you do it?" + +"Yes. I handed it to him the afternoon of the day he was killed. It +was found unsigned among his papers after his death. The old will +still stands." + +"Leaving the property to James and Jack?" + +"Yes." + +"And the new will?" + +"Except for some bequests and ten thousand for a fountain at the city +park, the whole fortune was to go to Jack." + +"So that if he had lived twenty-four hours longer James would have been +disinherited." + +Foster looked at him out of eyes that told nothing of what he was +thinking. "That's the situation exactly." + +Kirby made no further comment, nor did the lawyer. + +Within two hours the man from Twin Buttes had talked with the messenger +boy, refreshed his memory with a tip, and learned that the message +Cunningham had sent from the City Club had been addressed to his nephew +Jack. + + + + +CHAPTER XXIX + +"COME CLEAN, JACK" + +Jack Cunningham, co-heir with James of his uncle's estate, was busy in +the office he had inherited settling up one of the hundred details that +had been left at loose ends by the promoter's sudden death. He looked +up at the entrance of Lane. + +"What do you want?" he asked sharply. + +"Want a talk with you." + +"Well, I don't care to talk with you. What are you doing here anyhow. +I told the boy to tell you I was too busy to see you." + +"That's what he said." Kirby opened his slow, whimsical smile on Jack. +"But I'm right busy, too. So I brushed him aside an' walked in." + +In dealing with this forceful cousin of his, Jack had long since lost +his indolent insolence of manner. "You can walk out again, then. I'll +not talk," he snapped. + +Kirby drew up a chair and seated himself. "When Uncle James sent a +messenger for you to come to his rooms at once on the evening of the +twenty-first, what did he want to tell you?" The steady eyes of the +cattleman bored straight into those of Cunningham. + +"Who said he sent a messenger for me?" + +"It doesn't matter who just now. There are two witnesses. What did he +want?" + +"That's my business." + +"So you say. I'm beginnin' to wonder if it isn't the business of the +State of Colorado, too." + +"What do you mean?" + +"I mean that Uncle sent for you because he had just found out your +brother and Miss Harriman were married." + +Jack flashed a startled look at him. It seemed to him his cousin +showed an uncanny knowledge at times. "You think so." + +"He wanted to tell you that he was goin' to cut your brother out of his +will an' leave you sole heir. An' he wanted you to let James know it +right away." + +Kirby was guessing, but he judged he had scored. Jack got up and began +to pace the room. He was plainly agitated. + +"Look here. Why don't you go back to Wyoming and mind your own +business? You're not in this. It's none of your affair. What are you +staying here for hounding the life out of James and me?" + +"None of my business! That's good, Jack. An' me out on bond charged +with the murder of Uncle James. I'd say it was quite some of my +business. I'm gonna stick to the job. Make up your mind to that." + +"Then leave us alone," retorted Jack irritably. "You act as though you +thought we were a pair of murderers." + +"If you have nothin' to conceal, why do you block anyway? Why aren't +you frank an' open? Why did you steal that record at Golden? Why did +James lose the Jap's confession--if it was a confession? Why did he +get Miss McLean to disappear? Answer those questions to my +satisfaction before you talk about me buttin' in with suspicions +against you." + +Jack slammed a fist down on the corner of the desk. "I'm not going to +answer any questions! I'll say you've got a nerve! You're the man +charged with this crime--the man that's liable to be tried for it. +You've got a rope round your neck right this minute--and you go around +high and mighty trying to throw suspicion on men that there's no +evidence against." + +"You said you had a quarrel with your uncle that night--no, I believe +you called it a difference of opinion, at the inquest. What was that +disagreement about?" + +"Find out! I'll never tell you." + +"Was it because you tried to defend James to him--tried to get him to +forgive the treachery of his fiancée and his nephew?" + +Again Jack shot at him a look of perplexed and baffled wonder. That +brown, indomitable face, back of which was so much strength of purpose +and so much keenness of apprehension, began to fill him with alarm. +This man let no obstacles stop him. He would go on till he had +uncovered the whole tangle they were trying to keep hidden. + +"For God's sake, man, stop this snooping around! You'll get off. +We'll back you. There's nowhere nearly enough evidence to convict you. +Let it go at that," implored Jack. + +"I can't do that. I've got to clear my name. Do you think I'm willin' +to go back to my friends with a Scotch verdict hangin' over me? 'He +did it, but we haven't evidence enough to prove it.' Come clean, Jack! +Are you and James in this thing? Is that why you want me to drop my +investigations?" + +"No, of course we're not! But--damn it, do you think we want the name +of my brother's wife dragged through the mud?" + +"Why should it be dragged through the mud--if you're all innocent?" + +"Because gossips cackle--and people never forget. If there was some +evidence against her and against James--no matter how little--twenty +years from now people would still whisper that they had killed his +uncle for the fortune, though it couldn't be proved. You know that." + +"Just as they're goin' to whisper about Rose McLean if I don't clear +things up. No, Jack. You've got the wrong idea. What we want to do +is for us all to jump in an' find the man who did it. Then all gossip +against us stops." + +"That's easy to say. How're you going to find the guilty man?" asked +Jack sulkily. + +"If you'd tell what you know we'd find him fast enough. How can I get +to the bottom of the thing when you an' James won't give me the facts?" + +Jack looked across at him doggedly. "I've told all I'm going to tell." + +The long, lithe body of the man from the Wyoming hills leaned forward +ever so slightly. "Don't you think it! Don't you think it for a +minute! You'll come clean whether you want to or not--or I'll put that +rope you mentioned round your brother's throat." + +Jack looked at this man with the nerves of chilled steel and shivered. +What could he do against a single-track mind with such driving force +back of it? Had Kirby got anything of importance on James? Or was he +bluffing? + +"Talk 's cheap," he sneered uneasily. + +"You'll find how cheap it is. James had been speculatin'. He was down +an' out. Another week, an' he'd have been a bankrupt. Uncle discovers +how he's been tricked by him an' Miss Harriman. He serves notice that +he's cuttin' James out of his will an' he sends for a lawyer to draw up +a new one. James an' his wife go to the old man's rooms to beg off. +There's a quarrel, maybe. Anyhow, this point sticks up like a sore +thumb: if uncle hadn't died that night your brother would 'a' been a +beggar. Now he's a millionaire. And James was in his room the very +hour in which he was killed." + +"You can't prove that!" Jack cried, his voice low and hoarse. "How do +you know he was there? What evidence have you?" + +Kirby smiled, easily and confidently. "The evidence will be produced +at the right time." He rose and turned to go. + +Jack also got up, white to the lips. "Hold on! Don't--don't do +anything in a hurry! I'll--talk with you to-morrow--here--in the +forenoon. Or say in a day or two. I'll let you know then." + +His cousin nodded grimly. + +The hard look passed from his eyes as he reached the corridor. "Had to +throw a scare into him to make him come through," he murmured in +apology to himself. + + + + +CHAPTER XXX + +KIRBY MAKES A CALL + +Kirby had been bluffing when he said he had evidence to prove that +James was in his uncle's rooms the very hour of the murder. But he was +now convinced that he had told the truth. James had been there, and +his brother Jack knew it. The confession had been written in his +shocked face when Kirby flung out the charge. + +But James might have been there and still be innocent, just as was the +case with him and Rose. The cattleman wanted to find the murderer, but +he wanted almost as much to find that James had nothing to do with the +crime. He eliminated Jack, except perhaps as an accessory after the +fact. Jack had a telltale face, but he might be cognizant of guilt +without being deeply a party to it. He could be insolent, but faults +of manner are not a crime. Besides, all Jack's interests lay in the +other direction. If his uncle had lived a day longer, he would have +been sole heir to the estate. + +As he wandered through the streets Kirby's mind was busy with the +problem. Automatically his legs carried him to the Paradox Apartments. +He found himself there before he even knew he had been heading in that +direction. Mrs. Hull came out and passed him. She was without a hat, +and probably was going to the corner grocery on Fifteenth. + +"I've been neglecting friend Hull," he murmured to himself. "I reckon +I'll just drop in an' ask him how his health is." + +He was not sorry that Mrs. Hull was out. She was easily, he judged, +the dominant member of the firm. If he could catch the fat man alone +he might gather something of importance. + +Hull opened the door of the apartment to his knock. He stood glaring +at the young man, his prominent eyes projecting, the red capillaries in +his beefy face filling. + +"Whadjawant?" he demanded. + +"A few words with you, Mr. Hull." Kirby pushed past him into the room, +much as an impudent agent does. + +"Well, I don't aim to have no truck with you at all," blustered the fat +man. "You've just naturally wore out yore welcome with me before ever +you set down. I'll ask you to go right now." + +"Here's your hat. What's your hurry?" murmured Kirby, by way of +quotation. "Sure I'll go. But don't get on the prod, Hull. I came to +make some remarks an' to ask a question. I'll not hurt you any. +Haven't got smallpox or anything." + +"I don't want you here. If the police knew you was here, they'd be +liable to think we was talkin' about--about what happened upstairs." + +"Then they would be right. That's exactly what we're gonna talk about." + +"No, sir! I ain't got a word to say--not a word!" The big man showed +signs of panic. + +"Then I'll say it." The dancing light died out of Kirby's eyes. They +became hard and steady as agates. "Who killed Cunningham, Hull?" + +The fishy eyes of the man dodged. A startled oath escaped him. "How +do I know?" + +"Didn't you kill him?" + +"Goddlemighty, no!" Hull dragged out the red bandanna and gave his +apoplectic face first aid. He mopped perspiration from the overlapping +roll of fat above his collar. "I dunno a thing about it. Honest, I +don't. You got no right to talk to me thataway." + +"You're a tub of iniquity, Hull. Also, you're a right poor liar. You +know a lot about it. You were in my uncle's rooms just before I saw +you on the night of his death. You were seen there." + +"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. + +"Shibo, why did you hide from the police that Mr. Hull was in my +uncle's rooms the night he was killed?" + +The janitor shot one slant, startled glance at Kirby before the mask of +impassivity wiped out expression from his eyes. + +"You know heap lot about everything. You busy busy all like honey-bee. +Me, I just janitor--mind own business." + +"I wonder, now." Kirby's level gaze took the man in carefully. Was he +as simple as he wanted to appear? + +"No talk when not have anything to tell." Shibo moved the sprinkler to +another part of the lawn. + +Kirby followed him. He had a capacity for patience. + +"Did Mr. Hull ask you not to tell about him?" + +Shibo said nothing, but he said it with indignant eloquence. + +"Did he give you money not to tell? I don't want to go to the police +with this if I can help it, Shibo. Better come through to me." + +"You go police an' say I know who make Mr. Cunningham dead?" + +"If I have to." + +The janitor had no more remarks to make. He lapsed into an angry, +stubborn silence. For nearly half an hour Kirby stayed by his side. +The cattleman asked questions. He suggested that, of course, the +police would soon find out the facts after he went to them. He even +went beyond his brief and implied that shortly Shibo would be occupying +a barred cell. + +But the man from the Orient contributed no more to the talk. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXI + +THE MASK OF THE RED BANDANNA + +It had come by special delivery, an ill-written little note scrawled on +cheap ruled paper torn from a tablet. + + +If you want to know who killed Cuningham i can tell you. Meet me at +the Denmark Bilding, room 419, at eleven tonight. Come alone. + +_One who knows_. + + +Kirby studied the invitation carefully. Was it genuine? Or was it a +plant? He was no handwriting expert, but he had a feeling that it was +a disguised script. There is an inimitable looseness of design in the +chirography of an illiterate person. He did not find here the +awkwardness of the inexpert; rather the elaborate imitation of an +amateur ignoramus. Yet he was not sure. He could give no definite +reason for this fancy. + +And in the end he tossed it overboard. He would keep the appointment +and see what came of it. Moreover, he would keep it alone--except for +a friend hanging under the left arm at his side. Kirby had brought no +revolver with him to Denver. Occasionally he carried one on the range +to frighten coyotes and to kill rattlers. But he knew where he could +borrow one, and he proceeded to do so. + +Not that there was any danger in meeting the unknown correspondent. +Kirby did not admit that for a moment. There are people so constituted +that they revel in the mysterious. They wrap their most common actions +in hints of reserve and weighty silence. Perhaps this man was one of +them. There was no danger whatever. Nobody had any reason to wish him +serious ill. Yet Kirby took a .45 with him when he set out for the +Denmark Building. He did it because that strange sixth sense of his +had warned him to do so. + +During the day he had examined the setting for the night's adventure. +He had been to the Denmark Building and scanned it inside and out. He +had gone up to the fourth floor and looked at the exterior of Room 419. +The office door had printed on it this design: + + + THE GOLD HILL MILLING & MINING COMPANY + + +But when Kirby tried the door he found it locked. + +The Denmark Building is a little out of the heart of the Denver +business district. It was built far uptown at a time when real estate +was booming. Adjoining it is the Rockford Building. The two dominate +a neighborhood of squat two-story stores and rooming-houses. In dull +seasons the offices in the two big landmarks are not always filled with +tenants. + +The elevators in the Denmark had ceased running hours since. Kirby +took the narrow stairs which wound round the elevator shaft. He trod +the iron treads very slowly, very softly. He had no wish to advertise +his presence. If there was to be any explosive surprise, he did not +want to be at the receiving end of it. + +He reached the second story, crossed the landing, and began the next +flight. The place was dark as a midnight pit. At the third floor its +blackness was relieved slightly by a ray of light from a transom far +down the corridor. + +Kirby waited to listen. He heard no faintest sound to break the +stillness. Again his foot found the lowest tread and he crept upward. +In the daytime he had laughed at the caution which had led him to +borrow a weapon from an acquaintance at the stockyards. But now every +sense shouted danger. He would not go back, but each forward step was +taken with infinite care. + +And his care availed him nothing. A lifted foot struck an empty soap +box with a clatter to wake the seven sleepers. Instantly he knew it +had been put there for him to stumble over. A strong searchlight +flooded the stairs and focused on him. He caught a momentary glimpse +of a featureless face standing out above the light--a face that was +nothing but a red bandanna handkerchief with slits in it for eyes--and +of a pair of feet below at the top of the stairway. + +The searchlight winked out. There was a flash of lightning and a crash +of thunder. A second time the pocket flash found Kirby. It found him +crouched low and reaching for the .45 under his arm. The booming of +the revolver above reverberated down the pit of the stairway. + +Arrow-swift, with the lithe ease of a wild thing from the forest, Kirby +ducked round the corner for safety. He did not wait there, but took +the stairs down three at a stride. Not till he had reached the ground +floor did he stop to listen for the pursuit. + +No sound of following footsteps came to him. By some miracle of good +luck he had escaped the ambush. It was characteristic of him that he +did not fly wildly into the night. His brain functioned normally, +coolly. Whoever it was had led him into the trap had lost his chance. +Kirby reasoned that the assassin's mind would be bent on making his own +safe escape before the police arrived. + +The cattleman waited, crouched behind an out-jutting pillar in the wall +of the entrance. Every minute he expected to see a furtive figure +sneak past him into the street. His hopes were disappointed. It was +nearly midnight when two men, talking cheerfully of the last gusher in, +the Buckburnett field, emerged from the stairway and passed into the +street. They were tenants who had stayed late to do some unfinished +business. + +There was a drug-store in the building, cornering on two streets. +Kirby stepped into it and asked a question of the clerk at the +prescription desk. + +"Is there more than one entrance to the Denmark Building?" + +"No, sir." The clerk corrected himself. "Well, there's another way +out. The Producers & Developers Shale and Oil Company have a suite of +offices that run into the Rockford Building. They've built an alley to +connect between the two buildings. It's on the fifth floor." + +"Is it open? Could a man get out of the Denmark Building now by way of +the Rockford entrance?" + +"Easiest in the world. All he'd have to do would be to cross the alley +bridge, go down the Rockford stairs, and walk into the street." + +Kirby wasted no more time. He knew that the man who had tried to +murder him had long since made good his getaway by means of the +fifth-story bridge between the buildings. + +As he walked back to the hotel where he was stopping his eyes and ears +were busy. He took no dark-alley chances, but headed for the bright +lights of the main streets where he would be safe from any possibility +of a second ambush. + +His brain was as busy as his eyes. Who had planned this attempt on his +life and so nearly carried it to success? Of one thing he was sure. +The assassin who had flung the shots at him down the narrow stairway of +the Denmark was the one who had murdered his uncle. The motive for the +ambuscade was fear. Kirby was too hot on the trail that might send him +to the gallows. The man had decided to play safe by following the old +theory that dead men tell no tales. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXII + +JACK TAKES OFF HIS COAT + +Afterward, when Kirby Lane looked back upon the weeks spent in Denver +trying to clear up the mysteries which surrounded the whole affair of +his uncle's death, it seemed to him that he had been at times +incredibly stupid. Nowhere did this accent itself so much as in that +part of the tangle which related to Esther McLean. + +From time to time Kirby saw Cole. He was in and out of town. Most of +his time was spent running down faint trails which spun themselves out +and became lost in the hills. The champion rough rider was indomitably +resolute in his intention of finding her. There were times when Rose +began to fear that her little sister was lost to her for always. But +Sanborn never shared this feeling. + +"You wait. I'll find her," he promised. "An' if I can lay my hands on +the man that's done her a meanness, I'll certainly give them hospital +sharks a job patchin' him up." His gentle eyes had frozen, and the +cold, hard light in them was almost deadly. + +Kirby could not get it out of his head that James was responsible for +the disappearance of the girl. Yet he could not find a motive that +would justify so much trouble on his cousin's part. + +He was at a moving-picture house on Curtis Street with Rose when the +explanation popped into his mind. They were watching an old-fashioned +melodrama in which the villain's letter is laid at the door of the +unfortunate hero. + +Kirby leaned toward Rose in the darkness and whispered, "Let's go." + +"Go where?" she wanted to know in surprise. They had seated themselves +not five minutes before. + +"I've got a hunch. Come." + +She rose, and on the way to the aisle brushed past several irritated +ladies. Not till they were standing on the sidewalk outside did he +tell her what was on his mind. + +"I want to see that note from my uncle you found in your sister's +desk," he said. + +She looked at him and laughed a little. "You certainly want what you +want when you want it! Do your hunches often take you like that--right +out of a perfectly good show you've paid your money to see?" + +"We've made a mistake. It was seein' that fellow in the play that put +me wise. Have you got the note with you?" + +"No. It's at home. If you like we'll go and get it." + +They walked up to the Pioneers' Monument and from there over to her +boarding-place. + +Kirby looked the little note over carefully. "What a chump I was not +to look at this before," he said. "My uncle never wrote it." + +"Never wrote it?" + +"Not his writin' a-tall." + +"Then whose is it?" + +"I can make a darn good guess. Can't you?" + +She looked at him, eyes dilated, on the verge of a discovery. "You +mean--?" + +"I mean that J. C. might stand for at least two other men we know." + +"Your cousin James?" + +"More likely Jack." + +His mind beat back to fugitive memories of Jack's embarrassment when +Esther's name had been mentioned in connection with his uncle. Swiftly +his brain began to piece the bits of evidence he had not understood the +meaning of before. + +"Jack's the man. You may depend on it. My uncle hadn't anything to do +with it. We jumped at that conclusion too quick," he went on. + +"You think that she's . . . with him?" + +"No. She's likely out in the country or in some small town. He's +havin' her looked after. Probably an attack of conscience. Even if +he's selfish as the devil, he isn't heartless." + +"If we could be sure she's all right. But we can't." Rose turned on +him a wistful face, twisted by emotion. "I want to find her, Kirby. +I'm her sister. She's all I've got. Can't you do something?" + +"I'll try." + +She noticed the hardening of the lean jaw, the tightening of the +muscles as the back teeth clenched. + +"Don't--don't do anything--rash," she begged. + +Her hand rested lightly on his arm. Their eyes met. He smiled grimly. + +"Don't worry. Mebbe I'll call you up later tonight and report +progress." + +He walked to the nearest drug-store and used the telephone freely. At +the end of fifteen minutes he stepped out of the booth. His cousin +Jack was doing some evening work at the offices where he was now in +charge of settling up his uncle's affairs. + +Kirby found him there. A man stenographer was putting on his coat to +leave, but Jack was still at his desk. He looked up, annoyed. + +"Was that you telephoned me?" he asked. + +"Yes." + +"I told you I'd let you know when I wanted to see you." + +"So you did. But you didn't let me know. The shoe's on the other foot +now. I want to see you." + +"I'm not interested in anything you have to say." + +The stenographer had gone. Kirby could hear his footsteps echoing down +the corridor. He threw the catch of the lock and closed the door. + +"I can promise to keep you interested," he said, very quietly. + +Jack rose. He wore white shoes, duck trousers, a white pique shirt, +and a blue serge coat that fitted his graceful figure perfectly. "What +did you do that for?" he demanded. "Open that door!" + +"Not just yet, Jack. I've come for a settlement. It's up to you to +say what kind of a one it'll be." + +Cunningham's dark eyes glittered. He was no physical coward. +Moreover, he was a trained athlete, not long out of college. He had +been the middle-weight champion boxer of the university. If this tough +brown cousin wanted a set-to, he would not have to ask twice for it. + +"Suits me fine," he said. "What's your proposition?" + +"I've been a blind idiot. Didn't see what was right before my eyes. I +reckon you've had some laughs at me. Well, I hope you enjoyed 'em. +There aren't any more grins comin' to you." Kirby spoke coldly, +implacably, his voice grating like steel on steel. + +"Meaning, in plain English?" + +"That you've let a dead man's shoulders carry your sins. You heard us +blame Uncle James for Esther McLean's trouble. An' you never said a +word to set us right. Yet you're the man, you damned scoundrel!" + +Jack went white to the lips, then flushed angrily. "You can't ever +mind your own business, can you?" + +"I want just two things from you. The first is, to know where you've +taken her; the second, to tell you that you're goin' to make this right +an' see that you do it." + +"When you talk to me like that I've nothing to say. No man living can +bully me." + +"You won't come through. Is that it?" + +"You may go to the devil for all of me." + +Their stormy eyes clashed. + +"The girl you took advantage of hasn't any brother," the Wyoming man +said. "I'm electin' myself to that job for a while. If I can I'm +goin' to whale the life outa you." + +Jack slipped out of his coat and tossed it on the desk. Even in that +moment, while Kirby was concentrating for the attack, the rough rider +found time to regret that so good-looking a youth, one so gallantly +poised and so gracefully graceless, should be a black-hearted scamp. + +"Hop to it!" invited the college man. Under thick dark lashes his +black eyes danced with excitement. + +Kirby lashed out with his right, hard and straight. His cousin ducked +with the easy grace of a man who has spent many hours on a ballroom +floor. The cattleman struck again. Jack caught the blow and deflected +it, at the same time uppercutting swiftly for the chin. The counter +landed flush on Kirby's cheek and flung him back to the wall. + +He grinned, and plunged again. A driving left caught him off balance +and flung him from his feet. He was up again instantly, shaking his +head to clear it of the dizziness that sang there. + +It came to him that he must use his brains against this expert boxer or +suffer a knockout. He must wear Jack out, let him spend his strength +in attack, watch for the chance that was bound to come if he could +weather the storm long enough. + +Not at all loath, Jack took the offensive. He went to work coolly to +put out his foe. He landed three for one, timing and placing his blows +carefully to get the maximum effect. A second time Kirby hit the floor. + +Jack hoped he would stay down. The clubman was a little out of +condition. He was beginning to breathe fast. His cousin had landed +hard two or three times on the body. Back of each of these blows there +had been a punishing force. Cunningham knew he had to win soon if at +all. + +But Kirby had not the least intention of quitting. He was the tough +product of wind and sun and hard work. He bored in and asked for more, +still playing for his opponent's wind. Kirby knew he was the stronger +man, in far better condition. He could afford to wait--and Jack could +not. He killed the boxer's attacks with deadly counter-blows, moving +in and out lithely as a cat. + +The rough rider landed close to the solar plexus. Jack winced and gave +ground. Kirby's fist got home again. He crowded Jack, feeling that +his man was weakening. + +Jack rallied for one last desperate set-to, hoping for a chance blow to +knock Kirby out. He scored a dozen times. Lane gave ground, slowly, +watchfully, guarding as best he could. + +Then his brown fist shot out and up. It moved scarcely six inches, +straight for the college boxer's chin. Jack's knees sagged. He went +down, rolled over, and lay still. + +Kirby found water and brought it back. Jack was sitting up, his back +propped against the wall. He swallowed a gulp or two and splashed the +rest on his face. + +"I'll say you can hit like the kick of a mule," he said. "If you'd +been a reasonable human, I ought to have got you, at that. Don't you +ever stay down?" + +Kirby could not repress a little smile. In spite of himself he felt a +sneaking admiration for this insouciant youth who could take a beating +like a sportsman. + +"You're some little mixer yourself," he said. + +"Thought I was, before I bumped into you. Say, gimme a hand up. I'm a +bit groggy yet." + +Kirby helped him to his feet. The immaculate shirt and trousers were +spattered with blood, mostly Kirby's. The young dandy looked at +himself, and a humorous quirk twitched at the corner of his mouth. + +"Some scrap. Let's go into the lavatory and do some reconstruction +work," he said. + +Side by side at adjoining washbowls, perfectly amicably, they repaired +as far as possible the damages of war. Not till they had put on again +their coats did Kirby hark back to the purpose of the meeting. + +"You haven't told me yet what I want to know." + +Out of a damaged eye Jack looked at him evenly. "And that's only part +of it. I'm not going to, either." + +He had said the last word. Kirby could not begin all over again to +thrash him. It was not reasonable. And if he did, he knew quite well +he would get nothing out of the man. If he would not talk, he would +not. + +The bronco buster walked back to his hotel. A special-delivery letter +was in his box. It was postmarked Golden. As he handed it to him the +clerk looked him over curiously. It had been some time since he had +seen a face so badly cut up and swollen. + +"You ought to see the other fellow," Kirby told him with a lopsided +grin as he ripped open the envelope. + +Before his eyes had traveled halfway down the sheet the cowman gave a +modulated whoop of joy. + +"Good news?" asked the clerk. + +Kirby did not answer. His eyes were staring in blank astonishment at +one sentence in the letter. The note was from Cole Sanborn. This is +what Kirby read in it: + + +Well, old-timer, there aint no trail so blamed long but what its got a +turn in it somewheres. I done found Esther up Platte Cañon and +everythings OK as you might say. I reckon you are wondering howcome +this to be postmarked Golden. Well, old pardner, Im sure enough +married at last but I had a great time getting Esther to see this my +way. Shes one swell little girl and theres only one thing I hate. +Before she would marry me I had to swear up and down I wouldnt touch +the yellow wolf who got her into trouble. But she didnt say nothing +about you so I will just slip you his name. It wasnt your uncle at all +but that crooked oil broker nephew of his James Cunningham. If you can +muss him up proper for me youll sure be doing a favor to + + yours respectably + + COLE SANBORN + +P.S. Esther sends bushels of love to Rose and will write to-morrow. +I'll say Im going to make her one happy kid. + +COLE + + +Kirby laughed in sardonic mirth. He had fought the wrong man. + +It was James Cunningham, not Jack. And, of course, Jack had known it +all the time and been embarrassed by it. He had stuck loyally to his +brother and had taken the whaling of his life rather than betray him. + +Kirby took off his hat to Jack. He had stood pat to a fighting finish. +He was one good square sport. + +Even as he was thinking this, Kirby was moving toward the telephone +booth. He had promised to report progress. For once he had +considerable to report. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXIII + +OLSON TELLS A STORY + +When Rose heard from Esther next day she and Kirby took the Interurban +for Golden. Esther had written that she wanted to see her sister +because Cole was going to take her back to Wyoming at once. + +The sisters wept in each other's arms and then passed together into +Esther's bedroom for an intimate talk. The younger sister was still +happy only in moments of forgetfulness, though she had been rescued +from death in life. Cole had found her comfortably situated at a +farmhouse a mile or two back from the cañon. She had gone there under +the urge of her need, at the instigation of James Cunningham, who could +not afford to have the scandal of his relations with her become public +at the same time as the announcement of his marriage to Phyllis +Harriman. The girl loved Cole and trusted him. Her heart went out to +him in a warm glow of gratitude. But the shadow of her fault was a +barrier in her mind between them, and would be long after his kindness +had melted the ice in her bosom. + +"We've got it all fixed up to tell how we was married when I come down +to Denver last April only we kep' it quiet because she wanted to hold +her job awhile," Cole explained to his friend. "Onct I get her back +there in God's hills she'll sure enough forget all about this trouble. +The way I look at it she was jus' like a li'l' kid that takes a +mis-step in the dark an' falls an' hurts itself. You know how a +wounded deer can look at a fellow so sorrowful an' hurt. Well, that's +how her brown eyes looked at me when I come round the corner o' the +house up Platte Cañon an' seen her sittin' there starin' at hell." + +Kirby shook hands with him in a sudden stress of emotion. "You'll do +to take along, old alkali, you sure enough will." + +"Oh, shucks!" retorted Cole, between disgust and embarrassment. "I +always claimed to be a white man, didn't I? You can't give a fellow +credit for doin' the thing he'd rather do than anything else. But prod +a peg in this. I'm gonna make that li'l' girl plumb happy. She thinks +she won't be, that she's lost the right to be. She's 'way off, I can +see her perkin' up already. I got a real honest-to-God laugh outa her +this mo'nin'." + +Kirby knew the patience, the steadiness, and the kindliness of his +friend. Esther had fallen into the best of hands. She would find +again the joy of life. He had no doubt of that. Gayety and laughter +were of her heritage. + +He said as much to Rose on the way home. She agreed. For the first +time since she left Cheyenne the girl was her old self. Esther's +problem had been solved far more happily than she had dared to hope. + +"I'm goin' to have a gay time apologizin' to Jack," said Kirby, his +eyes dancing. "It's not so blamed funny at that, but I can't help +laughin' every time I think of how he must 'a' been grinnin' up his +sleeve at me for my fool mistake. I'll say he brought it on himself, +though. He was feelin' guilty on his brother's account, an' I didn't +get his embarrassment right. James is a pretty cool customer. From +first to last he never turned a hair when the subject was mentioned." + +"What about him?" Rose asked. + +The cattleman pretended alarm. "Now, don't you," he remonstrated. +"Don't you expect me to manhandle James, too. I'm like Napoleon. +Another victory like the battle of last night would sure put me in the +hospital. I'm a peaceable citizen, a poor, lone cowboy far away from +home. Where I come from it's as quiet as a peace conference. This +wildest-Denver stuff gets my nerve." + +She smiled into his battered face. A dimple nestled in her soft, warm +cheek. "I see it does. It's a pity about you. I didn't suppose your +cousin Jack had it in him to spoil your beauty like that." + +"Neither did I," he said, answering her smile. "I sure picked on the +wrong man. He's one handy lad with his dibs--put me down twice before +we decided to call it off. I like that young fellow." + +"Better not like him too much. You may have to work against him yet." + +"True enough," he admitted, falling grave again. "As to James, we'll +ride close herd on him for a while, but we'll ride wide. Looks to me +like he may have to face a jury an' fight for his life right soon." + +"Do you think he killed your uncle?" + +"I don't want to think so. He's a bad egg, I'm afraid. But my +father's sister was his mother. I'd hate to have to believe it." + +"But in your heart you do believe it," she said gently. + +He looked at her. "I'm afraid so. But that's a long way from knowing +it." + +They parted at her boarding-house. + +A man rose to meet Kirby when he stepped into the rotunda of his hotel. +He was a gaunt, broad-shouldered man with ragged eyebrows. + +"Well, I came," he said, and his voice was harsh. + +"Glad to see you, Mr. Olson. Come up to my room. We can talk there +more freely." + +The Scandinavian rancher followed him to the elevator and from there to +his room. + +"Why don't they arrest Hull?" he demanded as soon as the door was +closed. + +"Not evidence enough." + +"Suppose I can give evidence. Say I practically saw Hull do it. Would +they arrest him--or me?" + +"They'd arrest him," Kirby answered. "They don't know you're the man +who wrote the threatening letter." + +"Hmp!" grunted the rancher suspiciously. "That's what _you_ say, but +you're not the whole works." + +Kirby offered a chair and a cigar. He sat down on the bed himself. +"Better spill your story to me, Olson. Two heads are better than one," +he said carelessly. + +The Swede's sullen eyes bored into him. Before that frank and engaging +smile his doubts lost force. "I got to take a chance. Might as well +be with you as any one." + +The Wyoming man struck a match, held it for the use of his guest, then +lit his own cigar. For a few moments they smoked in silence. Kirby +leaned back easily against the head of the bed. He did not intend to +frighten the rancher by hurrying him. + +"When Cunningham worked that crooked irrigation scheme of his on Dry +Valley, I reckon I was one of them that hollered the loudest. Prob'ly +I talked foolish about what all I was gonna do about it. I wasn't +blowin' off hot air either. If I'd got a good chance at him, or at +Hull either, I would surely have called for a showdown an' gunned him +if I could. But that wasn't what I came to Denver for. I had to +arrange about gettin' my mortgage renewed." + +He stopped and took a nervous puff or two at the cigar. Kirby nodded +in a friendly fashion without speaking. He did not want by anything he +might say to divert the man's mind from the track it was following. + +"I took a room at the Wyndham because the place had been recommended to +me by a neighbor of mine who knew the landlady. When I went there I +didn't know that either Cunningham or Hull lived next door. That's a +God's truth. I didn't. Well, I saw Hull go in there the very day I +got to town, but the first I knew yore uncle lived there was ten or +maybe fifteen minutes before he was killed. I wouldn't say but what it +was twenty minutes, come to that. I wasn't payin' no attention to +time." + +Olson's eyes challenged those of his host. His suspicion was still +smoldering. An unhappy remark, a look of distrust, might still have +dried up the stream of his story. But he found in that steady regard +nothing more damnatory than a keen, boyish interest. + +"Maybe you recollect how hot those days were. Well, in my cheap, +stuffy room, openin' on an air-shaft, it was hotter 'n hell with the +lid on. When I couldn't stand it any longer, I went out into the +corridor an' down it to the fire escape outside the window. It was a +lot cooler there. I lit a stogie an' sat on the railin' smokin', maybe +for a quarter of an hour. By-an'-by some one come into the apartment +right acrost the alley from me. I could see the lights come on. It +was a man. I saw him step into what must be the bedroom. He moved +around there some. I couldn't tell what he was doin' because he didn't +switch on the light, but he must 'a' been changin' to his easy coat an' +his slippers. I know that because he came into the room just opposite +the fire escape where I was sittin' on the rail. He threw on the +lights, an' I saw him plain. It was Cunningham, the old crook who had +beat me outa fifteen hundred dollars." + +Kirby smoked steadily, evenly. Not a flicker of the eyelids showed the +excitement racing through his blood. At last he was coming close to +the heart of the mystery that surrounded the deaths of his uncle and +his valet. + +"I reckon I saw red for a minute," Olson continued. "If I'd been +carryin' a gun I might 'a' used it right there an' then. But I hadn't +one, lucky for me. He sat down in a big easy-chair an' took a paper +from his pocket. It looked like some kind of a legal document. He +read it through, then stuck it in one o' the cubby-holes of his desk. +I forgot to say he was smokin', an' not a stogie like I was, but a big +cigar he'd unwrapped from silver paper after takin' it from a boxful." + +"He lighted the cigar after coming into the small room," Kirby said, in +the voice of a question. + +"Yes. Didn't I say so? Took it from a box on a stand near the chair. +Well, when he got through with the paper he leaned back an' kinda shut +his eyes like he was thinkin' somethin' over. All of a sudden I saw +him straighten up an' get rigid. Before he could rise from the chair a +woman came into the room an' after her a man. + +"The man was Cass Hull." + + + + +CHAPTER XXXIV + +FROM THE FIRE ESCAPE + +"The woman--what was she like?" + +"She was tall an' thin an' flat-chested. I didn't know her at the +time, but it must 'a' been Hull's wife." + +"You said you didn't know what time this was," Kirby said. + +"No. My old watch had quit doin' business an' I hated to spend the +money to get it fixed. The mainspring was busted, a jeweler told me." + +"Who spoke first after they came into the room?" + +"Yore uncle. He laid the cigar down on the stand an' asked them what +they wanted. He didn't rise from the chair, but his voice rasped when +he spoke. It was the woman answered. She took the lead all through. +'We've come for a settlement,' she said. 'An' we're goin' to have it +right now.' He stiffened up at that. He come back at her with, 'You +can't get no shot-gun settlement outa me.' Words just poured from that +woman's mouth. She roasted him to a turn, told how he was crooked as a +dog's hind leg an' every deal he touched was dirty. Said he couldn't +even be square to his own pardners, that he couldn't get a man, woman, +or child in Colorado to say he'd ever done a good act. Believe me, she +laid him out proper, an' every word of it was true, 'far as I know. + +"Well, sir, that old reprobate uncle of yours never batted an eye. He +slid down in his chair a little so's he could be comfortable while he +listened. He grinned up at her like she was some kind of specimen had +broke loose from a circus an' he was interested in the way it acted. +That didn't calm her down none. She rip-r'ared right along, with a +steady flow of words, mostly adjectives. Finally she quit, an' she was +plumb white with anger. 'Quite through?' yore uncle asked with that +ice-cold voice of his. She asked him what he intended to do about a +settlement. 'Not a thing,' he told her. 'I did aim to give Hull two +thousand to get rid of him. But I've changed my mind, ma'am. You can +go whistle for it.'" + +"Two thousand! Did he say two thousand?" + +Kirby leaned forward eagerly. + +"That's what he said. Two thousand," answered Olson. + +"Then that explains why he drew so much from the bank that day." + +"I had it figured out so. If the woman hadn't come at him with that +acid tongue of hers he'd intended to buy Hull off cheap. But she got +his gorge up. He wouldn't stand for her line of talk." + +"What took place then?" the cattleman questioned. + +"Still without rising from the chair, Cunningham ordered them to get +out. Hull was standin' kinda close to him. He had his back to me. +Cunningham reached out an' opened a drawer of the stand beside him. +The fat man took a step forward. I could see his gun flash in the +light. He swung it down on yore uncle's head an' the old man crumpled +up." + +"So it was Hull killed him, after all," Kirby said, drawing a long +breath of relief. + +Then, to his surprise when he thought about it later, a glitter of +malicious cunning lit the eyes of the rancher. + +"That's what I'm tellin' you. It was Hull. I stood there an' saw just +what I've been givin' you." + +"Was my uncle senseless then?" + +"You bet he was. His head sagged clear over against the back of the +chair." + +"What did they do then?" + +"That's where I drop out. Mrs. Hull stepped straight to the window. I +crouched down back of the railin'. It was dark an' she didn't see me. +She pulled the blind down. I waited there awhile an' afterward there +was the sound of a shot. That would be when they sent the bullet +through the old man's brain." + +"What did you do?" + +"I didn't know what to do. I'd talked a lot of wild talk about how +Cunningham ought to be shot or strung up to a pole. If I went to the +police with my story, like enough they 'd light on me as the killer. I +milled the whole thing over. After a while I went into a public booth +downtown an' 'phoned to the police. You recollect maybe the papers +spoke about the man who called up headquarters with the news of +Cunningham's death." + +"Yes, I recollect that all right." + +Kirby did not smile. He did not explain that he was the man. But he +resolved to find out whether two men had notified the police of his +uncle's death. If not, Olson was lying in at least one detail. He had +a suspicion that the man had not given him the whole truth. He was +telling part of it, but he was holding back something. A sly and +furtive look in his eyes helped to build this impression in the mind of +the man who listened to the story. + +"You didn't actually see Hull fire the shot that killed my uncle, then?" + +Olson hesitated, a fraction of a second. "No." + +"You don't know that it was he that fired it." + +"No, it might 'a' been the woman. But it ain't likely he handed her +the gun to do it with, is it? For that matter I don't know that the +crack over the head didn't kill Cunningham. Maybe it did." + +"That's all you saw?" + +Again the almost imperceptible hesitation. Then, "That's all," the Dry +Valley rancher said sullenly. + +"What kind of a gun was it?" Kirby asked. + +"Too far away. Couldn't be sure." + +"Big as a.45?" + +"Couldn't 'a' been. The evidence was that it was done with an +automatic." + +"The evidence was that the wound in the head was probably made by a +bullet from an automatic. We're talkin' now about the blow _on_ the +head." + +"What are you drivin' at?" the rancher asked, scowling. "He wouldn't +bring two different kinds of gun with him. That's a cinch." + +"No; but we haven't proved yet he fired the shot you heard later. The +chances are all that he did, but legally we have no evidence that +somebody else didn't do it." + +"I guess a jury would be satisfied he fired it all right." + +"Probably. It looks bad for Hull. Don't you think you ought to go to +the police with your story? Then we can have Hull arrested. They'll +give him the third degree. My opinion is he'll break down under it and +confess." + +Olson consented with obvious reluctance, but he made a condition +precedent to his acceptance. "Le' 's see Hull first, just you 'n' me. +I ain't strong for the police. We'll go to them when we've got an open +an' shut case." + +Kirby considered. This story didn't wholly fit the facts as he knew +them. For instance, there was no explanation in it of how the room +where Cunningham was found murdered had become saturated with the odor +of chloroform. Nor was it in character that Hull should risk firing a +gun, the sound of which might bring detection on him, while his victim +lay helpless before him. Another blow or two on the skull would have +served his purpose noiselessly. The cattleman knew from his +observation of this case that the authorities had a way of muddling +things. Perhaps it would be better to wait until the difficulties had +been smoothed out before going to them. + +"That suits me," he said. "We'll tackle Hull when his wife isn't with +him. He goes downtown every day about ten o'clock. We'll pick him up +in a taxi, run him out into the country somewhere, an' put him over the +jumps. The sooner the quicker. How about to-morrow morning?" + +"Suits me, too. But will he go with us?" + +"He'll go with us," Kirby said quietly. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXV + +LIKE A THIEF IN THE NIGHT + +From ten thousand bulbs the moving-picture houses of Curtis Street were +flinging a glow upon the packed sidewalks when Kirby came out of the +hotel and started uptown. + +He walked to the Wyndham, entered, and slipped up the stairs of the +rooming-house unnoticed. From the third story he ascended by a ladder +to the flat roof. He knew exactly what he had come to investigate. +From one of the windows of the fourth floor at the Paradox he had +noticed the clothes-line which stretched across the Wyndham roof from +one corner to another. He went straight to one of the posts which +supported the rope. He made a careful study of this, then walked to +the other upright support and examined the knots which held the line +fast here. + +"I'm some good little guesser," he murmured to himself as he turned +back to the ladder and descended to the floor below. + +He moved quietly along the corridor to the fire escape and stepped out +upon it. Then, very quickly and expertly, he coiled a rope which he +took from a paper parcel that had been under his arm. At one end of +the coil was a loop. He swung this lightly round his head once or +twice to feel the weight of it. The rope snaked forward and up. Its +loop dropped upon the stone abutment he had noticed when he had been +examining the exteriors of the buildings with Cole Sanborn. It +tightened when he gave a jerk. + +Kirby climbed over the railing and swung himself lightly out into +space. A moment, and he was swaying beside the fire escape of the +Paradox. He caught the iron rail and pulled himself to the platform. + +By chance the blind was down. There was no light within, but after his +eyes had become used to the darkness he tried to take a squint at the +room from the sides of the blind. The shade hung an inch or two from +the window frame, so that by holding his eye close he could get more +than a glimpse of the interior. + +He tapped gently on the glass. The lights inside flashed on. From one +viewpoint he could see almost half the room. He could go to the other +side of the blind and see most of the other half. + +A man sat down in a chair close to the opposite wall, letting his hands +fall on the arms. A girl stood in front of him and pointed a +paper-knife at his head, holding it as though it were a revolver. The +head of the man fell sideways. + +Kirby tapped on the window pane again. He edged up the sash and +stepped into the room. + +The young woman turned to him eagerly, a warm glow in her shell-pink +cheeks. "Well?" she inquired. + +"Worked out fine, Rose," Kirby said. "I could see the whole thing." + +"Still, that don't prove anything," the other man put in. He belonged +to the staff of the private detective agency with which Kirby was +dealing. + +The Wyoming man smiled. "It proves my theory is possible. Knowing +Olson, I'm willin' to gamble he didn't sit still on the fire escape an' +let that drawn blind shut him off from what was goin' on inside. He +was one mighty interested observer. Now he must 'a' known there was a +clothes-line on the roof. From the street you can see a washin' +hangin' out there any old time. In his place I'd 'a' bopped up to the +roof an' got that line. Which is exactly what he did, I'll bet. The +line had been tied to the posts with a lot of knots. He hadn't time to +untie it. So he cut the rope. It's been spliced out since by a piece +of rope of a different kind." + +"How do you know that's been done since?" the detective asked. + +"A fair question," Kirby nodded. "I don't. I'll find out about that +when I talk with the landlady of the Wyndham. If I'm right you can bet +that cut rope has puzzled her some. She can't figure out why any one +would cut her rope down an' then leave it there." + +"If you can show me her rope was cut that night, I'll say you're +right," the detective admitted. "And if you are right, then the Swede +must 'a' been right here when your uncle was killed." + +"_May_ have been," Kirby corrected. "We haven't any authentic evidence +yet as to exactly when my uncle was killed. We're gettin' the time +narrowed down. It was between 9.30 and 9.50. We know that." + +"How do you know that?" the professional sleuth asked. "Accordin' to +your story you didn't get into the apartment until after ten o'clock. +It might 'a' been done any time up till then." + +The eyes of Kirby and Rose met. They had private information about who +was in the rooms from about 9.55 till 10.10. + +The cattleman corrected his statement. "All right, say between 9.30 +and 10.05. During that time Hull may have shot my uncle. Or Olson may +have opened the window while my uncle lay there helpless, killed him, +stepped outa the window again, an' slipped down by the fire escape. +All he'd have to do then would be to walk into the Wyndham, replace the +rope on the roof, an' next mornin' leave for Dry Valley." + +The detective nodded. "_If_ he cut the rope. Lemme find out from the +landlady whether it _was_ cut that night." + +"Good. We'll wait for you at the corner." + +Ten minutes later the detective joined them in front of the drug-store +where they were standing. The hard eyes in his cold gambler's face +were lit up for once. + +"I'll say the man from Missouri has been shown," he said. "I let on to +the dame at the Wyndham that I was after a gang of young sneak thieves +in the neighborhood. Pretty soon I drifted her to the night of the +twenty-third--said they 'd been especially active that night and had +used a rope to get into a second story of a building. She woke up. +Her clothesline on the roof had been cut that very night. She +remembered the night on account of its being the one when Mr. +Cunningham was killed. Could the boys have used it to get into the +store an' then brought it back? I thought likely." + +"Bully! We're one step nearer than we were. We know Olson was lookin' +in the window from the fire escape just outside." + +The detective slapped his thigh. "It lies between Hull and the Swede. +That's a cinch." + +"I believe it does," agreed Rose. + +Kirby made no comment. He seemed to be absorbed in speculations of his +own. The detective was reasoning from a very partial knowledge of the +facts. He knew nothing about the relations of James Cunningham to his +uncle, nor even that the younger Cunninghams--or at least one of +them--had been in his uncle's apartment the evening of his death. He +did not know that Rose had been there. Wherefore his deductions, even +though they had the benefit of being trained ones, were of slight value +in this case. + +"Will you take the key back to the Chief of Police?" Kirby asked him as +they separated. "Better not tell him who was with you or what we were +doin'." + +"I'm liable to tell him a whole lot," the detective answered with heavy +irony. "I'm figurin' on runnin' down this murderer myself if any one +asks you." + +"Wish you luck," Kirby said with perfect gravity. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXVI + +A RIDE IN A TAXI + +Kirby was quite right when he said that Hull would go with them. He +was on his way downtown when the taxi caught him at Fourteenth and +Welton. The cattleman jumped out from the machine and touched the fat +man on the arm as he was waddling past. + +"We want you, Hull," he said. + +A shadow of fear flitted over the shallow eyes of the land agent, but +he attempted at once to bluster. "Who wants me? Whadjawant me for?" + +"I want you--in that cab. The man who saw you in my uncle's room the +night he was killed is with me. You can either come with us now an' +talk this thing over quietly or I'll hang on to you an' call for a +policeman. It's up to you. Either way is agreeable to me." + +Beads of perspiration broke out on the fat man's forehead. He dragged +from his left hip pocket the familiar bandanna handkerchief. With it +he dabbed softly at his mottled face. There was a faint, a very faint, +note of defiance in his voice as he answered. + +"I dunno as I've got any call to go with you. I wasn't in Cunningham's +rooms. You can't touch me--can't prove a thing on me." + +"It won't cost you anything to make sure of that," Kirby suggested in +his low, even tones. "I'm payin' for the ride." + +"If you got anything to say to me, right here's a good place to onload +it." + +The man's will was wobbling. The cattleman could see that. + +"Can't talk here, with a hundred people passin'. What's the matter, +man? What are you afraid of? _We're not goin' to hit you over the +head with the butt of a six-shooter_." + +Hull flung at him a look of startled terror. What did he mean? Or was +there anything significant in the last sentence? Was it just a shot in +the dark? + +"I'll go on back to the Paradox. If you want to see me, why, there's +as good a place as any." + +"We're choosin' the place, Hull, not you. You'll either step into that +cab or into a patrol wagon." + +Their eyes met and fought. The shallow, protuberant ones wavered. +"Oh, well, it ain't worth chewin' the rag over. I reckon I'll go with +you." + +He stepped into the cab. At sight of Olson he showed both dismay and +surprise. He had heard of the threats the Dry Valley man had been +making. Was he starting on a journey the end of which would be summary +vengeance? A glance at Lane's face reassured him. This young fellow +would be no accomplice at murder. Yet the chill at his heart told him +he was in for serious trouble. + +He tried to placate Olson with a smile and made a motion to offer his +hand. The Scandinavian glared at him. + +The taxicab swung down Fourteenth, across the viaduct to Lake Place, +and from it to Federal Boulevard. + +Hull moistened his lips with his tongue and broke the silence. "Where +we goin'?" he asked at last. + +"Where we can talk without bein' overheard," Kirby answered. + +The cab ran up the steep slope to Inspiration Point and stopped there. +The men got out. + +"Come back for us in half an hour," the cattleman told the driver. + +In front and below them lay the beautiful valley of Clear Creek. +Beyond it were the foothills, and back of them the line of the Front +Range stretching from Pike's Peak at the south up to the Wyoming line. +Grey's and Long's and Mount Evans stood out like giant sentinels in the +clear sunshine. + +Hull looked across the valley nervously and brought his eyes back with +a jerk. "Well, what's it all about? Whadjawant?" + +"I know now why you lied at the inquest about the time you saw me on +the night my uncle was killed," Kirby told him. + +"I didn't lie. Maybe I was mistaken. Any man's liable to make a +mistake." + +"You didn't make a mistake. You deliberately twisted your story so as +to get me into my uncle's apartment forty minutes or so earlier than I +was. Your reason was a good one. If I was in his rooms at the time he +was shot, that let you out completely. So you tried to lie me into the +death cell at Cañon City." + +Hull's bandanna was busy. "Nothin' like that. I wouldn't play no such +a trick on any man. No, sir." + +"You wouldn't, but you did. Don't stall, Hull. We've got you right." + +The rancher from Dry Valley broke in venomously. "You bet we have, you +rotten crook. I'll pay you back proper for that deal you an' +Cunningham slipped over on me. I'm gonna put a rope round yore neck +for it. I sure am. Why, you big fat stiff, I was standin' watchin' +you when you knocked out Cunningham with the butt of yore gun." + +From Hull's red face the color fled. He teetered for a moment on the +balls of his feet, then sank limply to the cement bench in front of +him. He tried to gasp out a denial, but the words would not come. In +his throat there was only a dry rattle. + +He heard, as from a long distance, Lane's voice addressing him. + +"We've got it on you, Hull. Come through an' come clean." + +"I--I--I swear to God I didn't do it--didn't kill him," he gasped at +last. + +"Then who did--yore wife?" demanded Olson. + +"Neither of us. I--I'll tell you-all the whole story." + +"Do you know who did kill him?" Kirby persisted. + +"I come pretty near knowing but I didn't see it done." + +"Who, then?" + +"Yore cousin--James Cunningham." + + + + +CHAPTER XXXVII + +ON THE GRILL + +In spite of the fact that his mind had at times moved toward his cousin +James as the murderer, Kirby experienced a shock at this accusation. +He happened to glance at Olson, perhaps to see the effect of it upon +him. + +The effect was slight, but it startled Kirby. For just an instant the +Dry Valley farmer's eyes told the truth--shouted it as plainly as words +could have done. He had expected that answer from Hull. He had +expected it because he, too, had reason to believe it the truth. Then +the lids narrowed, and the man's lip lifted in a sneer of rejection. +He was covering up. + +"Pretty near up to you to find some one else to pass the buck to, ain't +it?" he taunted. + +"Suppose you tell us the whole story, Hull," the Wyoming man said. + +The fat man had one last flare of resistance. "Olson here says he seen +me crack Cunningham with the butt of my gun. How did he see me? Where +does he claim he was when he seen it?" + +"I was standin' on the fire escape of the Wyndham across the +alley--about ten or fifteen feet away. I heard every word that was +said by Cunningham an' yore wife. Oh, I've got you good." + +Hull threw up the sponge. He was caught and realized it. His only +chance now was to make a clean breast of what he knew. + +"Where shall I begin?" he asked weakly, his voice quavering. + +"At the beginning. We've got plenty of time," Kirby replied. + +"Well, you know how yore uncle beat me in that Dry Valley scheme of +his. First place, I didn't know he couldn't get water enough. If he +give the farmers a crooked deal, I hadn't a thing to do with that. +When I talked up the idea to them I was actin' in good faith." + +"Lie number one," interrupted Olson bitterly. + +"Hadn't we better let him tell his story in his own way?" Kirby +suggested. "If we don't start any arguments he ain't so liable to get +mixed up in his facts." + +"By my way of figurin' he owed me about four to six thousand dollars he +wouldn't pay," Hull went on. "I tried to get him to see it right, +thinkin' at first he was just bull-headed. But pretty soon I got wise +to it that he plain intended to do me. O' course I wasn't goin' to +stand for that, an' I told him so." + +"What do you mean when you say you weren't goin' to stand for it. My +uncle told a witness that you said you'd give him two days, then you'd +come at him with a gun." + +The fat man mopped a perspiring face with his bandanna. His eyes +dodged. "Maybe I told him so. I don't recollect. When he's sore a +fellow talks a heap o' foolishness. I wasn't lookin' for trouble, +though." + +"Not even after he threw you downstairs?" + +"No, sir. He didn't exactly throw me down. I kinda slipped. If I'd +been expectin' trouble would I have let Mrs. Hull go up to his rooms +with me?" + +Kirby had his own view on that point, but he did not express it. He +rather thought that Mrs. Hull had driven her husband upstairs and had +gone along to see that he stood to his guns. Once in the presence of +Cunningham, she had taken the bit in her own teeth, driven to it by +temper. This was his guess. He knew he might be wrong. + +"But I knew how violent he was," the fat man went on. "So I slipped my +six-gun into my pocket before we started." + +"What kind of a gun?" Kirby asked. + +"A sawed-off .38." + +"Do you own an automatic?" + +"No, sir. Wouldn't know how to work one. Never had one in my hands." + +"You'll get a chance to prove that," Olson jeered. + +"He doesn't have to prove it. His statement is assumed to be true +until it is proved false," Kirby answered. + +Hull's eyes signaled gratitude. He was where he needed a friend badly. +He would be willing to pay almost any price for Lane's help. + +"Cunningham had left the door open, I reckon because it was hot. I +started to push the bell, but Mrs. Hull she walked right in an' of +course then I followed. He wasn't in the sittin'-room, but we seen him +smokin' in the small room off'n the parlor. So we just went in on him. + +"He acted mean right from the start--hollered at Mrs. Hull what was we +doin' there. She up an' told him, real civil, that we wanted to talk +the business over an' see if we couldn't come to some agreement about +it. He kep' right on insultin' her, an' one thing led to another. +Mrs. Hull she didn't get mad, but she told him where he'd have to head +in at. Fact is, we'd about made up our minds to sue him. Well, he +went clean off the handle then, an' said he wouldn't do a thing for us, +an' how we was to get right out." + +Hull paused to wipe the small sweat beads from his forehead. He was +not enjoying himself. A cold terror constricted his heart. Was he +slipping a noose over his own head? Was he telling more than he +should? He wished his wife were here to give him a hint. She had the +brains as well as the courage and audacity of the family. + +"Well, sir, I claim self-defense," Hull went on presently. "A man's +got no call to stand by an' see his wife shot down. Cunningham reached +for a drawer an' started to pull out an automatic gun. Knowin' him, I +was scared. I beat him to it an' lammed him one over the head with my +gun. My idea was to head him off from drawin' on Mrs. Hull, but I +reckon I hit him harder than I'd aimed to. It knocked him senseless." + +"And then?" Kirby said, when he paused. + +"I was struck all of a heap, but Mrs. Hull she didn't lose her presence +of mind. She went to the window an' pulled down the curtain. Then we +figured, seein' as how we'd got in bad so far, we might as well try a +bluff. We tied yore uncle to the chair, intendin' for to make him sign +a check before we turned him loose. Right at that time the telephone +rang." + +"Did you answer the call?" + +"Yes, sir. It kept ringing. Finally the wife said to answer it, +pretendin' I was Cunningham. We was kinda scared some one might butt +in on us. Yore uncle had said he was expectin' some folks." + +"What did you do?" + +"I took up the receiver an' listened. Then I said, 'Hello!' Fellow at +the other end said, 'This you, Uncle James?' Kinda grufflike, I said, +'Yes.' Then, 'James talkin',' he said. 'We're on our way over now.' I +was struck all of a heap, not knowin' what to say. So I called back, +'Who?' He came back with, 'Phyllis an' I.' I hung up." + +"And then?" + +"We talked it over, the wife an' me. We didn't know how close James, +as he called himself, was when he was talkin'. He might be at the +drug-store on the next corner for all we knew. We were in one hell of +a hole, an' it didn't look like there was any way out. We decided to +beat it right then. That's what we did." + +"You left the apartment?" + +"Yes, sir." + +"With my uncle still tied up?" + +Hull nodded. "We got panicky an' cut our stick." + +"Did anybody see you go?" + +"The Jap janitor was in the hall fixin' one of the windows that was +stuck." + +"Did he say anything?" + +"Not then." + +"Afterward?" + +"He come to me after the murder was discovered--next day, I reckon it +was, in the afternoon, just before the inquest--and said could I lend +him five hundred dollars. Well, I knew right away it was a hold-up, +but I couldn't do a thing. I dug up the money an' let him have it." + +"Has he bothered you since?" + +Hull hesitated. "Well--no." + +"Meanin' that he has?" + +Hull flew the usual flag of distress, a red bandanna mopping a +perspiring, apoplectic face. "He kinda hinted he wanted more money." + +"Did you give it to him?" + +"I didn't have it right handy. I stalled." + +"That's the trouble with a blackmailer. Give way to him once an' he's +got you in his power," Kirby said. "The thing to do is to tell him +right off the reel to go to Halifax." + +"If a fellow can afford to," Olson put in significantly. "When you've +just got through a little private murder of yore own, you ain't exactly +free to tell one of the witnesses against you to go very far." + +"Tell you I didn't kill Cunningham," Hull retorted sullenly. "Some one +else must 'a' come in an' did that after I left." + +"Sounds reasonable," Olson murmured with heavy sarcasm. + +"Was the hall lit when you came out of my uncle's rooms?" Kirby asked +suddenly. + +"Yes. I told you Shibo was workin' at one of the windows." + +"So Shibo saw you and Mrs. Hull plainly?" + +"I ain't denyin' he saw us," Hull replied testily. + +"No, you don't deny anything we can prove on you," the Dry Valley man +jeered. + +"And Shibo didn't let up on you. He kept annoyin' you afterward," the +cattleman persisted. + +"Well, he--I reckon he aims to be reasonable now," Hull said uneasily. + +"Why now? What's changed his views?" + +The fat man looked again at this brown-faced youngster with the +single-track mind who never quit till he got what he wanted. Why was +he shaking the bones of Shibo's blackmailing. Did he know more than he +had told? It was on the tip of Hull's tongue to tell something more, a +damnatory fact against himself. But he stopped in time. He was in +deep enough water already. He could not afford to tell the dynamic +cattleman anything that would make an enemy of him. + +"Well, I reckon he can't get blood from a turnip, as the old sayin' +is," the land agent returned. + +Kirby knew that Hull was concealing something material, but he saw he +could not at the present moment wring it from him. He had not, in +point of fact, the faintest idea of what it was. Therefore he could +not lay 'hold of any lever with which to pry it loose. He harked back +to another point. + +"Do you know that my cousin and Miss Harriman came to see my uncle that +night? I mean do you know of your own eyesight that they ever reached +his apartment?" + +"Well, we know they reached the Paradox an' went up in the elevator. +Me an' the wife watched at the window. Yore cousin James wasn't with +Miss Harriman. The dude one was with her." + +"Jack!" exclaimed Kirby, astonished. + +"Yep." + +"How do you know? How did you recognize them?" + +"Saw 'em as they passed under the street light about twenty feet from +our window. We couldn't 'a' been mistook as to the dude fellow. O' +course we don't know Miss Harriman, but the woman walkin' beside the +young fellow surely looked like the one that fainted at the inquest +when you was testifyin' how you found yore uncle dead in the chair. I +reckon when you said it she got to seein' a picture of one of the young +fellows gunnin' their uncle." + +"One of them. You just said James wasn't with her." + +"No, he come first. Maybe three-four minutes before the others." + +"What time did he reach the Paradox?" + +"It might 'a' been ten or maybe only five minutes after we left yore +uncle's room. The wife an' me was talkin' it over whether I hadn't +ought to slip back upstairs and untie yore uncle before they got here. +Then he come an' that settled it. I couldn't go." + +"Can you give me the exact time he reached the apartment house?" + +"Well, I'll say it was a quarter to ten." + +"Do you know or are you guessin'?" + +"I know. Our clock struck the quarter to whilst we looked at them +comin' down the street." + +"At them or at him?" + +"At him, I mean." + +"Can't stick to his own story," Olson grunted. + +"A slip of the tongue. I meant him." + +"And Jack and the lady were three or four minutes behind him?" Kirby +reiterated. + +"Yes." + +"Was your clock exactly right?" + +"May be five minutes fast. It gains." + +"You know they turned in at the Paradox?" + +"All three of 'em. Mrs. Hull she opened the door a mite an' saw 'em go +up in the elevator. It moves kinda slow, you know. The heavy-set +young fellow went up first. Then two-three minutes later the elevator +went down an' the dude an' the young lady went up." + +Kirby put his foot on the cement bench and rested his forearm on his +knee. The cattleman's steady eyes were level with those of the unhappy +man making the confession. + +"Did you at any time hear the sound of a shot?" + +"Well, I--I heard somethin'. At the time I thought maybe it was a tire +in the street blowin' out. But come to think of it later we figured it +was a shot." + +"You don't know for sure." + +"Well, come to that I--I don't reckon I do. Not to say for certain +sure." + +A tense litheness had passed into the rough rider's figure. It was as +though every sense were alert to catch and register impressions. + +"At what time was it you thought you heard this shot?" + +"I dunno, to the minute." + +"Was it before James Cunningham went up in the elevator? Was it +between the time he went up an' the other two went up? Or was it after +Jack Cunningham an' Miss Harriman passed on the way up?" + +"Seems to me it was--" + +"Hold on." Kirby raised a hand in protest. "I don't want any guesses. +You know or you don't. Which is it?" + +"I reckon it was between the time yore cousin James went up an' the +others followed." + +"You reckon? I'm askin' for definite information. A man's life may +hang on this." The cattleman's eyes were ice-cold. + +Hull swallowed a lump in his fat throat before he committed himself. +"Well, it was." + +"Was between the two trips of the elevator, you mean?" + +"Yes." + +"Your wife heard this sound, too?" + +"Yep. We spoke of it afterward." + +"Do you know anything else that could possibly have had any bearing on +my uncle's death?" + +"No, sir. Honest I don't." + +Olson shot a question at the man on the grill. "Did you kill the Jap +servant, too, as well as his boss?" + +"I didn't kill either the one or the other, so help me." + +"Do you know anything at all about the Jap's death? Did you see +anything suspicious going on at any time?" Kirby asked. + +"No, sir. Nothin' a-tall." + +The rough rider signaled the taxicab, which was circling the lake at +the foot of the hill. Presently it came up the incline and took on its +passengers. + +"Drive to the Paradox Apartments," Kirby directed. + +He left Hull outside in the cab while he went in to interview his wife. +The lean woman with the forbidding countenance opened the door. + +Metaphorically speaking, Kirby landed his knockout instantly. "I've +come to see you on serious business, Mrs. Hull. Your husband has +confessed how he did for my uncle. Unless you tell the whole truth +he's likely to go to the death cell." + +She gasped, her fear-filled eyes fastened on him. Her hand moved +blindly to the side of the door for support. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXVIII + +A FULL MORNING + +But only for an instant. A faint color dribbled back into her yellow +cheeks. He could almost see courage flowing again into her veins. + +"That's a lie," she said flatly. + +"I don't expect you to take my word. Hull is in front of the house +here under guard. Come an' see if you doubt it." + +She took him promptly at his suggestion. One look at her husband's +fat, huddled figure and stricken face was enough. + +"You chicken-hearted louse," she spat at him scornfully. + +"They had evidence. A man saw us," he pleaded. + +"What man?" + +"This man." His trembling hand indicated Olson. "He was standin' on +the fire escape acrost the alley." + +She had nothing to say. The wind had died out of the sails of her +anger. + +"We're not goin' to arrest Hull yet--not technically," Kirby explained +to her. "I'm arrangin' to hire a private detective to be with him all +the time. He'll keep him in sight from mornin' till night. Is that +satisfactory, Hull? Or do you prefer to be arrested?" + +The wretched man murmured that he would leave it to Lane. + +"Good. Then that's the way it'll be." Kirby turned to the woman. +"Mrs. Hull, I want to ask you a few questions. If you'll kindly walk +into the house, please." + +She moved beside him. The shock of the surprise still palsied her will. + +In the main her story corroborated that of Hull. She was not quite +sure when she had heard the shot in its relation to the trips of the +elevator up and down. The door was closed at the time. They had heard +it while standing at the window. Her impression was that the sound had +come after James Cunningham had ascended to the floor above. + +Kirby put one question to the woman innocently that sent the color +washing out of her cheeks. + +"Which of you went back upstairs to untie my uncle after you had run +away in a fright?" + +"N-neither of us," she answered, teeth chattering from sheer funk. + +"I understood Mr. Hull to say--" + +"He never said that. Y-you must be mistaken." + +"Mebbeso. You didn't go back, then?" + +The monosyllable "No" came quavering from her yellow throat. + +"I don't want you to feel that I'm here to take an advantage of you, +Mrs. Hull," Kirby said. "A good many have been suspected of these +murders. Your husband is one of these suspects. I'm another. I mean +to find out who killed Cunningham an' Horikawa. I think I know +already. In my judgment your husband didn't do it. If he did, so much +the worse for him. No innocent person has anything to fear from me. +But this is the point I'm makin' now. If you like I'll leave a +statement here signed by me to the effect that neither you nor your +husband has confessed killing James Cunningham. It might make your +mind a little easier to have it." + +She hesitated. "Well, if you like." + +He stepped to a desk and found paper and pen. "I'll dictate it if +you'll write it, Mrs. Hull." + +Not quite easy in her mind, the woman sat down and took the pen he +offered. + +"This is to certify--" Kirby began, and dictated a few sentences slowly. + +She wrote the statement, word for word as he gave it, _using her left +hand_. The cattleman signed it. He left the paper with her. + +After the arrangement for the private detective to watch Hull had been +made, Olson and Lane walked together to the hotel of the latter. + +"Come up to my room a minute and let's talk things over," Kirby +suggested. + +As soon as the door was closed, the man from Twin Buttes turned on the +farmer and flung a swift demand at him. + +"Now, Olson, I'll hear the rest of your story." + +The eyes of the Swede grew hard and narrow. "What's bitin' you? I've +told you my story." + +"Some of it. Not all of it." + +"Whadjamean?" + +"You told me what you saw from the fire escape of the Wyndham, but _you +didn't tell what you saw from the fire escape of the Paradox_." + +"Who says I saw anything from there?" + +"I say so." + +"You tryin' to hang this killin' on me?" demanded Olson angrily. + +"Not if you didn't do it." Kirby looked at him quietly, speculatively, +undisturbed by the heaviness of his frown. "But you come to me an' +tell the story of what you saw. So you say. Yet all the time you're +holdin' back. Why? What's your reason?" + +"How do you know I'm holdin' back?" the ranchman asked sulkily. + +Kirby knew that in his mind suspicion, dread, fear, hatred, and the +desire for revenge were once more at open war. + +"I'll tell you what you did that night," answered Kirby, without the +least trace of doubt in voice or manner. "When Mrs. Hull pulled down +the blind, you ran up to the roof an' cut down the clothes-line. You +went back to the fire escape, fixed up some kind of a lariat, an' flung +the loop over an abutment stickin' from the wall of the Paradox. You +swung across to the fire escape of the Paradox. There you could see +into the room where Cunningham was tied to the chair." + +"How could I if the blind was down?" + +"The blind doesn't fit close to the woodwork of the window. Lookin' in +from the right, you can see the left half of the room. If you look in +from the other side, you see the other part of it. That's just what +you did." + +For the moment Olson was struck dumb. How could this man know exactly +what he had done unless some one had seen him? + +"You know so much I reckon I'll let you tell the rest," the +Scandinavian said with uneasy sarcasm. + +"Afraid you'll have to talk, Olson. Either to me or to the Chief at +headquarters. You've become a live suspect. Figure it out yourself. +You threaten Cunningham by mail. You make threats before people +orally. You come to Denver an' take a room in the next house to where +he lives. On the night he's killed, by your own admission, you stand +on the platform a few feet away an' raise no alarm while you see him +slugged. Later, you hear the shot that kills him an' still you don't +call the officers. Yet you're so interested in the crime that you run +upstairs, cut down the clothes-line, an' at some danger swing over to +the Paradox. The question the police will want to know is whether the +man who does this an' then keeps it secret may not have the best reason +in the world for not wanting it known." + +"What you mean--the best reason in the world?" + +"They'll ask what's to have prevented you from openin' the window an' +steppin' in while my uncle was tied up, from shootin' him an' slippin' +down the fire escape, an' from walkin' back upstairs to your own room +at the Wyndham." + +"Are you claimin' that I killed him?" Olson wanted to know. + +"I'm tellin' you that the police will surely raise the question." + +"If they do I'll tell 'em who did," the rancher blurted out wildly. + +"I'd tell 'em first, it I were in your place. It'll have a lot more +weight than if you keep still until your back's against the wall." + +"When I do you'll sit up an' take notice. The man who shot Cunningham +is yore own cousin," the Dry Valley man flung out vindictively. + +"Which one?" + +"The smug one--James." + +"You saw him do it?" + +"I heard the shot while I was on the roof. When I looked round the +edge of the blind five minutes later, he was goin' over the papers in +the desk--and an automatic pistol was there right by his hand." + +"He was alone?" + +"At first he was. In about a minute his brother an' Miss Harriman came +into the room. She screamed when she saw yore uncle an' most fainted. +The other brother, the young one, kinda caught her an' steadied her. +He was struck all of a heap himself. You could see that. He looked at +James, an' he said, 'My God, you didn't--' That was all. No need to +finish. O' course James denied it. He'd jumped up to help support +Miss Harriman outa the room. Maybe a coupla minutes later he came back +alone. He went right straight back to the desk, found inside of three +seconds the legal document I told you I'd seen his uncle reading +glanced it over, turned to the back page, jammed the paper back in the +cubby-hole, an' then switched off the light. A minute later the light +was switched off in the big room, too. Then I reckoned it was time to +beat it down the fire escape. I did. I went back into the Wyndham +carryin' the clothes-line under my coat, walked upstairs without +meetin' anybody, left the rope on the roof, an' got outa the house +without being seen." + +"That's the whole story?" Kirby said. + +"The whole story. I'd swear it on a stack of Bibles." + +"Did you fix the rope for a lariat up on the roof or wait till you came +back to the fire escape?" + +"I fixed it on the roof--made the loop an' all there. Figured I might +be seen if I stood around too long on the platform." + +"So that you must 'a' been away quite a little while." + +"I reckon so. Prob'ly a quarter of an hour or more." + +"Can you locate more definitely the exact time you heard the shot?" + +"No, I don't reckon I can." + +Kirby asked only one more question. + +"You left next mornin' for Dry Valley, didn't you?" + +"Yes. None o' my business if they stuck Hull for it. He was guilty as +sin, anyhow. If he didn't kill the old man, it wasn't because he +didn't want to. Maybe he did. The testimony at the inquest, as I read +the papers, left it that maybe the blow on the head had killed +Cunningham. Anyhow, I wasn't gonna mix myself in it." + +Kirby said nothing. He looked out of the window of his room without +seeing anything. His thoughts were focused on the problem before him. + +The other man stirred uneasily. "Think I did it?" he asked. + +The cattleman brought his gaze back to the Dry Valley settler. "You? +Oh, no! You didn't do it." + +There was such quiet certainty in his manner that Olson drew a deep +breath of relief. "By Jupiter, I'm glad to hear you say so. What made +you change yore mind?" + +"Haven't changed it. Knew that all the time--well, not all the time. +I was millin' you over in my mind quite a bit while you were holdin' +out on me. Couldn't be dead sure whether you were hidin' what you knew +just to hurt Hull or because of your own guilt." + +"Still, I don't see how you're sure yet. I might 'a' gone in by the +window an' gunned Cunningham like you said." + +"Yes, you might have, but you didn't. I'm not goin' to have you +arrested, Olson, but I want you to stay in Denver for a day or two +until this is settled. We may need you as a witness. It won't be +long. I'll see your expenses are paid while you're here." + +"I'm free to come an' go as I please?" + +"Absolutely." Kirby looked at him with level eyes. He spoke quite as +a matter of course. "You're no fool, Olson. You wouldn't stir up +suspicion against yourself again by runnin' away now, after I tell you +that my eye is on the one that did it." + +The Swede started. "You mean--now?" + +"Not this very minute," Kirby laughed. "I mean I've got the person +spotted, at least I think I have. I've made a lot of mistakes since I +started roundin' up this fellow with the brand of Cain. Maybe I'm +makin' another. But I've a hunch that I'm ridin' herd on the right one +this time." + +He rose. Olson took the hint. He would have liked to ask some +questions, for his mind was filled with a burning curiosity. But his +host's manner did not invite them. The rancher left. + +Up and down his room Kirby paced a beat from the window to the door and +back again. His mind was busy dissecting, analyzing, classifying. +Some one had once remarked that he had a single-track mind. In one +sense he had. The habit of it was to follow a train of thought to its +logical conclusion. He did not hop from one thing to another +inconsequently. + +Just now his brain was working on his cousin James. He went back to +the first day of his arrival in Denver and sifted the evidence for and +against him. A stream of details, fugitive impressions, and mental +reactions flooded through. + +For one of so cold a temperament James had been distinctly friendly to +him. He had gone out of his way to find bond for him when he had been +arrested. He had tried to smooth over difficulties between him and +Jack. But Kirby, against his desire, found practical reasons of policy +to explain these overtures. James had known he would soon be released +through the efforts of other cattlemen. He had stepped in to win the +Wyoming cousin's confidence in order that he might prove an asset +rather than a liability to his cause. The oil broker had readily +agreed to protect Esther McLean from publicity, but the reason for his +forbearance was quite plain now. He had been protecting himself, not +her. + +The man's relation to Esther proved him selfish and without principle. +He had been willing to let his dead uncle bear the odium of his +misdeed. Yet beneath the surface of his cold manner James was probably +swept by heady passions. His love for Phyllis Harriman had carried him +beyond prudence, beyond honor. He had duped the uncle whose good-will +he had carefully fostered for many years, and at the hour of his +uncle's death he had been due to reap the whirlwind. + +The problem sifted down to two factors. One was the time element. The +other was the temperament of James. A man may be unprincipled and yet +draw the line at murder. He may be a seducer and still lack the +courage and the cowardice for a cold-blooded killing. Kirby had +studied his cousin, but the man was more or less of a sphinx to him. +Behind those cold, calculating eyes what was he thinking? + +Only once had he seen him thrown off his poise. That was when Kirby +and Rose had met him coming out of the Paradox white and shaken, his +arm wrenched and strained. He had been nonplussed at sight of them. +For a moment he had let his eyes mirror the dismay of his soul. The +explanation he had given was quite inadequate as a cause. + +Twenty-four hours later Kirby had discovered the dead body of the +Japanese valet Horikawa. The man had been dead perhaps a day. More +hours than one had been spent by Kirby pondering on the possible +connection of his cousin's momentary breakdown and the servant's death. +_Had James come fresh from the murder of Horikawa_? + +It was possible that the Oriental might have held evidence against him +and threatened to divulge it. James, with the fear of death in his +heart, might have gone each day into the apartment where the man was +lurking, taking to him food and newspapers. They might have quarreled. +The strained tendons of Cunningham's arm could be accounted for a good +deal more readily on the hypothesis of a bit of expert jiu-jitsu than +on that of a fall downstairs. There were pieces in the puzzle Kirby +could not fit into place. One of them was to find a sufficient cause +for driving Horikawa to conceal himself when there was no evidence +against him of the crime. + +The time element was tremendously important in the solution of the +mystery of Cunningham's death. Kirby had studied this a hundred times. +On the back of an envelope he jotted down once more such memoranda as +he knew or could safely guess at. Some of these he had to change +slightly as to time to make them dovetail into each other. + + + 8.45. Uncle J. leaves City Club. + 8.55. Uncle J. reaches rooms. + 8.55- 9.10. Gets slippers, etc. Smokes. + 8.55- 9.20. Olson watching from W. fire escape. + 9.10- 9.30. Hulls in Apt. + 9.30- 9.40. _X_. + 9.37- 9.42. Approximately time Olson heard shot. + 9.20- 9.42. Olson busy on roof, with rope, etc. Then at + window till 9.53. + 9.40- 9.53. James in Apt. + 9.44- 9.50. Jack and Phyllis in Apt. + 9.55-10.05. Wild Rose in rooms. + 10.00. I reach rooms. + 10.20. Meet Ellis. + 10.25. Call police. + + +That was the time schedule as well as he had been able to work it out. +It was incomplete. For instance, he had not been able to account for +Horikawa in it at all unless he represented _X_ in that ten minutes of +time unaccounted for. It was inaccurate. Olson was entirely vague as +to time, but he could be checked up pretty well by the others. Hull +was not quite sure of his clock, and Rose could only say that she had +reached the Paradox "quite a little after a quarter to ten." +Fortunately his own arrival checked up hers pretty closely, since she +could not have been in the room much more than five minutes before him. +Probably she had been even less than that. James could not have left +the apartment more than a minute or so before Rose arrived. It was +quite possible that her coming had frightened him out. + +So far as the dovetailing of time went, there was only the ten minutes +or less between the leaving of the Hulls and the appearance of James +left unexplained. If some one other than those mentioned on his +penciled memoranda had killed Cunningham, it must have been between +half-past nine and twenty minutes to ten. The _X_ he had written in +there was the only possible unknown quantity. By the use of hard work +and common sense he had eliminated the rest of the time so far as +outsiders were concerned. + +Kirby put the envelope in his pocket and went out to get some luncheon. + +"I'll call it a mornin'," he told himself with a smile. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXIX + +KIRBY INVITES HIMSELF TO A RIDE + +The Twin Buttes man had said he would call it a morning, but he carried +with him to the restaurant the problem that had become the pivot of all +his waking thoughts. He had an appointment to meet a man for lunch, +and he found his guest waiting for him inside the door. + +The restaurant was an inconspicuous one on a side street. Kirby had +chosen it for that reason. The man who stepped into the booth with him +and sat down on the opposite seat was Hudson, the clerk whom James had +accused of losing the sheets of paper with the Japanese writing. + +"I've got it at last," he said as soon as he was alone. "Thought he +never would go out and leave the key to the private drawer inside the +safe. But he left the key in the lock--for just five minutes--while +Miss Harriman came to see him about something this morning. He walked +out with her to the elevator. I ducked into his office. There was the +key in the drawer, and in the drawer, right at the bottom under some +papers, I found what I wanted." + +He handed to Kirby the sheets of paper found in the living-room of the +apartment where Horikawa had been found dead. + +The cattleman looked them over and put them in his pocket. "Thought he +wouldn't destroy them. He daren't. There might come a time when the +translation of this writing would save his life. He couldn't tell what +the Jap had written, but there might be a twist to it favorable to him. +At the same time he daren't give it out and let any one translate it. +So he'd keep it handy where nobody could get at it but himself." + +"I reckon that just about evens the score between me and Mr. James +Cunningham," the clerk said vindictively. "He bawled me out before a +whole roomful of people when he knew all the time I hadn't lost the +papers. I stood it, because right then I had to. But I've dug up a +better job and start in on it Monday. He's been claiming he was so +anxious to get these sheets back to you. Well, I hope he's satisfied +now." + +"He had no right to keep 'em. They weren't his. I'll have 'em +translated, then turn the sheets over to the police if they have any +bearing on the case. Of course they may be just a private letter or +something of that sort." + +The clerk went on to defend himself for what he had done. Cunningham +had treated him outrageously. Besides, they weren't his papers. He +had no business to hold back evidence in a murder case because it did +not suit him to have it made public. Didn't Mr. Lane think he had done +right in taking the papers from the safe when he had a chance? + +Mr. Lane rather dodged the ethics of the case of Hudson. He had, of +course, instigated the theft of the papers. He was entitled to them. +James had appropriated them by a trick. Besides, it was a matter of +public and private justice that the whole Cunningham mystery be cleared +up as soon as possible. But he was not prepared to pass on Hudson's +right to be the instrument in the case. The man was, of course, a +confidential employee of the oil broker. There was one thing to be +said in his favor. Kirby had not offered him anything for what he had +done nor did he want anything in payment. It was wholly a gratuitous +service. + +The cattleman had made inquiries. He knew of a Japanese interpreter +used in the courts. Foster had recommended him as entirely reliable. +To this man Kirby went. He explained what he wanted. While the +Japanese clerk read in English the writing to him and afterward wrote +out on a typewriter the translation of it, Kirby sat opposite him at +the table to make sure that there was no juggling with the original +document. + +The affair was moving to its climax. Within a few hours now Kirby +expected to see the murderer of his uncle put under arrest. It was +time to take the Chief of Police into his confidence. He walked down +Sixteenth toward the City Hall. + +At Curtis Street the traffic officer was semaphoring with energetic +gesture the east and west bound vehicles to be on their way. Kirby +jaywalked across the street diagonally and passed in front of an +electric headed south. He caught one glimpse of the driver and stood +smiling at the door with his hat off. + +"I want to see you just a minute, Miss Harriman. May I come in?" + +Her long, dark eyes flashed at him. The first swift impulse was to +refuse. But she knew he was dangerous. He knew much that it was vital +to her social standing must not be published. She sparred for time. + +"What do you want?" + +He took this as an invitation and whipped open the door. + +"Better get out of the traffic," he told her. "Where we can talk +without being disturbed." + +She turned up Fifteenth. "If you have anything to say," she suggested, +and swept her long-lashed eyes round at him with the manner of delicate +disdain she held at command. + +"I've been wonderin' about somethin'," he said. "When James telephoned +my uncle, on the evenin' he was killed, that you an' he were on the way +to his rooms, he said you were together; but James reached there alone, +you an' Jack arrivin' a few minutes later. Did James propose that he +go first?" + +The young woman did not answer. But there was no longer disdain in her +fear-filled eyes. She swung the car, as though by a sudden impulse, to +the left and drove to the building where the older James Cunningham had +had his offices. + +"If you want to ask me questions you'd better ask them before Jack," +she said as she stepped out. + +"Suits me exactly," he agreed. + +Her lithe, long body moved beside him gracefully, its every motion +perfectly synchronized. In her close-fitting, stylish gown she was +extremely handsome. There was a kind of proud defiance in the set of +her oval jaw, as though even in the trouble that involved her she was a +creature set apart from others. + +"Mr. Lane has a question he wants to ask you, Jack," she said when they +were in the inner office. + +Kirby smiled, and in his smile there were friendliness and admiration. +"First off, I have to apologize for some things I said two days ago. +I'll eat humble pie. I accused you of somethin'. You're not the man, +I've found out." + +"Yes?" Jack, standing behind his desk in the slim grace of +well-dressed youth, watched him warily. + +"We've found out at last who the man is." + +"Indeed!" Jack knew that Esther McLean had been found by her friends +and taken away. No doubt she had told them her story. Did the +cattleman mean to expose James before the woman he knew to be his wife? +That wouldn't be quite what he would expect of Lane. + +"Incidentally, I have some news for you. One of your uncle's +stenographers, a Miss McLean, has just been married to a friend of +mine, the champion rough rider. Perhaps you may have heard of him. +His name is Cole Sanborn." + +Jack did not show the great relief he felt. "Glad to hear it," he said +simply. + +"Did we come here to discuss stenographers?" asked the young woman with +a little curl of the lip. "You mentioned a question, Mr. Lane. Hadn't +we better get that out of the way?" + +Kirby put to Jack the same query he had addressed to her. + +"What's the drift of this? What do you want to prove?" Jack asked +curtly. + +The eyes in the brown face plunged deep into those of Jack Cunningham. +"Not a thing. I've finished my case, except for a detail or two. +Within two hours the murderer of Uncle James will be arrested. I'm +offerin' you a chance to come through with what you know before it's +too late. You can kick in if you want to. You can stay out if you +don't. But don't say afterward I didn't give you a chance." + +"What kind of a chance are you giving me? Let's get clear on that. +Are you proposing I turn state's evidence on James? Is that what +you're driving at?" + +"Did James kill Uncle James?" + +"Of course he didn't, but you may have it in that warped mind of yours +that he did." + +"What I think doesn't matter. All that will count is the truth. It's +bound to come out. There are witnesses that saw you come to the +Paradox, a witness that actually saw you in uncle's rooms. If you +don't believe me, I'll tell you somethin'. When you an' Miss Harriman +came into the room where my uncle had been killed, James was sittin' at +the desk lookin' over papers. A gun was lyin' close by his hand. Miss +Harriman nearly fainted an' you steadied her." + +Miss Harriman, or rather Mrs. James Cunningham, nearly fainted again. +She caught at the back of a chair and stood rigid, looking at Kirby +with dilated, horror-filled eyes. + +"He knows everything--everything. I think he must be the devil," she +murmured from bloodless lips. + +Jack, too, was shaken, badly. "For God's sake, man, what do you know?" +he asked hoarsely. + +"I know so much that you can't safely keep quiet any longer. The whole +matter is goin' to the police. It's goin' to them this afternoon. +What are you goin' to do? If you refuse to talk, then it will be taken +to mean guilt." + +"Why should it go to the police? Be reasonable, man. James didn't do +it, but he's in an awful hole. No jury on earth would refuse to +convict him with the evidence you've piled up. Can't you see that?" + +Kirby smiled. This time his smile was grim. "I ought to know that +better than you. I'll give you two hours to decide. Meet you at +James's office then. There are some things we want to talk over alone, +but I think Miss Harriman had better be there ready to join us when we +send for her." + +"Going through with this, are you?" + +"I'm goin' through in spite of hell and high water." + +Jack strode up and down the room in a stress of emotion. "You're going +to ruin three lives because you're so pigheaded or because you want +your name in the papers as a great detective. Is there anything in the +world we can do to head you off?" + +"Nothin'. And if lives are ruined it's not my fault. I'll promise +this: The man or woman I point to as the one who killed Uncle James +will be the one that did it. If James is innocent, as you claim he is, +he won't have it saddled on him. Shall I tell you the thing that's got +you worried? Down in the bottom of your heart you're not dead sure he +didn't do it--either one of you." + +The young woman took a step toward Kirby, hands outstretched in dumb +pleading. She gave him her soft, appealing eyes, a light of proud +humility in them. + +"Don't do it!" she begged. "He's your own cousin--and my husband. I +love him. Perhaps there's some woman that loves you. If there is, +remember her and be merciful." + +His eyes softened. It was the first time he had seen her taken out of +her selfishness. She was one of those modern young women who take, but +do not give. At least that had been his impression of her. She had +specialized, he judged, in graceful and lovely self-indulgence. A part +of her code had been to get the best possible bargain for her charm and +beauty, and as a result of her philosophy of life time had already +begun to enamel on her a slight hardness of finish. Yet she had +married James instead of his uncle. She had risked the loss of a large +fortune to follow her heart. Perhaps, if children came, she might +still escape into the thoughts and actions that give life its true +value. + +A faint, sphinxlike smile touched his face. "No use worryin'. That +doesn't help any. I'll go as easy as I can. We'll meet in two hours +at James's office." + +He turned and left the room. + + + + +CHAPTER XL + +THE MILLS OF THE GODS + +Kirby Lane did not waste the two hours that lay before the appointment +he had made for a meeting at the office of his cousin James. He had a +talk with the Hulls and another with the Chief of Police. He saw Olson +and Rose McLean. He even found the time to forge two initials at the +foot of a typewritten note on the stationery of James Cunningham, and +to send the note to its destination by a messenger. + +Rose met him by appointment at the entrance to the Equitable Building +and they rode up in the elevator together to the office of his cousin. +Miss Harriman, as she still called herself in public, was there with +Jack and her husband. + +James was ice-cold. He bowed very slightly to Rose. Chairs were +already placed. + +For a moment Kirby was embarrassed. He drew James aside. Cunningham +murmured an exchange of sentences with his wife, then escorted her to +the door. Rose was left with the three cousins. + +"I suppose Jack has told you of the marriage of Esther McLean," Kirby +said as soon as the door had been closed. + +James bowed, still very stiffly. + +Kirby met him, eye to eye. He spoke very quietly and clearly. "I want +to open the meetin' by tellin' you on behalf of this young woman an' +myself that we think you an unmitigated cur. We are debarred from +sayin' so before your wife, but it's a pleasure to tell you so in +private. Is that quite clear?" + +The oil broker flushed darkly. He made no answer. "You not only took +advantage of a young woman's tender heart. You were willin' our dead +uncle should bear the blame for it. Have you any other word than the +one I have used to suggest as a more fittin' one?" the Wyoming man +asked bitingly. + +Jack answered for his brother. "Suppose we pass that count of the +indictment, unless you have a practical measure to suggest in +connection with it. We plead guilty." + +There wag a little gleam of mirth in Kirby's eyes. "You an' I have +discussed the matter already, Jack. I regret I expressed my opinion so +vigorously then. We have nothin' practical to suggest, if you are +referrin' to any form of compensation. Esther is happily married, +thank God. All we want is to make it perfectly plain what we think of +Mr. James Cunningham." + +James acknowledged this and answered. "That is quite clear. I may say +that I entirely concur in your estimate of my conduct. I might make +explanations, but I can make none that justify me to myself." + +"In that case we may consider the subject closed, unless Miss McLean +has something to say." + +Kirby turned to Rose. She looked at James Cunningham, and he might +have been the dirt under her feet. "I have nothing whatever to say, +Kirby. You express my sentiments exactly." + +"Very well. Then we might open the door and invite in Miss Harriman. +There are others who should be along soon that have a claim also to be +present." + +"What others?" asked Jack Cunningham. + +"The other suspects in the case. I prefer to have them all here." + +"Any one else?" + +"The Chief of Police." + +James looked at him hard. "This is not a private conference, then?" + +"That's a matter of definitions. I have invited only those who have a +claim to be present," Kirby answered. + +"To my office, I think." + +"If you prefer the Chief's office we'll adjourn an' go there." + +The broker shrugged. "Oh, very well." + +Kirby stepped to the door connecting with an outer office and threw it +open. Mr. and Mrs. Hull, Olson, and the Chief of Police followed +Phyllis Harriman into the room. More chairs were brought in. + +The Chief sat nearest the door, one leg thrown lazily across the other. +He had a fat brown cigar in his hand. Sometimes he chewed on the end +of it, but he was not smoking. He was an Irishman, and as it happened +open-minded. He liked this brown-faced young fellow from +Wyoming--never had believed him guilty from the first. Moreover, he +was willing his detective bureau should get a jolt from an outsider. +It might spur them up in future. + +"Chief, is there anything you want to say?" Kirby asked. + +"Not a wor-rd. I'm sittin' in a parquet seat. It's your show, son." + +Kirby's disarming smile won the Chief's heart. "I want to say now that +I've talked with the Chief several times. He's given me a lot of good +tips an' I've worked under his direction." + +The head of the police force grinned. The tips he had given Lane had +been of no value, but he was quite willing to take any public credit +there might be. He sat back and listened now while Kirby told his +story. + +"Outside of the Chief every one here is connected closely with this +case an' is involved in it. It happens that every man an' woman of us +were in my uncle's apartments either at the time of his death or just +before or after." Kirby raised a hand to meet Olson's protest. "Oh, I +know. You weren't in the rooms, but you were on the fire escape +outside. From the angle of the police you may have been in. All you +had to do was to pass through an open window." + +There was a moment's silence, while Kirby hesitated in what order to +tell his facts. Hull mopped the back of his overflowing neck. Phyllis +Cunningham moistened her dry lips. A chord in her throat ached tensely. + +"Suspicion fell first on me an' on Hull," Kirby went on. "You've seen +it all thrashed out in the papers. I had been unfriendly to my uncle +for years, an' I was seen goin' to his rooms an' leavin' them that +evening. My own suspicion was directed to Hull, especially when he an' +Mrs. Hull at the coroner's inquest changed the time so as to get me +into my uncle's apartment half an hour earlier than I had been there. +I'd caught them in a panic of terror when I knocked on their door. +They'd lied to get me into trouble. Hull had quarreled with Uncle +James an' had threatened to go after him with a gun in _two days_ after +that time--and it was _just forty-eight hours later he was killed_. It +looked a lot like Hull to me. + +"I had one big advantage, Chief, a lot of inside facts not open to +you," the cattleman explained. "I knew, for instance, that Miss McLean +here had been in the rooms just before me. She was the young woman my +uncle had the appointment to meet there before ten o'clock. You will +remember Mr. Blanton's testimony. Miss McLean an' I compared notes, so +we were able to shave down the time during which the murder must have +taken place. We worked together. She gave me other important data. +Perhaps she had better tell in her own words about the clue she found +that we followed." + +Rose turned to the Chief. Her young face flew a charming flag of +color. Her hair, in crisp tendrils beneath the edge of the small hat +she wore, was the ripe gold of wheat-tips in the shock. The tender +blue of violets was in her eyes. + +"I told you about how I found Mr. Cunningham tied to his chair, Chief. +I forgot to say that in the living-room there was a faint odor of +perfume. On my way upstairs I passed in the dark a man and a woman. I +had got a whiff of the same perfume then. It was violet. So I knew +they had been in the apartment just before me. Mr. Lane discovered +later that Miss Harriman used that scent." + +"Which opened up a new field of speculation," Kirby went on. "We began +to run down facts an' learned that my cousin James had secretly married +Miss Harriman at Golden a month before. My uncle had just learned the +news. He had a new will made by his lawyer, one that cut James off +without a cent an' left his property to Jack Cunningham." + +"That will was never signed," Jack broke in quickly. + +Kirby looked at Jack and smiled cynically. "No, it was never signed. +Your brother discovered that when he looked the will over at Uncle's +desk a few minutes after his death." + +James did not wink an eye in distress. The hand of the woman sitting +beside him went out instantly to his in a warm, swift pressure. She +was white to the lips, but her thought was for the man she loved and +not for herself. Kirby scored another mark to her credit. + +"Cumulative evidence pointed to James Cunningham," continued Kirby. +"He tried to destroy the proof of his marriage to Miss Harriman. He +later pretended to lose an important paper that might have cleared up +the case. He tried to get me to drop the matter an' go back to +Wyoming. The coil wound closer round him. + +"About this time another factor attracted my attention. I had the good +luck to unearth at Dry Valley the man who had written threatenin' +letters to my uncle an' to discover that he was stayin' next door to +the Paradox the very night of the murder. More, my friend Sanborn an' +I guessed he had actually been on the fire escape of the Wyndham an' +seen somethin' of importance through the window. Later I forced a +statement from Olson. He told all he had seen that night." + +Kirby turned to the rancher from Dry Valley and had him tell his story. +When he had finished, the cattleman made comment. + +"On the face of it Olson's story leaves in doubt the question of who +actually killed my uncle. If he was tellin' the whole truth, his +evidence points either to the Hulls or my cousin James. But it was +quite possible he had seen my uncle tied up an' helpless, an' had +himself stepped through the window an' shot him. Am I right, Chief?" + +The Chief nodded grimly. "Right, son." + +"You told me you didn't think I did it," Olson burst out bitterly. + +"An' I tell you so again," Kirby answered, smiling. "I was mentionin' +possibilities. On your evidence it lies between my cousin James an' +the Hulls. It was the Hulls that had tied him up after Cass Hull +knocked him senseless. It was Hull who had given him two days more to +live. And that's not all. Not an hour an' a half ago I had a talk +with Mrs. Hull. She admitted, under pressure, _that she returned to my +uncle's apartment again to release him from the chair_. She was alone +with him, an' he was wholly in her power. She is a woman with a +passionate sense of injury. What happened then nobody else saw." + +Mrs. Hull opened her yellow, wrinkled lips to speak, but Kirby checked +her. "Not yet, Mrs. Hull. I'll return to the subject. If you wish +you can defend yourself then." + +He stopped a second time to find the logical way of proceeding with his +story. The silence in the room was tense. The proverbial pin could +have been heard. Only one person in the room except Kirby knew where +the lightning was going to strike. That person sat by the door chewing +the end of a cigar impassively. A woman gave a strangled little sob of +pent emotion. + +"I've been leaving Horikawa out of the story," the cattleman went on. +"I've got to bring him in now. He's the hinge on which it all swings. +_The man or woman that killed my uncle killed Horikawa too_." + +James Cunningham, sitting opposite Kirby with his cold eyes steadily +fixed on him, for the first time gave visible sign of his anxiety. It +came in the form of a little gulping sound in his throat. + +"Cole Sanborn and I found Horikawa in the room where he had been +killed. The doctors thought he must have been dead about a day. Just +a day before this time Miss McLean an' I met James Cunningham comin' +out of the Paragon. He was white an' shaking. He was sufferin' from +nausea, an' his arm was badly strained. He explained it by sayin' he +had fallen downstairs. Later, I wondered about that fall. I'm still +wonderin'. Had he just come out of the apartment where Horikawa was +hidin'? Had the tendons of that arm been strained by a jiu-jitsu +twist? _And had he left Horikawa behind him dead on the bed?_" + +James, white to the lips, looked steadily at his cousin. "A very +ingenious theory. I've always complimented you on your imagination," +he said, a little hoarsely, as though from a parched throat. + +"You do not desire to make any explanation?" Kirby asked. + +"Thanks, no. I'm not on trial for my life here, am I?" answered the +oil broker quietly, with obvious irony. + +His wife was sobbing softly. The man's arm went round her and +tightened in wordless comfort. + +From his pocket Kirby drew the envelope upon which he had a few hours +earlier penciled the time schedule relating to his uncle's death. + +"One of the points that struck me earliest about this mystery was that +the man who solved it would have to work out pretty closely the time +element. Inside of an hour ten people beside Uncle James were in his +rooms. They must 'a' trod on each other's heels right fast, I figured. +So I checked up the time as carefully as I could. Here's the schedule +I made out. Mebbe you'd like to see it." He handed the envelope to +James. + +Jack rose and looked over his brother's shoulder. His quick eye ran +down the list. "I get the rest of it," he said. "But what does _X_ +mean?" + +"_X_ is the ten minutes of Uncle's time I can't account for. Some of +us were with him practically every other minute. _X_ is the whole +unknown quantity. It is the time in which he was prob'ly actually +killed. It is the man who _may_, by some thousandth chance, have +stepped into the room an' killed him while none of us were present," +explained Kirby. + +"If there is such an unknown man you can cut the time down to five +minutes instead of ten, providing your schedule is correct," James cut +in. "For according to it I was there part of the time and Mrs. Hull +part of the rest of it." + +"Yes," agreed his cousin. + +"But you may have decided that Mrs. Hull is _X_ or that I am," jeered +James. "If so, of course that ends it. No need for a judge or jury." + +Kirby turned to the man by the door. "Chief, one of the queer things +about this mystery is that all the witnesses had somethin' to conceal. +Go right through the list, an' it's true of every one of us. I'm +talkin' about the important witnesses, of course. Well, Cole an' I +found a paper in the living-room of the apartment where Horikawa was +killed. It was in Japanese. I ought to have turned it over to you, +but I didn't. I was kinda playin' a lone hand. At that time I didn't +suspect my cousin James at all. We were workin' together on this +thing. At least I thought so. I found out better later. I took the +paper to him to get it translated, thinkin' maybe Horikawa might have +written some kind of a confession. James lost that paper. Anyhow, he +claimed he did. My theory is that Horikawa had some evidence against +him. He was afraid of what that paper would tell." + +"Unfortunately for your theory it was a clerk of mine who lost the +paper. I had nothing to do with it," James retorted coldly. "No doubt +the paper has been destroyed, but not by me. Quite by accident, I +judge." + +His cousin let off a bomb beneath the broker's feet. "You'll be glad +to know that the paper wasn't destroyed," he said. "I have it, with a +translation, in my pocket at the present moment." + +James clutched the arms of his chair. His knuckles grew white with the +strain. "Where--where did you find it?" he managed to say. + +"In the most private drawer of your safe, where you hid it," Kirby +replied quietly. + +Cunningham visibly fought for his composure. He did not speak until he +had perfect self-control. Then it was with a sneer. + +"And this paper which you allege you found in my safe--after a burglary +which, no doubt, you know is very much against the law--does it convict +me of the murder of my uncle?" + +The tension in the room was nerve-shattering. Men and women suspended +breathing while they waited for an answer. + +"On the contrary, it acquits you of any guilt whatever in the matter." + +Phyllis Cunningham gave a broken little sob and collapsed into her +husband's arms. Jack rose, his face working, and caught his brother by +the shoulder. These two had suffered greatly, not only because of +their fear for him, but because of the fear of his guilt that had +poisoned their peace. + +James, too, was moved, as much by their love for him as by the sudden +relief that had lifted from his heart. But his pride held him +outwardly cold. + +"Since you've decided I didn't do it, Mr. Lane, perhaps you'll tell us +then who did," he suggested presently. + +There came a knock at the door. + +A whimsical smile twitched at the corners of Kirby's mouth. He did not +often have a chance for dramatics like this. + +"Why, yes, that seems fair enough," he answered. + +"He's knockin' at the door now. Enter _X_." + + + + +CHAPTER XLI + +ENTER X + +Shibo stood on the threshold and sent a swift glance around the room. +He had expected to meet James alone. That first slant look of the long +eyes forewarned him that Nemesis was at hand. But he faced without a +flicker of the lids the destiny he had prepared for himself. + +"You write me note come see you now," he said to Cunningham. + +James showed surprise. "No, I think not." + +"You no want me?" + +The Chief's hand fell on the shoulder of the janitor. "_I_ want you, +Shibo." + +"You write me note come here now?" + +"No, I reckon Mr. Lane wrote that." + +"I plenty busy. What you want me for?" + +"For the murders of James Cunningham and Horikawa." Before the words +were out of his mouth the Chief had his prisoner handcuffed. + +Shibo turned to Kirby. "You tellum police I killum Mr. Cunnin'lam and +Horikawa?" + +"Yes." + +"I plenty sorry I no kill you." + +"You did your best, Shibo. Took three shots at ten feet. Rotten +shooting." + +"Do you mean that he actually tried to kill you?" James asked in +surprise. + +"In the Denmark Building, the other night, at eleven o'clock. And I'll +say he made a bad mistake when he tried an' didn't get away with it. +For I knew that the man who was aimin' to gun me was the same one that +had killed Uncle James. He'd got to worryin' for fear I was followin' +too hot a trail." + +"Did you recognize him?" Jack said. + +"Not right then. I was too busy duckin' for cover. Safety first was +my motto right then. No, when I first had time to figure on who could +be the gentleman that was so eager to make me among those absent, I +rather laid it to Cousin James, with Mr. Cass Hull second on my list of +suspects. The fellow had a searchlight an' he flashed it on me. I +could see above it a bandanna handkerchief over the face. I'd seen a +bandanna like it in Hull's hands. But I had to eliminate Hull. The +gunman on the stairs had small, neat feet, no larger than a woman's. +Hull's feet are--well, sizable." + +They were. Huge was not too much to call them. + +As a dozen eyes focused on his boots the fat man drew them back of the +rungs of his chair. This attention to personal details of his +conformation was embarrassing. + +"Those small feet stuck in my mind," Kirby went on. "Couldn't seem to +get rid of the idea. They put James out of consideration, unless, of +course, he had hired a killer, an' that didn't look reasonable to me. +I'll tell the truth. I thought of Mrs. Hull dressed as a man--an' then +I thought of Shibo." + +"Had you suspected him before?" This from Olson. + +"Not of the murders. I had learned that he had seen the Hulls come +from my uncle's rooms an' had kept quiet. Hull admitted that he had +been forced to bribe him. I tackled Shibo with it an' threatened to +tell the police. Evidently he became frightened an' tried to murder +me. I got a note makin' an appointment at the Denmark Building at +eleven in the night. The writer promised to tell me who killed my +uncle. I took a chance an' went." The cattleman turned to Mrs. Hull. +"Will you explain about the note, please?" + +The gaunt, tight-lipped woman rose, as though she had been called on at +school to recite. "I wrote the note," she said. "Shibo made me. I +didn't know he meant to kill Mr. Lane. He said he'd tell everything if +I didn't." + +She sat down. She had finished her little piece. + +"So I began to focus on Shibo. He might be playin' a lone hand, or he +might be a tool of my cousin James. A detective hired by me saw him +leave James's office. That didn't absolutely settle the point. He +might have seen somethin' an' be blackmailin' him too. That was the +way of it, wasn't it?" He turned point-blank to Cunningham. + +"Yes," the broker said. "He had us right--not only me, but Jack and +Phyllis, too. I couldn't let him drag her into it. The day you saw me +with the strained tendon I had been with him and Horikawa in the +apartment next to the one Uncle James rented. We quarreled. I got +furious and caught Shibo by the throat to shake the little scoundrel. +He gave my arm some kind of a jiu-jitsu twist. He was at me every day. +He never let up. He meant to bleed me heavily. We couldn't come to +terms. I hated to yield to him." + +"And did you?" + +"I promised him an answer soon." + +"No doubt he came to-day thinkin' he was goin' to get it." Kirby went +back to the previous question. "Next time I saw Shibo I took a look at +his feet. He was wearin' a pair o' shoes that looked to me mighty like +those worn by the man that ambushed me. They didn't have any cap +pieces across the toes. I'd noticed that even while he was shootin' at +me. It struck me that it would be a good idea to look over his +quarters in the basement. Shibo has one human weakness. He's a +devotee of the moving pictures. Nearly every night he takes in a show +on Curtis Street. The Chief lent me a man, an' last night we went +through his room at the Paradox. We found there a flashlight, a +bandanna handkerchief with holes cut in it for the eyes, an' in the +mattress two thousand dollars in big bills. We left them where we +found them, for we didn't want to alarm Shibo." + +The janitor looked at him without emotion. "You plenty devil man," he +said. + +"We hadn't proved yet that Shibo was goin' it alone," Kirby went on, +paying no attention to the interruption. "Some one might be usin' him +as a tool. Horikawa's confession clears that up." + +Kirby handed to the Chief of Police the sheets of paper found in the +apartment where the valet was killed. Attached to these by a clip was +the translation. The Chief read this last aloud. + +Horikawa, according to the confession, had been in Cunningham's rooms +sponging and pressing a suit of clothes when the promoter came home on +the afternoon of the day of his death. Through a half-open door he had +seen his master open his pocket-book and count a big roll of bills. +The figures on the outside one showed that it was a treasury note for +fifty dollars. The valet had told Shibo later and they had talked it +over, but with no thought in Horikawa's mind of robbery. + +He was helping Shibo fix a window screen at the end of the hall that +evening when they saw the Hulls come out of Cunningham's apartment. +Something furtive in their manner struck the valet's attention. It was +in the line of his duties to drop in and ask whether the promoter's +clothes needed any attention for the next day. He discovered after he +was in the living-room that Shibo was at his heels. They found +Cunningham trussed up to a chair in the smaller room. He was +unconscious, evidently from a blow in the head. + +The first impulse of Horikawa had been to free him and carry him to the +bedroom. But Shibo interfered. He pushed his hand into the pocket of +the smoking-jacket and drew out a pocket-book. It bulged with bills. +In two sentences Shibo sketched a plan of operations. They would steal +the money and lay the blame for it on the Hulls. Cunningham's own +testimony would convict the fat man and his wife. The evidence of the +two Japanese would corroborate his. + +Cunningham's eyelids flickered. There was a bottle of chloroform on +the desk. The promoter had recently suffered pleurisy pains and had +been advised by his doctor to hold a little of the drug against the +place where they caught him most sharply. Shibo snatched up the +bottle, drenched a handkerchief with some of its contents, and dropped +the handkerchief over the wounded man's face. + +A drawer was open within reach of Cunningham's hand. In it lay an +automatic pistol The two men were about to hurry away. Shibo turned at +the door. To his dismay he saw that the handkerchief had slipped from +Cunningham's face and the man was looking at him. He had recovered +consciousness. + +Cunningham's eyes condemned him to death. In their steely depths there +was a gleam of triumph. He was about to call for help. Shibo knew +what that meant. He and Horikawa were in a strange land. They would +be sent to prison, an example made of them because they were +foreigners. Automatically, without an instant of delay, he acted to +protect himself. + +Two strides took him back to Cunningham. He reached across his body +for the automatic and sent a bullet into the brain of the man bound to +the chair. + +Horikawa, to judge by his confession, was thunderstruck. He was an +amiable little fellow who never had stepped outside the law. Now he +was caught in the horrible meshes of a murder. He went to pieces and +began to sob. Shibo stopped him sharply. + +Then they heard some one coming. It was too late to get away by the +door. They slipped through the window to the fire escape and from it +to the window of the adjoining apartment. Horikawa, still sick with +fear, stumbled against the rail as he clambered over it and cut his +face badly. + +Shibo volunteered to go downstairs and get him some sticking plaster. +On the way down Shibo had met the younger James Cunningham as he came +out of the elevator. Returning with first-aid supplies a few minutes +later, he saw Jack and Phyllis. + +It was easy to read between the lines that Shibo's will had dominated +Horikawa. He had been afraid that his companion's wounded face would +lead to his arrest. If so, he knew it would be followed by a +confession. He forced Horikawa to hide in the vacant apartment till +the wound should heal. Meanwhile he fed him and brought him newspapers. + +There were battles of will between the two. Horikawa was terribly +frightened when he read that his flight had brought suspicion on him. +He wanted to give himself up at once to the police. They quarreled. +Shibo always gained the temporary advantage, but he saw that under a +grilling third degree his countryman would break down. He killed +Horikawa because he knew he could not trust him. + +This last fact was not, of course, in Horikawa's confession. But the +dread of it was there. The valet had come to fear Shibo. He was +convinced in his shrinking heart that the man meant to get rid of him. +It was under some impulse of self-protection that he had written the +statement. + +Shibo heard the confession read without the twitching of a facial +muscle. He shrugged his shoulders, accepting the inevitable with the +fatalism of his race. + +"He weak. He no good. He got yellow streak. I bossum," was his +comment. + +"Did you kill him?" asked the Chief. + +"I killum both--Cunnin'lam and Horikawa. You kill me now maybe yes." + +Officers led him away. + +Phyllis Cunningham came up to Kirby and offered him her hand. "You're +hard on James. I don't know why you're so hard. But you've cleared us +all. I say thanks awf'ly for that. I've been horribly frightened. +That's the truth. It seemed as though there wasn't any way out for us. +Come and see us and let's all make up, Cousin Kirby." + +Kirby did not say he would. But he gave her his strong grip and +friendly smile. Just then his face did not look hard. He could not +tell her why he had held his cousin on the grill so long, that it had +been in punishment for what he had done to a defenseless friend of his +in the name of love. What he did say suited her perhaps as well. + +"I like you better right now than I ever did before, Cousin Phyllis. +You're a good little sport an' you'll do to ride the river with." + +Jack could not quite let matters stand as they did. He called on Kirby +that evening at his hotel. + +"It's about James I want to see you," he said, then stuck for lack of +words with which to clothe his idea. He prodded at the rug with the +point of his cane. + +"Yes, about James," Kirby presently reminded him, smiling. + +"He's not so bad as you think he is," Jack blurted out. + +"He's as selfish as the devil, isn't he?" + +"Well, he is, and he isn't. He's got a generous streak in him. You +may not believe it, but he went on your bond because he liked you." + +"Come, Jack, you're tryin' to seduce my judgment by the personal +appeal," Kirby answered, laughing. + +"I know I am. What I want to say is this. I believe he would have +married Esther McLean if it hadn't been for one thing. He fell +desperately in love with Phyllis afterward. The odd thing is that she +loves him, too. They didn't dare to be above-board about it on account +of Uncle James. They treated him shabbily, of course. I don't deny +that." + +"You can hardly deny that," Kirby agreed. + +"But, damn it, one swallow doesn't make a summer. You've seen the +worst side of him all the way through." + +"I dare say I have." Kirby let his hand fall on the well-tailored +shoulder of his cousin. "But I haven't seen the worst side of his +brother Jack. He's a good scout. Come up to Wyoming this fall an' +we'll go huntin' up in the Jackson Hole country. What say?" + +"Nothing I'd like better," answered Jack promptly. + +"We'll arrange a date later. Just now I've got to beat it. Goin' +drivin' with a lady." + +Jack scored for once. "_She's_ a good scout, too." + +"If she isn't, I'll say there never was one," his cousin assented. + + + + +CHAPTER XLII + +THE NEW WORLD + +Kirby took his lady love driving in a rented flivver. It was a +Colorado night, with a young moon looking down through the cool, rare +atmosphere found only in the Rockies. He drove her through the city to +Berkeley and up the hill to Inspiration Point. + +They talked only in intermittent snatches. Rose had the gift of +comradeship. Her tongue never rattled. With Kirby she did not need to +make talk. They had always understood each other without words. + +But to-night their silences were filled with new and awkward +significances. She guessed that an emotional crisis was at hand. With +all her heart she welcomed and shrank from it. For she knew that after +to-night life could never be the same to her. It might be fuller, +deeper, happier, but it could not hold for her the freedom she had +guarded and cherished. + +At the summit he killed the engine. They looked across the valley to +the hills dimmed by night's velvet dusk. + +"We're through with all that back there," he said, and she knew he +meant the tangled trails of the past weeks into which their fate had +led them. "We don't have to keep our minds full of suspicions an' try +to find out things in mean, secret ways. There, in front of us, is +God's world, waitin' for you an' me, Rose." + +Though she had expected it, she could not escape a sense of suddenly +stilled pulses followed by a clamor of beating blood. She quivered, +vibrating, trembling. She was listening to the call of mate to mate +sounding clear above all the voices of the world. + +A flash of soft eyes darted at him. He was to be her man, and the +maiden heart thrilled at the thought. She loved all of him she +knew--his fine, clean thoughts, his brave and virile life, the splendid +body that was the expression of his personality. There was a line of +golden down on his cheek just above where he had shaved. Her warm eyes +dared to linger fondly there, for he was still gazing at the mountains. + +His eyes came home to her, and as he looked he knew he longed for her +in every fiber of his being. + +He asked no formal question. She answered none. Under the steady +regard of his eyes she made a small, rustling movement toward him. Her +young and lissom body was in his arms, a warm and palpitating thing of +life and joy. He held her close. Her eyelashes swept his cheek and +sent a strange, delightful tingle through his blood. + +Kirby held her head back and looked into her eyes again. Under the +starlight their lips slowly met. + +The road lay clear before them after many tangled trails. + + + +***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK TANGLED TRAILS*** + + +******* This file should be named 17066-8.txt or 17066-8.zip ******* + + +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: +https://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/1/7/0/6/17066 + + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. Special rules, +set forth in the General Terms of Use part of this license, apply to +copying and distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works to +protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm concept and trademark. 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Thus, we do not necessarily +keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper edition. + +Most people start at our Web site which has the main PG search facility: + + https://www.gutenberg.org + +This Web site includes information about Project Gutenberg-tm, +including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary +Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to +subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks. + diff --git a/17066-8.zip b/17066-8.zip Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..a6c7f94 --- /dev/null +++ b/17066-8.zip diff --git a/17066.txt b/17066.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..2b7a806 --- /dev/null +++ b/17066.txt @@ -0,0 +1,9466 @@ +The Project Gutenberg eBook, Tangled Trails, by William MacLeod Raine + + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + + + + +Title: Tangled Trails + A Western Detective Story + + +Author: William MacLeod Raine + + + +Release Date: November 14, 2005 [eBook #17066] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-646-US (US-ASCII) + + +***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK TANGLED TRAILS*** + + +E-text prepared by Al Haines + + + +TANGLED TRAILS + +A Western Detective Story + +by + +WILLIAM MACLEOD RAINE + +Author of +The Big-Town Round-Up, Gunsight Pass, Etc. + + + + + + + +Grosset & Dunlap +Publishers New York +Made in the United States of America +Copyright, 1921, by William Macleod Raine +All Rights Reserved +Third Impression, March, 1922 + + + + + +CONTENTS + + I. NO ALTRUIST + II. WILD ROSE TAKES THE DUST + III. FOR THE CHAMPIONSHIP OF THE WORLD + IV. NOT ALWAYS TWO TO MAKE A QUARREL + V. COUSINS MEET + VI. LIGHTS OUT + VII. FOUL PLAY + VIII. BY MEANS OF THE FIRE ESCAPE + IX. THE STORY IN THE "NEWS" + X. KIRBY ASKS A DIRECT QUESTION + XI. THE CORONER'S INQUEST + XII. "THAT'S THE MAN" + XIII. "ALWAYS, PHYLLIS" + XIV. A FRIEND IN NEED + XV. A GLOVE AND THE HAND IN IT + XVI. THE LADY WITH THE VIOLET PERFUME + XVII. IN DRY VALLEY + XVIII. "BURNIN' A HOLE IN MY POCKET" + XIX. A DISCOVERY + XX. THE BRASS BED + XXI. JAMES LOSES HIS TEMPER + XXII. "ARE YOU WITH ME OR AGAINST ME?" + XXIII. COUSINS DISAGREE + XXIV. REVEREND NICODEMUS RANKIN FORGETS AND REMEMBERS + XXV. A CONFERENCE OF THREE + XXVI. CUTTING TRAIL + XXVII. THE DETECTIVE GETS TWO SURPRISES + XXVIII. THE FINGER OF SUSPICION POINTS + XXIX. "COME CLEAN, JACK" + XXX. KIRBY MAKES A CALL + XXXI. THE MASK OF THE RED BANDANNA + XXXII. JACK TAKES OFF HIS COAT + XXXIII. OLSON TELLS A STORY + XXXIV. FROM THE FIRE ESCAPE + XXXV. LIKE A THIEF IN THE NIGHT + XXXVI. A RIDE IN A TAXI + XXXVII. ON THE GRILL + XXXVIII. A FULL MORNING + XXXIX. KIRBY INVITES HIMSELF TO A RIDE + XL. THE MILLS OF THE GODS + XLI. ENTER _X_ + XLII. THE NEW WORLD + + + + +TANGLED TRAILS + + +CHAPTER I + +NO ALTRUIST + +Esther McLean brought the afternoon mail in to Cunningham. She put it +on the desk before him and stood waiting, timidly, afraid to voice her +demand for justice, yet too desperately anxious to leave with it +unspoken. + +He leaned back in his swivel chair, his cold eyes challenging her. +"Well," he barked harshly. + +She was a young, soft creature, very pretty in a kittenish fashion, +both sensuous and helpless. It was an easy guess that unless fortune +stood her friend she was a predestined victim to the world's selfish +love of pleasure, and fortune, with a cynical smile, had stood aside +and let her go her way. + +"I . . . I . . ." A wave of color flooded her face. She twisted a rag +of a handkerchief into a hard wadded knot. + +"Spit it out," he ordered curtly. + +"I've got to do something . . . soon. Won't you--won't you--?" There +was a wail of despair in the unfinished sentence. + +James Cunningham was a grim, gray pirate, as malleable as cast iron and +as soft. He was a large, big-boned man, aggressive, dominant, the kind +that takes the world by the throat and shakes success from it. The +contour of his hook-nosed face had something rapacious written on it. + +"No. Not till I get good and ready. I've told you I'd look out for +you if you'd keep still. Don't come whining at me. I won't have it." + +"But--" + +Already he was ripping letters open and glancing over them. Tears +brimmed the brown eyes of the girl. She bit her lower lip, choked back +a sob, and turned hopelessly away. Her misfortune lay at her own door. +She knew that. But-- The woe in her heart was that the man she had +loved was leaving her to face alone a night as bleak as death. + +Cunningham had always led a life of intelligent selfishness. He had +usually got what he wanted because he was strong enough to take it. No +scrupulous nicety of means had ever deterred him. Nor ever would. He +played his own hand with a cynical disregard of the rights of others. +It was this that had made him what he was, a man who bulked large in +the sight of the city and state. Long ago he had made up his mind that +altruism was weakness. + +He went through his mail with a swift, trained eye. One of the letters +he laid aside and glanced at a second time. It brought a grim, hard +smile to his lips. A paragraph read: + + +There's no water in your ditch and our crops are burning up. Your +whole irrigation system in Dry Valley is a fake. You knew it, but we +didn't. You've skinned us out of all we had, you damned bloodsucker. +If you ever come up here we'll dry-gulch you, sure. + + +The letter was signed, "One You Have Robbed." Attached to it was a +clipping from a small-town paper telling of a meeting of farmers to ask +the United States District Attorney for an investigation of the Dry +Valley irrigation project promoted by James Cunningham. + +The promoter smiled. He was not afraid of the Government. He had kept +strictly within the law. It was not his fault there was not enough +rainfall in the watershed to irrigate the valley. But the threat to +dry-gulch him was another matter. He had no fancy for being shot in +the back. Some crazy fool of a settler might do just that. He decided +to let an agent attend to his Dry Valley affairs hereafter. He +dictated some letters, closed his desk, and went down the street toward +the City Club. At a florist's he stopped and ordered a box of American +Beauties to be sent to Miss Phyllis Harriman. With these he enclosed +his card, a line of greeting scrawled on it. + +A poker game was on at the club and Cunningham sat in. He interrupted +it to dine, holding his seat by leaving a pile of chips at the place. +When he cashed in his winnings and went downstairs it was still early. +As a card-player he was not popular. He was too keen on the main +chance and he nearly always won. In spite of his loud and frequent +laugh, of the effect of bluff geniality, there was no genuine humor in +the man, none of the milk of human kindness. + +A lawyer in the reading-room rose at sight of Cunningham. "Want to see +you a minute," he said. + +"Let's go into the Red Room." + +He led the way to a small room furnished with a desk, writing supplies, +and a telephone. It was for the use of members who wanted to be +private. The lawyer shut the door. + +"Afraid I've bad news for you, Cunningham," he said. + +The other man's steady eyes did not waver. He waited silently. + +"I was at Golden to-day on business connected with a divorce case. By +chance I ran across a record that astonished me. It may be only a +coincidence of names, but--" + +"Now you've wrapped up the blackjack so that it won't hurt, suppose you +go ahead and hit me over the head with it," suggested Cunningham dryly. + +The lawyer told what he knew. The promoter took it with no evidence of +feeling other than that which showed in narrowed eyes hard as diamonds +and a clenched jaw in which the muscles stood out like ropes. + +"Much obliged, Foster," he said, and the lawyer knew he was dismissed. + +Cunningham paced the room for a few moments, then rang for a messenger. +He wrote a note and gave it to the boy to be delivered. Then he left +the club. + +From Seventeenth Street he walked across to the Paradox Apartments +where he lived. He found a note propped up against a book on the table +of his living-room. It had been written by the Japanese servant he +shared with two other bachelors who lived in the same building. + + +Mr. Hull he come see you. He sorry you not here. He say maybe perhaps +make honorable call some other time. + + +It was signed, "S. Horikawa." + +Cunningham tossed the note aside. He had no wish to see Hull. The +fellow was becoming a nuisance. If he had any complaint he could go to +the courts with it. That was what they were for. + +The doorbell rang. The promoter opened to a big, barrel-bodied man who +pushed past him into the room. + +"What you want, Hull?" demanded Cunningham curtly. + +The man thrust his bull neck forward. A heavy roll of fat swelled over +the collar. "You know damn well what I want. I want what's comin' to +me. My share of the Dry Valley clean-up. An' I'm gonna have it. See?" + +"You've had every cent you'll get. I told you that before." + +Tiny red capillaries seamed the beefy face of the fat man. "An' I told +you I was gonna have a divvy. An' I am. You can't throw down Cass +Hull an' get away with it. Not none." The shallow protuberant eyes +glittered threateningly. + +"Thought you knew me better," Cunningham retorted contemptuously. +"When I say I won't, I won't. Go to a lawyer if you think you've got a +case. Don't come belly-aching to me." + +The face of the fat man was apoplectic. "Like sin I'll go to a lawyer. +You'd like that fine, you double-crossin' sidewinder. I'll come with a +six-gun. That's how I'll come. An' soon. I'll give you two days to +come through. Two days. If you don't--hell sure enough will cough." + +Whatever else could be said about Cunningham he was no coward. He met +the raving man eye to eye. + +"I don't scare worth a cent, Hull. Get out. _Pronto_. And don't come +back unless you want me to turn you over to the police for a +blackmailing crook." + +Cunningham was past fifty-five and his hair was streaked with gray. +But he stood straight as an Indian, six feet in his socks. The sap of +strength still rang strong in him. In the days when he had ridden the +range he had been famous for his stamina and he was even yet a +formidable two-fisted fighter. + +But Hull was beyond prudence. "I'll go when I get ready, an' I'll come +back when I get ready," he boasted. + +There came a soft thud of a hard fist on fat flesh, the crash of a +heavy bulk against the door. After that things moved fast. Hull's +body reacted to the pain of smashing blows falling swift and sure. +Before he knew what had taken place he was on the landing outside on +his way to the stairs. He hit the treads hard and rolled on down. + +A man coming upstairs helped him to his feet. + +"What's up?" the man asked. + +Hull glared at him, for the moment speechless. His eyes were venomous, +his mouth a thin, cruel slit. He pushed the newcomer aside, opened the +door of the apartment opposite, went in, and slammed it after him. + +The man who had assisted him to rise was dark and immaculately dressed. + +"I judge Uncle James has been exercising," he murmured before he took +the next flight of stairs. + +On the door of apartment 12 was a legend in Old English engraved on a +calling card. It said: + + + James Cunningham + + +The visitor pushed the electric bell. Cunningham opened to him. + +"Good-evening, Uncle," the younger man said. "Your elevator is not +running, so I walked up. On the way I met a man going down. He seemed +rather in a hurry." + +"A cheap blackmailer trying to bold me up. I threw him out." + +"Thought he looked put out," answered the younger man, smiling +politely. "I see you still believe in applying direct energy to +difficulties." + +"I do. That's why I sent for you." The promoter's cold eyes were +inscrutable. "Come in and shut the door." + +The young man sauntered in. He glanced at his uncle curiously from his +sparkling black eyes. What the devil did James, Senior, mean by what +he had said? Was there any particular significance in it? + +He stroked his small black mustache. "Glad to oblige you any way I +can, sir." + +"Sit down." + +The young Beau Brummel hung up his hat and cane, sank into the easiest +chair in the room, and selected a cigarette from a gold-initialed case. + +"At your service, sir," he said languidly. + + + + +CHAPTER II + +WILD ROSE TAKES THE DUST + +"Wild Rose on Wild Fire," shouted the announcer through a megaphone +trained on the grand stand. + +Kirby Lane, who was leaning against the fence chatting with a friend, +turned round and took notice. Most people did when Wild Rose held the +center of the stage. + +Through the gateway of the enclosure came a girl hardly out of her +teens. She was bareheaded, a cowboy hat in her hand. The sun, already +slanting from the west, kissed her crisp, ruddy gold hair and set it +sparkling. Her skin was shell pink, amber clear. She walked as might +a young Greek goddess in the dawn of the world, with the free movement +of one who loves the open sky and the wind-swept plain. + +A storm of hand-clapping swept the grand stand. Wild Rose acknowledged +it with a happy little laugh. These dear people loved her. She knew +it. And not only because she was a champion. They made over her +because of her slimness, her beauty, the aura of daintiness that +surrounded her, the little touches of shy youth that still clung to her +manner. Other riders of her sex might be rough, hoydenish, or +masculine. Wild Rose had the charm of her name. Yet the muscles that +rippled beneath her velvet skin were hard as nails. No bronco alive +could unseat her without the fight of its life. + +Meanwhile the outlaw horse Wild Fire was claiming its share of +attention. The bronco was a noted bucker. Every year it made the +circuit of the rodeos and only twice had a rider stuck to the saddle +without pulling leather. Now it had been roped and cornered. Half a +dozen wranglers in chaps were trying to get it ready for the saddle. +From the red-hot eyes of the brute a devil of fury glared at the men +trying to thrust a gunny sack over its head. The four legs were wide +apart, the ears cocked, teeth bared. The animal flung itself skyward +and came down on the boot of a puncher savagely. The man gave an +involuntary howl of pain, but he clung to the rope snubbed round the +wicked head. + +The gunny sack was pushed and pulled over the eyes. Wild Fire +subsided, trembling, while bridle was adjusted and saddle slipped on. +The girl attended to the cinching herself. If the saddle turned it +might cost her life, and she preferred to take no unnecessary chances. + +She was dressed in green satin riding clothes. A beaded bolero jacket +fitted over a white silk blouse. Her boots were of buckskin, +silver-spurred. With her hat on, at a distance, one might have taken +her for a slim, beautiful boy. + +Wild Rose swung to the saddle and adjusted her feet in the stirrups. +The gunny sack was whipped from the horse's head. There was a wild +scuffle of escaping wranglers. + +For a moment Wild Fire stood quivering. The girl's hat swept through +the air in front of its eyes. The horse woke to galvanized action. +The back humped. It shot into the air with a writhing twist of the +body. All four feet struck the ground together, straight and stiff as +fence posts. + +The girl's head jerked forward as though it were on a hinge. The +outlaw went sunfishing, its forefeet almost straight up. She was still +in the saddle when it came to all fours again. A series of jarring +bucks, each ending with the force of a pile-driver as Wild Fire's hoofs +struck earth, varied the programme. The rider came down limp, half in +the saddle, half out, righting herself as the horse settled for the +next leap. But not once did her hands reach for the pommel of the +saddle to steady her. + +Pitching and bucking, the animal humped forward to the fence. + +"Look out!" a judge yelled. + +It was too late. The rider could not deflect her mount. Into the +fence went Wild Fire blindly and furiously. The girl threw up her leg +to keep it from being jammed. Up went the bronco again before Wild +Rose could find the stirrup. She knew she was gone, felt herself +shooting forward. She struck the ground close to the horse's hoofs. +Wild Fire lunged at her. A bolt of pain like a red-hot iron seared +through her. + +Through the air a rope whined. It settled over the head of the outlaw +and instantly was jerked tight. Wild Fire, coming down hard for a +second lunge at the green crumpled heap underfoot, was dragged sharply +sideways. Another lariat snaked forward and fell true. + +"Here, Cole!" The first roper thrust the taut line into the hands of a +puncher who had run forward. He himself dived for the still girl +beneath the hoofs of the rearing horse. Catching her by the arms, he +dragged her out of danger. She was unconscious. + +The cowboy picked her up and carried her to the waiting ambulance. The +closed eyes flickered open. A puzzled little frown rested in them. + +"What's up, Kirby?" asked Wild Rose. + +"You had a spill." + +"Took the dust, did I?" He sensed the disappointment in her voice. + +"You rode fine. He jammed you into the fence," explained the young man. + +The doctor examined her. The right arm hung limp. + +"Broken, I'm afraid," he said. + +"Ever see such luck?" the girl complained to Lane. + +"Probably they won't let me ride in the wild-horse race now." + +"No chance, young lady," the doctor said promptly. "I'm going to take +you right to the hospital." + +"I might get back in time," she said hopefully. + +"You might, but you won't." + +"Oh, well," she sighed. "If you're going to act like that." + +The cowboy helped her into the ambulance and found himself a seat. + +"Where do you think you're going?" she asked with a smile a bit twisted +by pain. + +"I reckon I'll go far as the hospital with you." + +"I reckon you won't. What do you think I am--a nice little parlor girl +who has to be petted when she gets hurt? You're on to ride inside of +fifteen minutes--and you know it." + +"Oh, well! I'm lookin' for an alibi so as not to be beaten. That Cole +Sanborn is sure a straight-up rider." + +"So's that Kirby Lane. You needn't think I'm going to let you beat +yourself out of the championship. Not so any one could notice it. Hop +out, sir." + +He rose, smiling ruefully. "You certainly are one bossy kid." + +"I'd say you need bossing when you start to act so foolish," she +retorted, flushing. + +"See you later," he called to her by way of good-bye. + +As the ambulance drove away she waved cheerfully at him a gauntleted +hand. + +The cowpuncher turned back to the arena. The megaphone man was +announcing that the contest for the world's rough-riding championship +would now be resumed. + + + + +CHAPTER III + +FOR THE CHAMPIONSHIP OF THE WORLD + +The less expert riders had been weeded out in the past two days. Only +the champions of their respective sections were still in the running. +One after another these lean, brown men, chap-clad and bow-legged, came +forward dragging their saddles and clamped themselves to the backs of +hurricane outlaws which pitched, bucked, crashed into fences, and +toppled over backward in their frenzied efforts to dislodge the human +clothes-pins fastened to them. + +The bronco busters endured the usual luck of the day. Two were thrown +and picked themselves out of the dust, chagrined and damaged, but still +grinning. One drew a tame horse not to be driven into resistance +either by fanning or scratching. Most of the riders emerged from the +ordeal victorious. Meanwhile the spectators in the big grand stand, +packed close as small apples in a box, watched every rider and snatched +at its thrills just as such crowds have done from the time of Caligula. + +Kirby Lane, from his seat on the fence among a group of cowpunchers, +watched each rider no less closely. It chanced that he came last on +the programme for the day. When Cole Sanborn was in the saddle he made +an audible comment. + +"I'm lookin' at the next champion of the world," he announced. + +"Not onless you've got a lookin'-glass with you, old alkali," a small +berry-brown youth in yellow-wool chaps retorted. + +Sanborn was astride a noted outlaw known as Jazz. The horse was a +sorrel, and it knew all the tricks of its kind. It went sunfishing, +tried weaving and fence-rowing, at last toppled over backward after a +frantic leap upward. The rider, long-bodied and lithe, rode like a +centaur. Except for the moment when he stepped out of the saddle as +the outlaw fell on its back, he stuck to his seat as though he were +glued to it. + +"He's a right limber young fellow, an' he sure can ride. I'll say +that," admitted one old cattleman. + +"They don't grow no better busters," another man spoke up. He was a +neighbor of Sanborn and had his local pride. "From where I come from +we'll put our last nickel on Cole, you betcha. He's top hand with a +rope too." + +"Hmp! Kirby here can make him look like thirty cents, top of a bronc +or with a lariat either one," the yellow-chapped vaquero flung out +bluntly. + +Lane looked at his champion, a trifle annoyed. "What's the use o' +talkin' foolishness, Kent? I never saw the day I had anything on Cole." + +"Beat him at Pendleton, didn't you?" + +"Luck. I drew the best horses." To Sanborn, who had finished his job +and was straddling wide-legged toward the group, Kirby threw up a hand +of greeting. "Good work, old-timer. You're sure hellamile on a bronc." + +"Kirby Lane on Wild Fire," shouted the announcer. + +Lane slid from the fence and reached for his saddle. As he lounged +forward, moving with indolent grace, one might have guessed him a +Southerner. He was lean-loined and broad-shouldered. The long, +flowing muscles rippled under his skin when he moved like those of a +panther. From beneath the band of his pinched-in hat crisp, reddish +hair escaped. + +Wild Fire was off the instant his feet found the stirrups. Again the +outlaw went through its bag of tricks and its straight bucking. The +man in the saddle gave to its every motion lightly and easily. He rode +with such grace that he seemed almost a part of the horse. His +reactions appeared to anticipate the impulses of the screaming fiend +which he was astride. When Wild Fire jolted him with humpbacked +jarring bucks his spine took the shock limply to neutralize the effect. +When it leaped heavenward he waved his hat joyously and rode the +stirrups. From first to last he was master of the situation, and the +outlaw, though still fighting savagely, knew the battle was lost. + +The bronco had one trump card left, a trick that had unseated many a +stubborn rider. It plunged sideways at the fence of the enclosure and +crashed through it. Kirby's nerves shrieked with pain, and for a +moment everything went black before him. His leg had been jammed hard +against the upper plank. But when the haze cleared he was still in the +saddle. + +The outlaw gave up. It trotted tamely back to the grand stand through +the shredded fragments of pine in the splintered fence, and the grand +stand rose to its feet with a shout of applause for the rider. + +Kirby slipped from the saddle and limped back to his fellows on the +fence. Already the crowd was pouring out from every exit of the stand. +A thousand cars of fifty different makes were snorting impatiently to +get out of the jam as soon as possible. For Cheyenne was full, full to +overflowing. The town roared with a high tide of jocund life. From +all over Colorado, Wyoming, Montana, and New Mexico hard-bitten, +sunburned youths in high-heeled boots and gaudy attire had gathered for +the Frontier Day celebration. Hundreds of cars had poured up from +Denver. Trains had disgorged thousands of tourists come to see the +festival. Many people would sleep out in automobiles and on the +prairie. The late comers at restaurants and hotels would wait long and +take second best. + +A big cattleman beckoned to Lane. "Place in my car, son. Run you back +to town." + +One of the judges sat in the tonneau beside the rough rider. + +"How's the leg? Hurt much?" + +"Not much. I'm noticin' it some," Kirby answered with a smile. + +"You'll have to ride to-morrow. It's you and Sanborn for the finals. +We haven't quite made up our minds." + +The cattleman was an expert driver. He wound in and out among the +other cars speeding over the prairie, struck the road before the great +majority of the automobiles had reached there, and was in town with the +vanguard. + +After dinner the rough rider asked the clerk at her hotel if there was +any mail for Miss Rose McLean. Three letters were handed him. He put +them in his pocket and set out for the hospital. + +He found Miss Rose reclining in a hospital chair, in a frame of mind +highly indignant. "That doctor talks as though he's going to keep me +here a week. Well, he's got another guess coming. I'll not stay," she +exploded to her visitor. + +"Now, looky here, you better do as the doc says. He knows best. +What's a week in your young life?" Kirby suggested. + +"A week's a week, and I don't intend to stay. Why did you limp when +you came in? Get hurt?" + +"Not really hurt. Jammed my leg against a fence. I drew Wild Fire." + +"Did you win the championship?" the girl asked eagerly. + +"No. Finals to-morrow. Sanborn an' me. How's the arm? Bone broken?" + +"Yes. Oh, it aches some. Be all right soon." + +He drew her letters from his pocket. "Stopped to get your mail at the +hotel. Thought you'd like to see it." + +Wild Rose looked the envelopes over and tore one open. + +"From my little sister Esther," she explained. "Mind if I read it? +I'm some worried about her. She's been writing kinda funny lately." + +As she read, the color ebbed from her face. When she had finished +reading the letter Kirby spoke gently. + +"Bad news, pardner?" + +She nodded, choking. Her eyes, frank and direct, met those of her +friend without evasion. It was a heritage of her life in the open that +in her relations with men she showed a boylike unconcern of sex. + +"Esther's in trouble. She--she--" Rose caught her breath in a stress +of emotion. + +"If there's anything I can do--" + +The girl flung aside the rug that covered her and rose from the chair. +She began to pace up and down the room. Presently her thoughts +overflowed in words. + +"She doesn't say what it is, but--I know her. She's crazy with +fear--or heartache--or something." Wild Rose was always +quick-tempered, a passionate defender of children and all weak +creatures. Now Lane knew that the hot blood was rushing stormily to +her heart. Her little sister was in danger, the only near relative she +had. She would fight for her as a cougar would for its young. "By +God, if it's a man--if he's done her wrong--I'll shoot him down like a +gray wolf. I'll show him how safe it is to--to--" + +She broke down again, clamping tight her small strong teeth to bite +back a sob. + +He spoke very gently. "Does she say--?" + +His sentence hung suspended in air, but the young woman understood its +significance. + +"No. The letter's just a--a wail of despair. She--talks of suicide. +Kirby, I've got to get to Denver on the next train. Find out when it +leaves. And I'll send a telegram to her to-night telling her I'll fix +it. I will too." + +"Sure. That's the way to talk. Be reasonable an' everything'll work +out fine. Write your wire an' I'll take it right to the office. Soon +as I've got the train schedule I'll come back." + +"You're a good pal, Kirby. I always knew you were." + +For a moment her left hand fell in his. He looked down at the small, +firm, sunbrowned fist. That hand was, as Browning has written, a woman +in itself, but it was a woman competent, unafraid, trained hard as +nails. She would go through with whatever she set out to do. + +As his eyes rested on the fingers there came to him a swift, +unreasoning prescience of impending tragedy. To what dark destiny was +she moving? + + + + +CHAPTER IV + +NOT ALWAYS TWO TO MAKE A QUARREL + +Kirby put Wild Rose on the morning train for Denver. She had escaped +from the doctor by sheer force of will. The night had been a wretched +one, almost sleepless, and she knew that her fever would rise in the +afternoon. But that could not be helped. She had more important +business than her health to attend to just now. + +Ordinarily Rose bloomed with vitality, but this morning she looked +tired and worn. In her eyes there was a hard brilliancy Kirby did not +like to see. He knew from of old the fire that could blaze in her +heart, the insurgent impulses that could sweep her into recklessness. +What would she do if the worst she feared turned out to be true? + +"Good luck," she called through the open window as the train pulled +out. "Beat Cole, Kirby." + +"Good luck to you," he answered. "Write me soon as you find out how +things are." + +But as he walked from the station his heart misgave him. Why had he +let her go alone, knowing as he did how swift she blazed to passion +when wrong was done those she loved? It was easy enough to say that +she had refused to let him go with her, though he had several times +offered. The fact remained that she might need a friend at hand, might +need him the worst way. + +All through breakfast he was ridden by the fear of trouble on her +horizon. Comrades stopped to slap him on the back and wish him good +luck in the finals, and though he made the proper answers it was with +the surface of a mind almost wholly preoccupied with another matter. + +While he was rising from the table he made a decision in the flash of +an eye. He would join Rose in Denver at once. Already dozens of cars +were taking the road. There would be a vacant place in some one of +them. + +He found a party just setting out for Denver and easily made +arrangements to take the unfilled seat in the tonneau. + +By the middle of the afternoon he was at a boarding-house on Cherokee +Street inquiring for Miss Rose McLean. She was out, and the landlady +did not know when she would be back. Probably after her sister got +home from work. + +Lane wandered down to Curtis Street, sat through a part of a movie, +then restlessly took his way up Seventeenth. He had an uncle and two +cousins living in Denver. With the uncle he was on bad terms, and with +his cousins on no terms at all. It had been ten years since he had +seen either James Cunningham, Jr., or his brother Jack. Why not call +on them and renew acquaintance? + +He went into a drug-store and looked the name up in a telephone book. +His cousin James had an office in the Equitable Building. He hung the +book up on the hook and turned to go. As he did so he came face to +face with Rose McLean. + +"You--here!" she cried. + +"Yes, I--I had business in Denver," he explained. + +"Like fun you had! You came because--" She stopped abruptly, struck +by another phase of the situation. "Did you leave Cheyenne without +riding to-day?" + +"I didn't want to ride. I'm fed up on ridin'." + +"You threw away the championship and a thousand-dollar prize to--to--" + +"You're forgettin' Cole Sanborn," he laughed. "No, honest, I came on +business. But since I'm here--say, Rose, where can we have a talk? +Let's go up to the mezzanine gallery at the Albany. It's right next +door." + +He took her into the Albany Hotel. They stepped out of the elevator at +the second floor and he found a settee in a corner where they might be +alone. It struck him that the shadows in her eyes had deepened. She +was, he could see plainly, laboring under a tension of repressed +excitement. The misery of her soul leaped out at him when she looked +his way. + +"Have you anything to tell me?" he asked, and his low, gentle voice was +a comfort to her raw nerves. + +"It's a man, just as I thought--the man she works for." + +"Is he married?" + +"No. Going to be soon, the papers say. He's a wealthy promoter. His +name's Cunningham." + +"What Cunningham?" In his astonishment the words seemed to leap from +him of their own volition. + +"James Cunningham, a big land and mining man. You must have heard of +him." + +"Yes, I've heard of him. Are you sure?" + +She nodded. "Esther won't tell me a thing. She's shielding him. But +I went through her letters and found a note from him. It's signed 'J. +C.' I accused him point-blank to her and she just put her head down on +her arms and sobbed. I know he's the man." + +"What do you mean to do?" + +"I mean to have a talk with him first off. I'll make him do what's +right." + +"How?" + +"I don't know how, but I will," she cried wildly. "If he don't I'll +settle with him. Nothing's too bad for a man like that." + +He shook his head. "Not the best way, Rose. Let's be sure of every +move we make. Let's check up on this man before we lay down the law to +him." + +Some arresting quality in him held her eye. He had sloughed the gay +devil-may-care boyishness of the range and taken on a look of strong +patience new in her experience of him. But she was worn out and +nervous. The pain in her arm throbbed feverishly. Her emotions had +held her on a rack for many hours. There was in her no reserve power +of endurance. + +"No, I'm going to see him and have it out," she flung back. + +"Then let me go with you when you see him. You're sick. You ought to +be in bed right now. You're in no condition to face it alone." + +"Oh, don't baby me, Kirby!" she burst out. "I'm all right. What's it +matter if I am fagged. Don't you see? I'm crazy about Esther. I've +got to get it settled. I can rest afterward." + +"Will it do any harm to take a friend along when you go to see this +man?" + +"Yes. I don't want him to think I'm afraid of him. You're not in +this, Kirby. Esther is my little sister, not yours." + +"True enough." A sardonic, mirthless smile touched his face. "But +James Cunningham is my uncle, not yours." + +"Your uncle?" She rose, staring at him with big, dilated eyes. "He's +your uncle, the man who--who--" + +"Yes, an' I know him better than you do. We've got to use finesse--" + +"I see." Her eyes attacked him scornfully. "You think we'd better not +face him with what he's done. You think we'd better go easy on him. +Uncle's rich, and he might not like plain words. Oh, I understand now." + +Wild Rose flung out a gesture that brushed him from her friendship. +She moved past him blazing with anger. + +He was at the elevator cage almost as soon as she. + +"Listen, Rose. You know better than that. I told you he was my uncle +because you'd find it out if I'm goin' to help you. He's no friend of +mine, but I know him. He's strong. You can't drive him by threats." + +The elevator slid down and stopped. The door of it opened. + +"Will you stand aside, sir?" Rose demanded. "I won't have anything to +do with any of that villain's family. Don't ever speak to me again." + +She stepped into the car. The door clanged shut. Kirby was left +standing alone. + + + + +CHAPTER V + +COUSINS MEET + +With the aid of a tiny looking-glass a young woman was powdering her +nose. Lane interrupted her to ask if he might see Mr. Cunningham. + +"Name, please?" she parroted pertly, and pressed a button in the +switchboard before her. + +Presently she reached for the powder-puff again. "Says to come right +in. Door 't end o' the hall." + +Kirby entered. A man sat at a desk telephoning. He was smooth-shaven +and rather heavy-set, a year or two beyond thirty, with thinning hair +on the top of his head. His eyes in repose were hard and chill. From +the conversation his visitor gathered that he was a captain in the Red +Cross drive that was on. + +As he hung up the receiver the man rose, brisk and smiling, hand +outstretched. "Glad to meet you, Cousin Kirby. When did you reach +town? And how long are you going to stay?" + +"Got in hour an' a half ago. How are you, James?" + +"Busy, but not too busy to meet old friends. Let me see. I haven't +seen you since you were ten years old, have I?" + +"I was about twelve. It was when my father moved to Wyoming." + +"Well, I'm glad to see you. Where you staying? Eat lunch with me +to-morrow, can't you? I'll try to get Jack too." + +"Suits me fine," agreed Kirby. + +"Anything I can do for you in the meantime?" + +"Yes. I want to see Uncle James." + +There was a film of wariness in the eyes of the oil broker as he looked +at the straight, clean-built young cattleman. He knew that the strong +face, brown as Wyoming, expressed a pungent personality back of which +was dynamic force. What did Lane want with his uncle? They had +quarreled. His cousin knew that. Did young Lane expect him to back +his side of the quarrel? Or did he want to win back favor with James +Cunningham, Senior, millionaire? + +Kirby smiled. He guessed what the other was thinking. "I don't want +to interfere in your friendship with him. All I need is his address +and a little information. I've come to have another row with him, I +reckon." + +The interest in Cunningham's eyes quickened. He laughed. "Aren't you +in bad enough already with Uncle? Why another quarrel?" + +"This isn't on my own account. There's a girl in his office--" + +A rap on the door interrupted Kirby. A young man walked into the room. +He was a good-looking young exquisite, dark-eyed and black-haired. His +clothes had been made by one of the best tailors in New York. +Moreover, he knew how to wear them. + +James Cunningham, Junior, introduced him to Kirby as his cousin Jack. +After a few moments of talk the broker reverted to the subject of their +previous talk. + +"Kirby was just telling me that he has come to Denver to meet Uncle +James," he explained to his brother. "Some difficulty with him, I +understand." + +Jack Cunningham's black eyes fastened on his cousin. He waited for +further information. It was plain he was interested. + +"I'm not quite sure of my facts," Lane said. "But there's evidence to +show that he has ruined a young girl in his office. She practically +admits that he's the man. I happen to be a friend of her family, an' +I'm goin' to call him to account. He can't get away with it." + +Kirby chanced to be looking at his cousin Jack. What he saw in that +young man's eyes surprised him. There were astonishment, incredulity, +and finally a cunning narrowing of the black pupils. + +It was James who spoke. His face was grave. "That's a serious charge, +Kirby," he said. "What is the name of the young woman?" + +"I'd rather not give it--except to Uncle James himself." + +"Better write it," suggested Jack with a reminiscent laugh. "He's a +bit impetuous. I saw him throw a man down the stairs yesterday. +Picked the fellow up at the foot of the flight. He certainly looked as +though he'd like to murder our dear uncle." + +"What I'd like to know is this," said Lane. "What sort of a reputation +has Uncle James in this way? Have you ever heard of his bein' in +anything of this sort before?" + +"No, I haven't," James said promptly. + +Jack shrugged. "I wouldn't pick nunky for exactly a moral man," he +said flippantly. "His idea of living is to grab all the easy things he +can." + +"Where can I see him most easily? At his office?" asked Kirby. + +"He drove down to Colorado Springs to-day on business. At least he +told me he was going. Don't know whether he expects to get back +to-night or not. He lives at the Paradox Apartments," Jack said. + +"Prob'ly I'd better see him there rather than at his office." + +"Hope you have a pleasant time with the old boy," Jack murmured. +"Don't think I'd care to be a champion of dames where he's concerned. +He's a damned cantankerous old brute. I'll say that for him." + +James arranged a place of meeting for luncheon next day. The young +cattleman left. He knew from the fidgety manner of Jack that he had +some important business he was anxious to talk over with his brother. + + + + +CHAPTER VI + +LIGHTS OUT + +It was five minutes to ten by his watch when Kirby entered the Paradox +Apartments. The bulletin board told him that his uncle's apartment was +12. He did not take the self-serve elevator, but the stairs. The hall +on the second floor was dark. Since he did not know whether the rooms +he wanted were on this floor or the next he knocked at a door. + +Kirby thought he heard the whisper of voices and he knocked again. He +had to rap a third time before the door was opened. + +"What is it? What do you want?" + +If ever Lane had seen stark, naked fear in a human face, it stared at +him out of that of the woman in front of him. She was a tall, angular +woman of a harsh, forbidding countenance, flat-breasted and +middle-aged. Behind her, farther back in the room, the roughrider +caught a glimpse of a fat, gross, ashen-faced man fleeing toward the +inner door of a bedroom to escape being seen. He was thrusting into +his coat pocket what looked to the man in the hall like a revolver. + +"Can you tell me where James Cunningham's apartment is?" asked Kirby. + +The woman gasped. The hand on the doorknob was trembling violently. +Something clicked in her throat when the dry lips tried to frame an +answer. + +"Head o' the stairs--right hand," she managed to get out, then shut the +door swiftly in the face of the man whose simple question had so +shocked her. + +Kirby heard the latch released from its catch. The key in the lock +below also turned. + +"She's takin' no chances," he murmured. "Now I wonder why both her an' +my fat friend are so darned worried. Who were they lookin' for when +they opened the door an' saw me? An' why did it get her goat when I +asked where Uncle James lived?" + +As he took the treads that brought him to the next landing the +cattleman had an impression of a light being flashed off somewhere. He +turned to the right as the woman below had directed. + +The first door had on the panel a card with his uncle's name. He +knocked, and at the same instant noticed that the door was ajar. No +answer came. His finger found the electric push button. He could hear +it buzzing inside. Twice he pushed it. + +"Nobody at home, looks like," he said to himself. "Well, I reckon I'll +step in an' leave a note. Or maybe I'll wait. If the door's open he's +liable to be right back." + +He stepped into the room. It was dark. His fingers groped along the +wall for the button to throw on the light. Before he found it a sound +startled him. + +It was the soft faint panting of some one breathing. + +He was a man whose nerves were under the best of control, but the cold +feet of mice pattered up and down his spine. Something was wrong. The +sixth sense of danger that comes to some men who live constantly in +peril was warning him. + +"Who's there?" he asked sharply. + +No voice replied, but there was a faint rustle of some one or some +thing stirring. + +He waited, crouched in the darkness. + +There came another vague rustle of movement. And presently another, +this time closer. Every sense in him was alert, keyed up to closest +attention. He knew that some one, for some sinister purpose, had come +into this apartment and been trapped here by him. + +The moments flew. He thought he could hear his hammering heart. A +stifled gasp, a dozen feet from him, was just audible. + +He leaped for the sound. His outflung hand struck an arm and slid down +it, caught at a small wrist, and fastened there. In the fraction of a +second left him he realized, beyond question, that it was a woman he +had assaulted. + +The hand was wrenched from him. There came a zigzag flash of lightning +searing his brain, a crash that filled the world for him--and he +floated into unconsciousness. + + + + +CHAPTER VII + +FOUL PLAY + +Lane came back painfully to a world of darkness. His head throbbed +distressingly. Querulously he wondered where he was and what had taken +place. + +He drew the fingers of his outstretched hand along the nap of a rug and +he knew he was on the floor. Then his mind cleared and he remembered +that a woman's hand had been imprisoned in his just before his brain +stopped functioning. + +Who was she? What was she doing here? And what under heaven had hit +him hard enough to put the lights out so instantly? + +He sat up and held his throbbing head. He had been struck on the point +of the chin and gone down like an axed bullock. The woman must have +lashed out at him with some weapon. + +In his pocket he found a match. It flared up and lit a small space in +the pit of blackness. Unsteadily he got to his feet and moved toward +the door. His mind was quite clear now and his senses abnormally +sensitive. For instance, he was aware of a faint perfume of violet in +the room, so faint that he had not noticed it before. + +There grew on him a horror, an eagerness to be gone from the rooms. It +was based on no reasoning, but on some obscure feeling that there had +taken place something evil, something that chilled his blood. + +Yet he did not go. He had come for a purpose, and it was +characteristic of him that he stayed in spite of the dread that grew on +him till it filled his breast. Again he groped along the wall for the +light switch. A second match flared in his fingers and showed it to +him. Light flooded the room. + +His first sensation was of relief. This handsome apartment with its +Persian rugs, its padded easy-chairs, its harmonious wall tints, had a +note of repose quite alien to tragedy. It was the home of a man who +had given a good deal of attention to making himself comfortable. +Indefinably, it was a man's room. The presiding genius of it was +masculine and not feminine. It lacked the touches of adornment that +only a woman can give to make a place homelike. + +Yet one adornment caught Kirby's eye at once. It was a large +photograph in a handsome frame on the table. The picture showed the +head and bust of a beautiful woman in evening dress. She was a +brunette, young and very attractive. The line of head, throat, and +shoulder was perfect. The delicate, disdainful poise and the gay +provocation in the dark, slanting eyes were enough to tell that she was +no novice in the game of sex. He judged her an expensive orchid +produced in the civilization of our twentieth-century hothouse. Across +the bottom of the picture was scrawled an inscription in a fashionably +angular hand. Lane moved closer to read it. The words were, "Always, +Phyllis." Probably this was the young woman to whom, if rumor were +true, James Cunningham, Senior, was engaged. + +On the floor, near where Kirby had been lying, lay a heavy piece of +agate evidently used for a paperweight. He picked up the smooth stone +and guessed instantly that this was the weapon which had established +contact with his chin. Very likely the woman's hand had closed on it +when she heard him coming. She had switched off the light and waited +for him. That the blow had found a vulnerable mark and knocked him out +had been sheer luck. + +Kirby passed into a luxurious bedroom beyond which was a tiled +bathroom. He glanced these over and returned to the outer apartment. +There was still another door. It was closed. As the man from Wyoming +moved toward it he felt once more a strange sensation of dread. It was +strong enough to stop him in his stride. What was he going to find +behind that door? When he laid his hand on the knob pinpricks played +over his scalp and galloped down his spine. + +He opened the door. A sweet sickish odor, pungent but not heavy, +greeted his nostrils. It was a familiar smell, one he had met only +recently. Where? His memory jumped to a corridor of the Cheyenne +hospital. He had been passing the operating-room on his way to see +Wild Rose. The door had opened and there had been wafted to him +faintly the penetrating whiff of chloroform. It was the same drug he +sniffed now. + +He stood on the threshold, groped for the switch, and flashed on the +lights. Sound though Kirby Lane's nerves were, he could not repress a +gasp at what he saw. + +Leaning back in an armchair, looking up at him with a horrible sardonic +grin, was his uncle James Cunningham. His wrists were tied with ropes +to the arms of the chair. A towel, passed round his throat, fastened +the body to the back of the chair and propped up the head. A bloody +clot of hair hung tangled just above the temple. The man was dead +beyond any possibility of doubt. There was a small hole in the center +of the forehead through which a bullet had crashed. Beneath this was a +thin trickle of blood that had run into the heavy eyebrows. + +The dead man was wearing a plaid smoking-jacket and oxblood slippers. +On the tabouret close to his hand lay a half-smoked cigar. There was a +grewsome suggestion in the tilt of the head and the gargoyle grin that +this was a hideous and shocking jest he was playing on the world. + +Kirby snatched his eyes from the grim spectacle and looked round the +room. It was evidently a private den to which the owner of the +apartment retired. There were facilities for smoking and for drinking, +a lounge which showed marks of wear, and a writing-desk in one corner. + +This desk held the young man's gaze. It was open. Papers lay +scattered everywhere and its contents had been rifled and flung on the +floor. Some one, in a desperate hurry, had searched every pigeon-hole. + +The window of the room was open. Perhaps it had been thrown up to let +out the fumes of the chloroform. Kirby stepped to it and looked down. +The fire escape ran past it to the stories above and below. + +The young cattleman had seen more than once the tragedies of the range. +He had heard the bark of guns and had looked down on quiet dead men but +a minute before full of lusty life. But these had been victims of +warfare in the open, usually of sudden passions that had flared and +struck. This was different. It was murder, deliberate, cold-blooded, +atrocious. The man had been tied up, made helpless, and done to death +without mercy. There was a note of the abnormal, of the unhuman, about +the affair. Whoever had killed James Cunningham deserved the extreme +penalty of the law. + +He was a man who no doubt had made many enemies. Always he had +demanded his pound of flesh and got it. Some one had waited patiently +for his hour and exacted a fearful vengeance for whatever wrong he had +suffered. + +Kirby decided that he must call the police at once. No time ought to +be lost in starting to run down the murderer. He stepped into the +living-room to the telephone, lifted the receiver from the hook, +and--stood staring down at a glove lying on the table. + +As he looked at it the blood washed out of his face. He had a +sensation as though his heart had been plunged into cracked ice. For +he recognized the glove on the table, knew who its owner was. + +It was a small riding-gauntlet with a device of a rose embroidered on +the wrist. He would have known that glove among a thousand. + +He had seen it, a few hours since, on the hand of Wild Rose. + + + + +CHAPTER VIII + +BY MEANS OF THE FIRE ESCAPE + +Kirby Lane stood with fascinated eyes looking down at the glove, +muscles and brain alike paralyzed. The receiver was in his hand, close +to his ear. + +A voice from the other end of the wire drifted to him. "Number, +please." + +Automatically he hung the receiver on the hook. Dazed though he was, +the rough rider knew that the police were the last people in the world +he wanted to see just now. + +All his life he had lived the adventure of the outdoors. For twelve +months he had served at the front, part of the time with the forces in +the Argonne. He had ridden stampedes and fought through blizzards. He +had tamed the worst outlaw horses the West could produce. But he had +never been so shock-shaken as he was now. A fact impossibly but +dreadfully true confronted him. Wild Rose had been alone with his +uncle in these rooms, had listened with breathless horror while Kirby +climbed the stairs, had been trapped by his arrival, and had fought +like a wolf to make her escape. He remembered the wild cry of her +outraged heart, "Nothing's too bad for a man like that." + +Lane was sick with fear. It ran through him and sapped his supple +strength like an illness. It was not possible that Rose could have +done this in her right mind. But he had heard a doctor say once that +under stress of great emotion people sometimes went momentarily insane. +His friend had been greatly wrought up from anxiety, pain, fever, and +lack of sleep. + +In replacing the telephone he had accidentally pushed aside a book. +Beneath it was a slip of paper on which had been penciled a note. He +read it, without any interest. + + +Mr. Hull he come see you. He sorry you not here. He say maybe perhaps +make honorable call some other time. + +S. HORIKAWA + + +An electric bell buzzed through the apartment. The sound of it +startled Kirby as though it had been the warning of a rattlesnake close +to his head. Some one was at the outer door ringing for admission. It +would never do for him to be caught here. + +He had been trained to swift thought reactions. Quickly but +noiselessly he stepped to the door and released the catch of the Yale +lock so that it would not open from the outside without a key. He +switched off the light and passed through the living-room into the +bedchamber. His whole desire now was to be gone from the building as +soon as possible. The bedroom also he darkened before he stepped to +the window and crept through it to the platform of the fire escape. + +The glove was still in his hand. He thrust it into his pocket as he +began the descent. The iron ladder ran down the building to the alley. +It ended ten feet above the ground. Kirby lowered himself and dropped. +He turned to the right down the alley toward Glenarm Street. + +A man was standing at the comer of the alley trying to light a cigar. +He was a reporter on the "Times," just returning from the Press Club +where he had been playing in a pool tournament. + +He stopped Lane. "Can you lend me a match, friend?" + +The cattleman handed him three or four and started to go. + +"Just a mo'," the newspaper-man said, striking a light. "Do you +always"--puff, puff--"leave your rooms"--puff, puff, puff--"by the fire +escape?" + +Kirby looked at him in silence, thinking furiously. He had been +caught, after all. There were witnesses to prove he had gone up to his +uncle's rooms. Here was another to testify he had left by the fire +escape. The best he could say was that he was very unlucky. + +"Never mind, friend," the newspaper-man went On. "You don't look like +a second-story worker to yours truly." He broke into a little amused +chuckle. "I reckon friend husband, who never comes home till Saturday +night, happened around unexpectedly and the fire escape looked good to +you. Am I right?" + +The Wyoming man managed a grin. It was not a mirthful one, but it +served. + +"You're a wizard," he said admiringly. + +The reporter had met a bootlegger earlier in the evening and had two or +three drinks. He was mellow. "Oh, I'm wise," he said with a wink. +"Chuck Ellis isn't anybody's fool. Beat it, Lothario, while the +beating's good." The last sentence and the gesture that accompanied +the words were humorous exaggerations of old-time melodrama. + +Lane took his advice without delay. + + + + +CHAPTER IX + +THE STORY IN THE "NEWS" + +From a booth in a drug-store on Sixteenth Street Kirby telephoned the +police that James Cunningham had been murdered at his home in the +Paradox Apartments. He stayed to answer no questions, but hung up at +once. From a side door of the store he stepped out to Welton Street +and walked to his hotel. + +He passed a wretched night. The distress that flooded his mind was due +less to his own danger than to his anxiety for Rose. His course of +action was not at all clear to him in case he should be identified as +the man who had been seen going to and coming from the apartment of the +murdered man. He could not explain why he was there without +implicating Rose and her sister. He would not betray them. That of +course. But he had told his cousins why he was going. Would their +story not start a hunt for the woman in the case? + +Man is an illogical biped. Before Kirby had seen the glove on the +table and associated it with the crime, his feeling had been that the +gallows was the proper end of so cruel a murderer. Now he not only +intended to protect Rose, but his heart was filled with pity for her. +He understood her better than he did any other woman, her loyalty and +love and swift, upblazing anger. Even if her hand had fired the shot, +he told himself, it was not Wild Rose who had done it--not the little +friend he had come to know and like so well, but a tortured woman +beside herself with grief for the sister to whom she had always been a +mother too. + +He slept little, and that brokenly. With the dawn he was out on the +street to buy a copy of the "News." The story of the murder had the +two columns on the right-hand side of the front page and broke over to +the third. He hurried back to his room to read it behind a locked door. + +The story was of a kind in which newspapers revel. Cunningham was a +well-known character, several times a millionaire. His death even by +illness would have been worth a column. But the horrible and grewsome +way of his taking off, the mystery surrounding it, the absence of any +apparent motive unless it were revenge, all whetted the appetite of the +editors. It was a big "story," one that would run for many days, and +the "News" played it strong. + +As Kirby had expected, he was selected as the probable assassin. A +reporter had interviewed Mr. and Mrs. Cass Hull, who occupied the +apartment just below that of the murdered man. They had told him that +a young man, a stranger to them, powerfully built and dressed like a +prosperous ranchman, had knocked on their door about 9.20 to ask the +way to the apartment of Cunningham. Hull explained that he remembered +the time particularly because he happened to be winding the clock at +the moment. + +A description of Lane was given in a two-column "box." He read it with +no amusement. It was too deadly accurate for comfort. + + +The supposed assassin of James Cunningham is described by Mrs. Cass +Hull as dressed in a pepper-and-salt suit and a white, pinched-in +cattleman's hat. He is about six feet tall, between 25 and 30 years +old, weighing about 200 or perhaps 210 pounds. His hair is a light +brown and his face tanned from the sun. + + +His age and his weight were overstated, and his clothes were almost a +khaki brown. Otherwise Mrs. Hull had given a very close description of +him, considering her state of mind at the moment when she had seen him. + +There was one sentence of the story he read over two or three times. +Hull and his wife agreed that it was about 9.20 when he had knocked on +their door, unless it was a printer's error or the reporter had made a +mistake. Kirby knew this was wrong. He had looked at his watch just +before he had entered the Paradox Apartment. He had stopped directly +under a street globe, and the time was 9.55. + +Had the Hulls deliberately shifted the time back thirty-five minutes? +If so, why? He remembered how stark terror had stared out of both +their faces. Did they know more about the murder than they pretended? +When he had mentioned his uncle's name the woman had been close to +collapse, though, of course, he could not be sure that had been the +reason. To his mind there flashed the memory of the note he had seen +on the table. The man had called on Cunningham and left word he might +call again. Was it possible the Hulls had just come down from the +apartment above when he had knocked on their door? If so, how did the +presence of Rose fit into the schedule? + +Lane pounced on the fear and the evasion of the Hulls as an out for +Wild Rose. It was only a morsel of hope, but he made the most of it. + +The newspaper was inclined to bring up stage the mysterious man who had +called up the police at 10.25 to tell them that Cunningham had been +murdered in his rooms. Who was this man? Could he be the murderer? +If so, why should he telephone the police and start immediately the +hunt after him? If not the killer, how did he know that a crime had +been committed less than an hour before? + +As soon as he had eaten breakfast, Kirby walked round to the +boarding-house on Cherokee Street where Wild Rose was staying with her +sister. Rose was out, he learned from the landlady. He asked if he +might see her sister. His anxiety was so great he could not leave +without a word of her. + +Presently Esther came down to the parlor where the young man waited for +her. Lane introduced himself as a friend of Rose. He was worried +about her, he said. She seemed to him in a highly wrought-up, nervous +state. He wondered if it would not be well to get her out of Denver. + +Esther swallowed a lump in her throat. She had never seen Rose so +jumpy, she agreed. Last night she had gone out for an hour alone. The +look in her eyes when she had come back had frightened Esther. She had +gone at once to her bedroom and locked the door, but her sister had +heard her moving about for hours. + +Then, suddenly, Esther's throat swelled and she began to sob. She knew +well enough that she was at the bottom of Wild Rose's worries. + +"Where is she now?" asked Kirby gently. + +"I don't know. She didn't tell me where she was going. +There's--there's something queer about her. I--I'm afraid." + +"What are you afraid of?" + +"She's so--so kinda fierce," Esther wailed. + +It was impossible to explain, even to this big brown friend of Rose who +looked as though his quiet strength could move mountains. He was a +man. Besides, every instinct in her drove to keep hidden the secret +that some day would tell itself. + +Her eyes fell. They rested on the "News" some boarder had tossed on +the table beside which she stood. Her thoughts were of herself and the +plight in which she had become involved. She looked at the big +headlines of the paper and for the moment did not see them. What she +did see was disgrace, the shipwreck of the young life she loved so much. + +Her pupils dilated. The words of the headline penetrated to the brain. +A hand clutched at her heart. She read again hazily-- + + JAMES CUNNINGHAM MURDERED + +--then collapsed fainting into a chair. + + + + +CHAPTER X + +KIRBY ASKS A DIRECT QUESTION + +The story of the Cunningham mystery, as it was already being called, +filled the early editions of the afternoon papers. The "Times" had the +scoop of the day. It was a story signed by Chuck Ellis, who had seen +the alleged murderer climb down by a fire escape from the window of +Cunningham's bedroom and had actually talked with the man as he emerged +from the alley. His description of the suspect tallied fairly closely +with that of Mrs. Hull, but it corrected errors in regard to weight, +age, and color of clothes. + +As Kirby walked to the Equitable Building to keep his appointment with +his cousins, it would not have surprised him if at any moment an +officer had touched him on the shoulder and told him he was under +arrest. + +Entering the office of the oil broker, where the two brothers were +waiting for him, Kirby had a sense of an interrupted conversation. +They had been talking about him, he guessed. The atmosphere was +electric. + +James spoke quickly, to bridge any embarrassment. "This is a dreadful +thing about Uncle James. I've never been so shocked before in my life. +The crime was absolutely fiendish." + +Kirby nodded. "Or else the deed of some insane person. Men in their +right senses don't do such things." + +"No," agreed James. "Murder's one thing. Such coldblooded deviltry is +quite another. There may be insanity connected with it. But one thing +is sure. I'll not rest till the villain's run to earth and punished." + +His eyes met those of his cousin. They were cold and bleak. + +"Do you think I did it?" asked Kirby quietly. + +The directness of the question took James aback. After the fraction of +a second's hesitation he spoke. "If I did I wouldn't be going to lunch +with you." + +Jack cut in. Excitement had banished his usual almost insolent +indolence. His dark eyes burned with a consuming fire. "Let's put our +cards on the table. We think you're the man the police are looking +for--the one described in the papers." + +"What makes you think that?" + +"You told us you were going to see him as soon as he got back from the +Springs. The description fits you to a T. You can't get away with an +alibi so far as I'm concerned." + +"All right," said the rough rider, his low, even voice unruffled by +excitement. "If I can't, I can't. We'll say I'm the man who came down +the fire escape. What then?" + +James was watching his cousin steadily. The pupils of his eyes +narrowed. He took the answer out of his brother's mouth. "Then we +think you probably know something about this mystery that you'll want +to tell us. You must have been on the spot very soon after the +murderer escaped. Perhaps you saw him." + +Kirby told the story of his night's adventure, omitting any reference +whatever to Wild Rose or to anybody else in the apartment when he +entered. + +After he had finished, James made his comment. "You've been very +frank, Kirby. I accept your story. A guilty man would have denied +being in the apartment, or he would have left town and disappeared." + +The range rider smiled sardonically. "I'm not so sure of that. You've +got the goods on me. I can't deny I'm the man the police are lookin' +for. Mrs. Hull would identify me. So would this reporter Ellis. All +you would have to do would be to hand my name to the nearest officer. +An' I can't run away without confessin' guilt. Even if I had killed +Uncle James, I couldn't do much else except tell some story like the +one I've told you." + +"It wouldn't go far in a court-room," Jack said. + +"Not far," admitted Kirby. "By the way, you haven't expressed an +opinion, Jack. Do you think I shot Uncle James?" + +Jack looked at him, almost sullenly, and looked away. He poked at the +corner of the desk with the ferrule of his cane. "I don't know who +shot him. You had quarreled with him, and you went to have another row +with him. A cop told me that some one who knew how to tie ropes +fastened the knots around his arms and throat. You beat it from the +room by the fire escape. A jury would hang you high as Haman on that +evidence. Damn it, there's a bad bruise on your chin wasn't there when +we saw you yesterday. For all I know he may have done it before you +put him out." + +"I struck against a corner in the darkness," Kirby said. + +"That's what _you_ say. You've got to explain it somehow. I think +your story's fishy, if you ask me." + +"Then you'd better call up the police," suggested Lane. + +"I didn't say I was going to call the cops," retorted Jack sulkily. + +James looked at his cousin. Kirby Lane was strong. You could not deny +his strength, audacious yet patient. He was a forty-horsepower man +with the smile of a boy. Moreover, his face was a certificate of +manhood. It was a recommendation more effective than words. + +"I think you're wrong, Jack," the older brother said. "Kirby had no +more to do with this than I had." + +"Thanks," Kirby nodded. + +"Let's investigate this man Hull. What Kirby says fits in with what +you saw a couple of evenings ago, Jack. I'm assuming he's the same man +Uncle flung downstairs. Uncle told you he was a black-mailer. +_There's_ one lead. Let's follow it." + +Reluctantly Kirby broached one angle of the subject that must be faced. +"What about this girl in Uncle's office--the one in trouble? Are we +goin' to bring her into this?" + +There was a moment's silence. Jack's black eyes slid from Lane to his +brother. It struck Kirby that he was waiting tensely for the decision +of James, though the reason for his anxiety was not apparent. + +James gave the matter consideration, then spoke judicially. "Better +leave her out of it. No need to smirch Uncle's reputation unless it's +absolutely necessary. We don't want the newspapers gloating over any +more scandals than they need." + +The cattleman breathed freer. He had an odd feeling that Jack, too, +was relieved. Had the young man, after all, a warmer feeling for his +dead uncle's reputation than he had given him credit for? + +As the three cousins stepped out of the Equitable Building to Stout +Street a newsboy was calling an extra. + +"A-l-l 'bout Cunn'n'ham myst'ry. Huxtry! Huxtry!" + +Kirby bought a paper. A streamer headline in red flashed at him. + + HORIKAWA; VALET OF CUNNINGHAM, DISAPPEARS + + +The lead of the story below was to the effect that Cunningham had drawn +two thousand dollars in large bills from the bank the day of his death. +Horikawa could not be found, and the police had a theory that he had +killed and robbed his master for this money. + + + + +CHAPTER XI + +THE CORONER'S INQUEST + +If Kirby had been playing his own hand only he would have gone to the +police and told them he was the man who had been seen leaving the +Paradox Apartments by the fire escape. But he could not do this +without running the risk of implicating Wild Rose. Awkward questions +would be fired at him that he could not answer. He decided not to run +away from arrest, but not to surrender himself. If the police rounded +him up, he could not help it; if they did not, so much the better. + +He made two more attempts to see Wild Rose during the day, but he could +not find her at home. When he at last did see her it was at the +inquest, where he had gone to learn all that he could of the +circumstances surrounding the murder. + +There was a risk in attending. He recognized that. But he was moved +by an imperative urge to find out all that was possible of the affair. +The force that drove him was the need in his heart to exonerate his +friend. Though he recognized the weight of evidence against her, he +could not believe her guilty. Under tremendous provocation it might be +in character for her to have shot his uncle in self-defense or while in +extreme anger. But all his knowledge of her cried out that she could +never have chloroformed him, tied him up, then taken his life while he +was helpless. She was too fine and loyal to her code, too good a +sportsman, far too tender-hearted, for such a thing. + +Yet the evidence assaulted this conviction of his soul. If the Wild +Rose in the dingy court-room had been his friend of the outdoor spaces, +he would have rejected as absurd the possibility that she had killed +his uncle. But his heart sank when he looked at this wan-faced woman +who came late and slipped inconspicuously into a back seat, whose eyes +avoided his, who was so plainly keyed up to a tremendously high pitch. +She was dressed in a dark-blue tailored serge and a black sailor hat, +beneath the rim of which the shadows on her face were dark. + +The room was jammed with people. Every aisle was packed and hundreds +were turned away. In the audience was a scattering of fashionably +dressed women, for it was possible the inquest might develop a +sensation. + +The coroner was a short, fat, little man with a highly developed sense +of his importance. It was his hour, and he made the most of it. His +methods were his own. The young assistant district attorney lounging +by the table played second fiddle. + +The first witnesses developed the movements of Cunningham during the +evening of the twenty-third. He had dined at the City Club, and had +left there after dinner to go to his apartment. To a club member +dining with him he had mentioned an appointment at his rooms with a +lady. + +A rustling wave of excitement swept the benches. Those who had come to +seek sensations had found their first thrill. Kirby drew in his breath +sharply. He leaned forward, not to miss a word. + +"Did he mention the name of the lady, Mr. Blanton?" asked the coroner, +washing the backs of his hands with the palms. + +"No." + +"Or his business with her?" + +"No. But he seemed to be annoyed." Mr. Blanton also seemed to be +annoyed. He had considered not mentioning this appointment, but his +conscience would not let him hide it. None the less he resented the +need of giving the public more scandal about a fellow club member who +was dead. He added an explanation. "My feeling was that it was some +business matter being forced on him. He had been at Colorado Springs +during the day and probably had been unable to see the lady earlier." + +"Did he say so?" + +"No-o, not exactly." + +"What did he say to give you that impression?" + +"I don't recall his words." + +"Or the substance of them?" + +"No. I had the impression, very strongly." + +The coroner reproved him tartly. "Please confine your testimony to +facts and not to impressions, Mr. Blanton. Do you know at what time +Mr. Cunningham left the City Club?" + +"At 8.45." + +"Precisely?" + +"Precisely." + +"That will do." + +Exit Mr. Blanton from the chair and from the room, very promptly and +very eagerly. + +He was followed by a teller at the Rocky Mountain National Bank. He +testified to only two facts--that he knew Cunningham and that the +promoter had drawn two thousand dollars in bills on the day of his +death. + +A tenant at the Paradox Apartments was next called to the stand. The +assistant district attorney examined him. He brought out only one fact +of importance--that he had seen Cunningham enter the building at a few +minutes before nine o'clock. + +The medical witnesses were introduced next. The police surgeon had +reached the apartment at 10.30. The deceased had come to his death, in +his judgment, from the effect of a bullet out of a .38 caliber revolver +fired into his brain. He had been struck a blow on the head by some +heavy instrument, but this in itself would probably not have proved +fatal. + +"How long do you think he had been dead when you first saw him?" + +"Less than an hour." Answering questions, the police surgeon gave the +technical medical reasons upon which he based this opinion. He +described the wound. + +The coroner washed the backs of his hands with his palms. Observing +reporters noticed that he did this whenever he intended taking the +examination into his own hands. + +"Did anything peculiar about the wound impress you?" he asked. + +"Yes. The forehead of the deceased was powder-marked." + +"Showing that the weapon had been fired close to him?" + +"Yes." + +"Anything else?" + +"One thing. The bullet slanted into the head toward the right." + +"Where was the chair in which the deceased was seated? I mean in what +part of the room." + +"Pushed close to the left-hand wall and parallel to it." + +"Very close?" + +"Touching it." + +"Under the circumstances could the revolver have been fired so that the +bullet could have taken the course it did if held in the right hand?" + +"Hardly. Not unless it was held with extreme awkwardness." + +"In your judgment, then, the revolver was fired by a left-handed +person?" + +"That is my opinion." + +The coroner swelled like a turkey cock as he waved the attorney to take +charge again. + +Lane's heart drummed fast. He did not look across the room toward the +girl in the blue tailored suit. But he saw her, just as clearly as +though his eyes had been fastened on her. The detail that stood out in +his imagination was the right arm set in splints and resting in a linen +sling suspended from the neck. + +_Temporarily Rose McLean was left-handed_. + +"Was it possible that the deceased could have shot himself?" + +"Do you mean, is it possible that somebody could have tied him to the +chair after he was dead?" + +"Yes." + +The surgeon, taken by surprise, hesitated. "That's possible, +certainly." + +James Cunningham took the witness chair after the police officers who +had arrived at the scene of the tragedy with the surgeon had finished +their testimony. One point brought out by the officers was that in the +search of the rooms the two thousand dollars was not found. The oil +broker gave information as to his uncle's affairs. + +"You knew your uncle well?" the lawyer asked presently. + +"Intimately." + +"And were on good terms with him?" + +"The best." + +"Had he ever suggested to you that he might commit suicide?" + +"Never," answered the oil broker with emphasis. "He was the last man +in the world one would have associated with such a thought." + +"Did he own a revolver?" + +"No, not to my knowledge. He had an automatic." + +"What caliber was it?" + +"I'm not quite sure--about a .38, I think." + +"When did you see it last?" + +"I don't recollect." + +The prosecuting attorney glanced at his notes. + +"You are his next of kin?" + +"My brother and I are his nephews. He had no nearer relatives." + +"You are his only nephews--his only near relatives?" + +Cunningham hesitated, for just the blinking of an eye. He did not want +to bring Kirby into his testimony if he could help it. That might +ultimately lead to his arrest. + +"He had one other nephew." + +"Living in Denver?" + +"No." + +"Where?" + +"Somewhere in Wyoming, I think. We do not correspond." + +"Do you know if he is there now?" + +The witness dodged. "He lives there, I think." + +"Do you happen to know where he is at the present moment?" + +"Yes." The monosyllable fell reluctantly. + +"Where?" + +"In Denver." + +"Not in this court-room?" + +"Yes." + +"What is the gentleman's name, Mr. Cunningham?" + +"Kirby Lane." + +"Will you point him out?" + +James did so. + +The lawyer faced the crowded benches. "I'll ask Mr. Lane to step +forward and take a seat near the front. I may want to ask him a few +questions later." + +Kirby rose and came forward. + +"To your knowledge, Mr. Cunningham, had your uncle any enemies?" asked +the attorney, continuing his examination. + +"He was a man of positive opinions. Necessarily there were people who +did not like him." + +"Active enemies?" + +"In a business sense, yes." + +"But not in a personal sense?" + +"I do not know of any. He may have had them. In going through his +desk at the office I found a letter. Here it is." + +The fat little coroner bustled forward, took the letter, and read it. +He handed it to one of the jury. It was read and passed around. The +letter was the one the promoter had received from the Dry Valley +rancher threatening his life if he ever appeared again in that part of +the country. + +"I notice that the letter is postmarked Denver," Cunningham suggested. +"Whoever mailed it must have been in the city at the time." + +"That's very important," the prosecuting attorney said. "Have you +communicated the information to the police?" + +"Yes." + +"You do not know who wrote the letter?" + +"I do not." + +The coroner put the tips of his fingers and thumbs together and +balanced on the balls of his feet. "Do you happen to know the name of +the lady with whom your uncle had an appointment on the night of his +death at his rooms?" + +"No," answered the witness curtly. + +"When was the last time you saw the deceased alive?" + +"About three o'clock on the day before that of his death." + +"Anything occur at that time throwing any light on what subsequently +occurred?" + +"Nothing whatever." + +"Very good, Mr. Cunningham. You may be excused, if Mr. Johns is +through with you, unless some member of the jury has a question he +would like to ask." + +One of the jury had. He was a dried-out wisp of a man wrinkled like a +winter pippin. "Was your uncle engaged to be married at the time of +his death?" he piped. + +There was a mild sensation in the room. Curious eyes swept toward the +graceful, slender form of a veiled woman sitting at the extreme left of +the room. + +Cunningham flushed. The question seemed to him a gratuitous probe into +the private affairs of the family. "I do not care to discuss that," he +answered quietly. + +"The witness may refuse to answer questions if he wishes," the coroner +ruled. + +Jack Cunningham was called to the stand. James had made an excellent +witness. He was quiet, dignified, and yet forceful. Jack, on the +other hand, was nervous and irritable. The first new point he +developed was that on his last visit to the rooms of his uncle he had +seen him throw downstairs a fat man with whom he had been scuffling. +Shown Hull, he identified him as the man. + +"Had you ever had any trouble with your uncle?" Johns asked him. + +"You may decline to answer if you wish," the coroner told the witness. + +Young Cunningham hesitated. "No-o. What do you mean by trouble?" + +"Had he ever threatened to cut you out of his will?" + +"Yes," came the answer, a bit sulkily. + +"Why--if you care to tell?" + +"He thought I was extravagant and wild--wanted me to buckle down to +business more." + +"What is your business?" + +"I'm with a bond house--McCabe, Foster & Clinton." + +"During the past few months have you had any difference of opinion with +your uncle?" + +"That's my business," flared the witness. Then, just as swiftly as his +irritation had come it vanished. He remembered that his uncle's +passionate voice had risen high. No doubt people in the next +apartments had heard him. It would be better to make a frank +admission. "But I don't mind answering. I have." + +"When?" + +"The last time I went to his rooms--two days before his death." + +Significant looks passed from one to another of the spectators. + +"What was the subject of the quarrel?" + +"I didn't say we had quarreled," was the sullen answer. + +"Differed, then. My question was, what about?" + +"I decline to say." + +"I think that is all, Mr. Cunningham." + +The wrinkled little juryman leaned forward and piped his question +again. "Was your uncle engaged to be married at the time of his death?" + +The startled eyes of Jack Cunningham leaped to the little man. There +was in them dismay, almost panic. Then, swiftly, he recovered and +drawled insolently, "I try to mind my own business. Do you?" + +The coroner asserted himself. "Here, here, none of that! Order in +this court, _if_ you please, gentlemen." He bustled in his manner, +turning to the attorney. "Through with Mr. Cunningham, Johns? If so, +we'll push on." + +"Quite." The prosecuting attorney consulted a list in front of him. +"Cass Hull next." + +Hull came puffing to the stand. He was a porpoise of a man. His eyes +dodged about the room in dread. It was as though he were looking for a +way of escape. + + + + +CHAPTER XII + +"THAT'S THE MAN" + +"Your name?" + +"Cass Hull." + +"Business?" + +"Real estate, mostly farm lands." + +"Did you know James Cunningham, the deceased?" asked Johns. + +"Yes. Worked with him on the Dry Valley proposition, an irrigation +project." + +"Ever have any trouble with him?" + +"No, sir--not to say trouble." Hull was already perspiring profusely. +He dragged a red bandanna from his pocket and mopped the roll of fat +that swelled over his collar. "I--we had a--an argument about a +settlement--nothin' serious." + +"Did he throw you out of his room and down the stairs?" + +"No, sir, nothin' like that a-tall. We might 'a' scuffled some, kinda +in fun like. Prob'ly it looked like we was fightin', but we wasn't. +My heel caught on a tread o' the stairs an' I fell down." Hull made +his explanation eagerly and anxiously, dabbing at his beefy face with +the handkerchief. + +"When did you last see Mr. Cunningham alive?" + +"Well, sir, that was the last time, though I reckon we heard him pass +our door." + +In answer to questions the witness explained that Cunningham had owed +him, in his opinion, four thousand dollars more than he had paid. It +was about this sum they had differed. + +"Were you at home on the evening of the twenty-third--that is, last +night?" + +The witness flung out more signals of distress. "Yes, sir," he said at +last in a voice dry as a whisper. + +"Will you tell what, if anything, occurred?" + +"Well, sir, a man knocked at our door. The woman she opened it, an' he +asked which flat was Cunningham's. She told him, an' the man he +started up the stairs." + +"Have you seen the man since?" + +"No, sir." + +"Didn't hear him come downstairs later?" + +"No, sir." + +"At what time did this man knock?" asked the lawyer from the district +attorney's office. + +Kirby Lane did not move a muscle of his body, but excitement grew in +him, as he waited, eyes narrowed, for the answer. + +"At 9.20." + +"How do you know the time so exactly?" + +"Well, sir, I was windin' the clock for the night." + +"Sure your clock was right?" + +"Yes, sir. I happened to check up on it when the court-house clock +struck nine. Mebbe it was half a minute off, as you might say." + +"Describe the man." + +Hull did, with more or less accuracy. + +"Would you know him if you saw him again?" + +"Yes, sir, I sure would." + +The coroner flung a question at the witness as though it were a weapon, +"Ever carry a gun, Mr. Hull?" + +The big man on the stand dabbed at his veined face with the bandanna. +He answered, with an ingratiating whine. "I ain't no gunman, sir. +Never was." + +"Ever ride the range?" + +"Well, yes, as you might say," the witness answered uneasily. + +"Carried a six-shooter for rattlesnakes, didn't you?" + +"I reckon, but I never went hellin' around with it." + +"Wore it to town with you when you went, I expect, as the other boys +did." + +"Mebbeso." + +"What caliber was it?" + +"A .38, sawed-off." + +"Own it now?" + +The witness mopped his fat face. "No, sir." + +"Don't carry a gun in town?" + +"No, sir." + +"Ever own an automatic?" + +"No, sir. Wouldn't know how to fire one." + +"How long since you sold your .38?" + +"Five years or so." + +"Where did you carry it?" + +"In my hip pocket." + +"Which hip pocket?" + +Hull was puzzled at the question. "Why, this one--the right one, o' +course. There wouldn't be any sense in carryin' it where I couldn't +reach it." + +"That's so. Mr. Johns, you may take the witness again." + +The young lawyer asked questions about the Dry Valley irrigation +project. He wanted to know why there was dissatisfaction among the +farmers, and from a reluctant witness drew the information that the +water supply was entirely inadequate for the needs of the land under +cultivation. + +Mrs. Hull, called to the stand, testified that on the evening of the +twenty-third a man had knocked at their door to ask in which apartment +Mr. Cunningham lived. She had gone to the door, answered his question, +and watched him pass upstairs. + +"What time was this?" + +"9.20." + +Again Kirby felt a tide of excitement running in his arteries. Why +were this woman and her husband setting back the clock thirty-five +minutes? Was it to divert suspicion from themselves? Was it to show +that this stranger must have been in Cunningham's rooms for almost an +hour, during which time the millionaire promoter had been murdered? + +"Describe the man." + +This tall, angular woman, whose sex the years had seemed to have dried +out of her personality, made a much better witness than her husband. +She was acid and incisive, but her very forbidding aspect hinted of the +"good woman" who never made mistakes. She described the stranger who +had knocked at her door with a good deal of circumstantial detail. + +"He was an outdoor man, a rancher, perhaps, or more likely a +cattleman," she concluded. + +"You have not seen him since that time?" + +She opened her lips to say "No," but she did not say it. Her eyes had +traveled past the lawyer and fixed themselves on Kirby Lane. He saw +the recognition grow in them, the leap of triumph in her as the long, +thin arm shot straight toward him. + +"That's the man!" + +A tremendous excitement buzzed in the courtroom. It was as though some +one had exploded a mental bomb. Men and women craned forward to see +the man who had been identified, the man who no doubt had murdered +James Cunningham. The murmur of voices, the rustle of skirts, the +shuffling of moving bodies filled the air. + +The coroner rapped for order. "Silence in the court-room," he said +sharply. + +"Which man do you mean, Mrs. Hull?" asked the lawyer. + +"The big brown man sittin' at the end of the front bench, the one right +behind you." + +Kirby rose. "Think prob'ly she means me," he suggested. + +An officer in uniform passed down the aisle and laid a hand on the +cattleman's shoulder. "You're under arrest," he said. + +"For what, officer?" asked James Cunningham. + +"For the murder of your uncle, sir." + +In the tense silence that followed rose a little throat sound that was +not quite a sob and not quite a wail. Kirby turned his head toward the +back of the room. + +Wild Rose was standing in her place looking at him with dilated eyes +filled with incredulity and horror. + + + + +CHAPTER XIII + +"ALWAYS, PHYLLIS" + +"Chuck" Ellis, reporter, testified that on his way home from the Press +Club on the night of the twenty-third, he stopped at an alley on +Glenarm Street to strike a light for his cigar. Just as he lit the +match he saw a man come out from the window of a room in the Paradox +Apartments and run down the fire escape. It struck him that the man +might be a burglar, so he waited in the shadow of the building. The +runner came down the alley toward him. He stopped the man and had some +talk with him. At the request of the district attorney's assistant he +detailed the conversation and located on a chart shown him the room +from which he had seen the fellow emerge. + +"Would you know him again?"' + +"Yes." + +"Do you see him in this room?" + +Ellis, just off his run, had reached the court-room only a second +before he stepped to the stand. Now he looked around, surprised at the +lawyer's question. His wandering eye halted at Lane. + +"There he is." + +"Which man do you mean?" + +"The one on the end of the bench." + +"At what time did this take place?" + +"Lemme see. About quarter-past ten, maybe." + +"Which way did he go when he left you?" + +"Toward Fifteenth Street." + +"That is all." The lawyer turned briskly toward Kirby. "Mr. Lane, +will you take the stand?" + +Every eye focused on the range rider. As he moved forward and took the +oath the scribbling reporters found in his movements a pantherish +lightness, in his compact figure rippling muscles perfectly under +control. There was an appearance of sunburnt competency about him, a +crisp confidence born of the rough-and-tumble life of the outdoor West. +He did not look like a cold-blooded murderer. Women found themselves +hoping that he was not. The jaded weariness of the sensation-seekers +vanished at sight of him. A man had walked upon the stage, one full of +vital energy. + +The assistant district attorney led him through the usual +preliminaries. Lane said that he was by vocation a cattleman, by +avocation a rough rider. He lived at Twin Buttes, Wyoming. + +One of the reporters leaned toward another and whispered, "By Moses, +he's the same Lane that won the rough-riding championship at Pendleton +and was second at Cheyenne last year." + +"Are you related to James Cunningham, the deceased?" asked the lawyer. + +"His nephew." + +"How long since you had seen him prior to your visit to Denver this +time?" + +"Three years." + +"What were your relations with him?" + +The coroner interposed. "You need answer no questions tending to +incriminate you, Mr. Lane." + +A sardonic smile rested on the rough rider's lean, brown face. "Our +relations were not friendly," he said quietly. + +A ripple of excitement swept the benches. + +"What was the cause of the bad feeling between you?" + +"A few years ago my father fell into financial difficulties. He was +faced with bankruptcy. Cunningham not only refused to help him, but +was the hardest of his creditors. He hounded him to the time of my +father's death a few months later. His death was due to a breakdown +caused by intense worry." + +"You felt that Mr. Cunningham ought to have helped him?" + +"My father helped him when he was young. What my uncle did was the +grossest ingratitude." + +"You resented it." + +"Yes." + +"And quarreled with him?" + +"I wrote him a letter an' told him what I thought of him. Later, when +we met by chance, I told him again face to face." + +"You had a bitter quarrel?" + +"Yes." + +"That was how long ago?" + +"Three years since." + +"In that time did your feelings toward him modify at all?" + +"My opinion of him did not change, but I had no longer any feelin' in +the matter." + +"Did you write to him or hear from him in that time?" + +"No." + +"Had you any expectation of being remembered in your uncle's will?" + +"None whatever," answered Kirby, smiling. "Even if he had left me +anything I should have declined to accept it. But there was no chance +at all that he would." + +"Yet when you came to town you called on him at the first opportunity?" + +"Yes." + +"On what business?" + +"I reckon we'll not go into that." + +Johns glanced at his notes and passed to another line of questioning. +"You have heard the testimony of Mr. and Mrs. Hull and of Mr. Ellis. +Is that testimony true?" + +"Except in one point. It lacked only three or four minutes to ten when +I knocked at the door an' Mrs. Hull opened it." + +"You're sure of that?" + +"Sure. I looked at my watch just before I went into the Paradox +Apartments." + +"Will you tell the jury what took place between you and Mrs. Hull?" + +"'Soon as I saw her I knew she was scared stiff about somethin'. So +was Hull. He was headin' for a bedroom, so I wouldn't see him." + +The slender, well-dressed woman in the black veil, sitting far over to +the left, leaned forward and seemed to listen intently. All over the +room there was a stir of quickened interest. + +"How did she show her fear?" + +"No color in her face, eyes dilated an' full of terror, hands +tremblin'." + +"And Mr. Hull?" + +"He was yellow. Color all gone from his face. Looked as though he'd +had a shock." + +"What was said, if anything?" + +"I asked Mrs. Hull where my uncle's apartment was. That gave her +another fright. At least she almost fainted." + +"Did she say anything?" + +"She told me where his rooms were. Then she shut the door, right in my +face. I went upstairs to Apartment 12." + +"Where your uncle lived?" + +"Where my uncle lived. I rang the bell twice an' didn't get an answer. +Then I noticed the door was ajar. I opened it, called, an' walked in, +shuttin' it behind me. I guessed he must be around an' would be back +in a few minutes." + +"Just exactly what did you do?" + +"I waited by the table in the living-room for a few minutes. There was +a note there signed by S. Horikawa." + +"We have that note. What happened next? Did your uncle return?" + +"No. I had a feelin' that somethin' was wrong. I looked into the +bedroom an' then opened the door into the small smoking-room. The odor +of chloroform met me. I found the button an' flashed on the light." + +Except the sobbing breath of an unnerved woman no slightest sound could +be heard in the court-room but Lane's quiet, steady voice. It went on +evenly, clearly, dominating the crowded room by the drama of its +undramatic timbre. + +"My uncle was sittin' in a chair, tied to it. His head was canted a +little to one side an' he was lookin' up at me. There was a bullet +hole in his forehead. He was dead." + +The veiled woman in black gasped for air. Her head sank forward and +her slender body swayed. + +"Look out!" called the witness to the woman beside her. + +Before Kirby could reach her, the fainting woman had slipped to the +floor. He stooped to lift her head from the dusty planks--and the odor +of violet perfume met his nostrils. + +"If you'll permit me," a voice said. + +The cattleman looked up. His cousin James, white to the lips, was +beside him unfastening the veil. + +The face of the woman in black was the original of the photograph Kirby +had seen in his uncle's room, the one upon which had been written the +words, "Always, Phyllis." + + + + +CHAPTER XIV + +A FRIEND IN NEED + +The rest of the coroner's inquest was anticlimax. Those who had come +to tickle their palates with excitement tasted only one other moment of +it. + +"According to your own story you must have been in your uncle's +apartment at least a quarter of an hour, Mr. Lane," said the +prosecuting attorney. "What were you doing there all that time?" + +"Most of the time I was waitin' for him to return." + +"Why did you not call up the police at once, as soon as you found the +crime had been committed?" + +"I suppose I lost my head an' went panicky. I heard some one at the +door, an' I did not want to be found there. So I ran into the bedroom, +put out the light, an' left by the fire escape." + +"Was that the conduct one would expect of an innocent man?" + +"It was the action of an innocent man." + +"You don't look like a man that would lose his head, Mr. Lane." + +A smile lit the brown face of the witness. "Perhaps I wouldn't where I +come from, but I'm not used to city ways. I didn't know what to do. +So I followed my instinct an' bolted. I was unlucky enough to be seen." + +"Carry a gun, Mr. Lane?" + +"No." He corrected himself. "Sometimes I do on the range." + +"Own one, I suppose?" + +"Two. A .45 and a .38." + +"Bring either of them to Denver?" + +"No, sir." + +"Did you see any gun of any kind in your uncle's rooms--either a +revolver or an automatic?" + +"I did not." + +"That's all, sir." + +The jury was out something more than an hour. The news of the verdict +was brought to Kirby at the city jail by his cousin James. + +"Jury finds that Uncle James came to his death from the effect of +either a blow on the head by some heavy instrument, or a bullet fired +at close quarters by some unknown person," James said. + +"Good enough. Might have been worse for me," replied Kirby. + +"Yes. I've talked with the district attorney and think I can arrange +for bond. We're going to take it up with the court to-morrow. My +opinion is that the Hulls did this. All through his testimony the +fellow sweated fear. I've put it in the hands of a private detective +agency to keep tabs on him." + +The cattleman smiled ruefully. "Trouble is I'm the only witness to +their panic right after the murder. Wish it had been some one else. +I'm a prejudiced party whose evidence won't count for much. You're +right. They've somethin' to do with it. In their evidence they +shifted the time back thirty-five minutes so as to get me into +Apartment 12 that much earlier. Why? If I could answer that question, +I could go a long way toward solvin' the mystery of who killed Uncle +James an' why he did it." + +"Probably. As I see it, we have three leads to go on. One is that the +guilty man is Hull. A second possibility is the unknown man from Dry +Valley. A third is Horikawa." + +"How about Horikawa? Did you know him well?" + +"One never knows an Oriental. Perhaps I'm prejudiced because I used to +live in California, but I never trust a Japanese fully. His sense of +right and wrong is so different from mine. Horikawa is a quiet little +fellow whose thought processes I don't pretend to understand." + +"Why did he run away if he had nothin' to conceal?" + +"Looks bad. By the way, a Japanese house-cleaner was convicted +recently of killing a woman for whom he was working. He ran away, too, +and was brought back later." + +"Well, I don't know a thing about Japs except that they're good +workers. But there's one thing about this business that puzzles me. +This murder doesn't look to me like a white man's job. An American bad +man kills an' is done with it. But whoever did this aimed to torture +an' then kill, looks like. If not, why did they tie him up first?" + +James nodded, reflectively. "Maybe something in what you say. +Orientals strike me as being kind of unhuman, if you know what I mean. +Maybe they have the red Indian habit of torture in Japan." + +"Never heard of it if they have, but I've got a kinda notion--picked it +up in my readin'--that Asiatics will go a long way to square a grudge. +If this Horikawa had anything against Uncle James he might have planned +this revenge an' taken the two thousand dollars to help his getaway." + +"Yes, he might." + +"Anyhow, I've made up my mind to one thing. You can 'most always get +the truth when you go after it good an' hard. I'm goin' to find out +who did this thing an' why." + +James Cunningham looked into his cousin's face. A strong man himself, +he recognized strength in another. Into the blue-gray eyes of the man +from Twin Buttes had come a cold steely temper that transformed the +gay, boyish face. The oil broker knew Lane had no love for his uncle. +His resolution was probably based on a desire to clear his own name. + +"I'm with you in that," he said quietly, and his own dark eyes were +hard as jade. "We'll work this out together if you say so, Kirby." + +The younger man nodded. "Suits me fine." His face softened. "You +mentioned three leads. Most men would have said four. On the face of +it, of the evidence at hand, the guilty man is sittin' right here +talkin' with you. You know that the dead man an' I had a bitter +feelin' against each other. You know there was a new cause of trouble +between us, an' that I told you I was goin' to get justice out of him +one way or another. I'm the only man known to have been in his rooms +last night. Accordin' to the Hulls I must 'a' been there when he was +killed. Then, as a final proof of my guilt, I slide out by the fire +escape to get away without bein' seen. I'll say the one big lead +points straight to Kirby Lane." + +"Yes, but there's such a thing as character," James answered. "It's +written in your face that you couldn't have done it. That's why the +jury said a person unknown." + +"Yes, but the jury didn't know what you knew, that I had a fresh cause +of quarrel with Uncle James. Do you believe me absolutely? Don't you +waver at all?" + +"I don't think you had any more to do with it than I had myself," +answered the older cousin instantly, with conviction. + +Kirby gave him his hand impulsively. "You'll sure do to ride the river +with, James." + + + + +CHAPTER XV + +A GLOVE AND THE HAND IN IT + +As Rose saw the hand of the law closing in on Kirby, she felt as though +an ironic fate were laughing in impish glee at this horrible climax of +her woe. He had sacrificed a pot of gold and his ambition to be the +champion rough rider of the world in order to keep her out of trouble. +Instead of that he had himself plunged into it head first. + +She found herself entangled in a net from which there was no easy +escape. Part, at least, of the evidence against Kirby, or at least the +implication to be drawn from it, did not fit in with what she knew to +be the truth. He had not been in the apartment of James Cunningham +from 9.30 until 10.15. He might have been there at both times, but not +for the whole interval between. Rose had the best reason in the world +for knowing that. + +But what was she to do? What ought she to do? If she went with her +story to the district attorney, her sister's shame must inevitably be +dragged forth to be flaunted before the whole world. She could not do +that. She could not make little Esther the scapegoat of her +conscience. Nor could she remain silent and let Kirby stay in prison. +That was unthinkable. If her story would free him she must tell it. +But to whom? + +She read in the "Post" that James Cunningham was endeavoring to +persuade the authorities to accept bond for his cousin's appearance. +Swiftly Rose made up her mind what she would do. She looked up in the +telephone book the name she wanted and made connections on the line. + +"Is this Mr. Cunningham?" she asked. + +"Mr. Cunningham talking," came the answer. + +"I want to see you on very important business. Can I come this +morning?" + +"I think I didn't catch your name, madam." + +"My name doesn't matter. I have information about--your uncle's death." + +There was just an instant's pause. Then, "Ten o'clock, at the office +here," Rose heard. + +A dark, good-looking young man rose from a desk in the inner office +when Rose entered exactly at ten. In his eyes there sparked a little +flicker of surprised appreciation. Jack Cunningham was always +susceptible to the beauty of women. This girl was lovely both of +feature and of form. The fluent grace of the slender young body was +charming, but the weariness of grief was shadowed under the long-lashed +eyes. + +She looked around, hesitating. "I have an appointment with Mr. +Cunningham," she explained. + +"My name," answered the young man. + +"Mr. James Cunningham?" + +"Afraid you've made a mistake. I'm Jack Cunningham. This is my +uncle's office. I'm taking charge of his affairs. You called his +number instead of my brother's. People are always confusing the two." + +"I'm sorry." + +"If I can be of any service to you," he suggested. + +"I read that your brother was trying to arrange bond for Mr. Lane. I +want to see him about that. I am Rose McLean. My sister worked for +your uncle in his office." + +"Oh!" A film of wary caution settled over his eyes. It seemed to Rose +that what she had said transformed him into a potential adversary. +"Glad to meet you, Miss McLean. If you'd rather talk with my brother +I'll make an appointment with him for you." + +"Perhaps that would be best," she said. + +"Of course he's very busy. If it's anything I could do for you--" + +"I'd like you both to hear what I have to say." + +For the beating of a pulse his eyes thrust at her as though they would +read her soul. Then he was all smiling urbanity. + +"That seems to settle the matter. I'll call my brother up and make an +appointment." + +Over the wire Jack put the case to his brother. Presently he hung up +the receiver. "We'll go right over, Miss McLean." + +They went down the elevator and passed through the lower hall of the +building to Sixteenth Street. As they walked along Stout to the +Equitable Building, Rose made an explanation. + +"I saw you and Mr. James Cunningham at the inquest." + +His memory stirred. "Think I saw you, too. 'Member your bandaged arm. +Is it broken?" + +"Yes." + +He felt the need of talking against an inner perturbation he did not +want to show. What was this girl, the sister of Esther McLean, going +to tell him and his brother? What did she know about the murder of his +uncle? Excitement grew in him and he talked at random to cover it. + +"Fall down?" + +"A horse threw me and trod on my arm." + +"Girls are too venturesome nowadays." In point of fact he did not +think so. He liked girls who were good sportsmen and played the game +hard. But he was talking merely to bridge a mental stress. "Think +they can do anything a man can. 'Fess up, Miss McLean. You'd try to +ride any horse I could, no matter how mettlesome it was. Now wouldn't +you?" + +"I wouldn't go that far," she said dryly. For an instant the thought +flickered through her mind that she would like to get this +spick-and-span riding-school model on the back of Wild Fire and see how +long he would stick to the saddle. + +James Cunningham met Rose with a suave courtesy, but with reserve. +Like his brother he knew of only one subject about which the sister of +Esther McLean could want to talk with him. Did she intend to be +reasonable? Would she accept a monetary settlement and avoid the +publicity that could only hurt her sister as well as the reputation of +the name of Cunningham? Or did she mean to try to impose impossible +conditions? How much did she know and how much guess? Until he +discovered that he meant to play his cards close. + +Characteristically, Rose came directly to the point after the first few +words of introduction. + +"You know my sister, Esther McLean, a stenographer of your uncle?" she +asked. + +The girl was standing. She had declined a chair. She stood +straight-backed as an Indian, carrying her head with fine spirit. Her +eyes attacked the oil broker, would not yield a thousandth part of an +inch to his impassivity. + +"I--have met her," he answered. + +"You know . . . about her trouble?" + +"Yes. My cousin mentioned it. We--my brother and I--greatly regret +it. Anything in reason that we can do we shall, of course, hold +ourselves bound for." + +He flashed a glance at Jack who murmured a hurried agreement. The +younger man's eyes were busy examining a calendar on the wall. + +"I didn't come to see you about that now," the young woman went on, +cheeks flushed, but chin held high. "Nor would I care to express my +opinion of the . . . the creature who could take advantage of such a +girl's love. I intend to see justice is done my sister, as far as it +can now be done. But not to-day. First, I'm here to ask you if you're +friends of Kirby Lane. Do you believe he killed his uncle?" + +"No," replied James promptly. "I am quite sure he didn't kill him. I +am trying to get him out on bond. Any sum that is asked I'll sign for." + +"Then I want to tell you something you don't know. The testimony +showed that Kirby went to his uncle's apartment about 9.20 and left +nearly an hour later. That isn't true." + +"How do you know it isn't?" + +"Because I was there myself part of the time." + +Jack stared at her in blank dismay. Astonishment looked at her, too, +from the older brother's eyes. + +"You were in my uncle's apartment--on the night of the murder?" James +said at last. + +"I was. I came to Denver to see him--to get justice for my sister. I +didn't intend to let the villain escape scot free for what he had done." + +"Pardon me," interrupted Jack, and the girl noticed his voice had a +queer note of anxiety in it. "Did your sister ever tell you that my +uncle was responsible for--?" He left the sentence in air. + +"No, she won't talk yet. I don't know why. But I found a note signed +with his initials. He's the man. I know that." + +James looked at his brother. "I think we may take that for granted, +Jack. We'll accept such responsibilities on us as it involves. +Perhaps you'd better not interrupt Miss McLean till she has finished +her story." + +"I made an appointment with him after I had tried all day to get him on +the 'phone or to see him. That was Thursday, the day I reached town." + +"He was in Colorado Springs all that day," explained James. + +"Yes, he told me so when I reached him finally at the City Club. He +didn't want to see me, but I wouldn't let him off till he agreed. So +he told me to come to the Paradox and he would give me ten minutes. He +told me not to come till nearly ten, as he would be busy. I think he +hoped that by putting it so late and at his rooms he would deter me +from coming. But I intended to see him. He couldn't get away from me +so easily as that. I went." + +Jack moistened dry lips. His debonair ease had quite vanished. "When +did you go?" + +"It was quite a little past a quarter to ten when I reached his rooms." + +"Did you meet any one going up or coming down?" asked James. + +"A man and a woman passed me on the stairs." + +"A man and a woman," repeated Jack, almost in a whisper. His attitude +was tense. His eyes burned with excitement. + +"Was it light enough to tell who they were?" James asked. His cold +eyes did not lift from hers until she answered. + +"No. It was entirely dark. The woman was on the other side of the +man. I wouldn't have been sure she was a woman except for the rustle +of her skirts and the perfume." + +"Sure it wasn't the perfume you use yourself that you smelled?" + +"I don't use any." + +"You stick to it that you met a man and a woman, but couldn't possibly +recognize either of them," James Cunningham said, still looking +straight at her. + +She hesitated an instant. Somehow she did not quite like the way he +put this. "Yes," she said steadily. + +"You didn't take the elevator up, then?" + +"No. I'm not used to automatic elevators. I rang when I got to the +door. Nobody answered, but the door was wide open. I rang again, then +went in and switched on the light. There didn't seem to be anybody in. +I didn't feel right about it. I wanted to go. But I wouldn't because +I thought maybe he--your uncle--was trying to dodge me. I looked into +the bedroom. He wasn't there. So after a little I went to a door into +another room that was shut and knocked on it. I don't know why I +opened it when no answer came. Something seemed to move my hand to the +knob. I switched the light on there." + +"Yes?" James asked, gently. + +The girl gulped. She made a weak, small gesture with her hand, as +though to push from her mind the horrible sight her eyes had looked +upon. "He was dead, in the chair, tied to it. I think I screamed. +I'm not sure. But I switched off the light and shut the door. My +knees were weak, and I felt awf'lly queer in the head. I was crazy to +get away from the place, but I couldn't seem to have the power to move. +I leaned against the door, weak and limp as a small puppy. Then I +heard some one comin' up the stairs, and I knew I mustn't be caught +there. I switched off the lights just as some one came to the landing +outside." + +"Who was it? Did he come in?" asked Jack. + +"He rang and knocked two or three times. Then he came in. I was +standing by the table with my hand on some kind of heavy metal +paperweight. His hand was groping for the light switch. I could tell +that. He must have heard me, for he called out, 'Who's there?' In the +darkness there I was horribly frightened. He might be the murderer +come back. If not, of course he'd think I had done it. So I tried to +slip by him. He jumped at me and caught me by the hand. I pulled away +from him and hit hard at his face. The paper-weight was still in my +hand and he went down just as though a hammer had hit him. I ran out +of the room, downstairs, and out into the street." + +"Without meeting anybody?" + +"Yes." + +"You don't know who it was you struck?" + +"Unless it was Kirby." + +"Jove! That explains the bruise on his chin," Jack cried out. "Why +didn't he tell us that?" + +The color flushed the young woman's cheeks. "We're friends, he and I. +If he guessed I was the one that struck him he wouldn't tell." + +"How would he guess it?" asked James. + +"He knew I meant to see your uncle--meant to make him do justice to +Esther. I suppose I'd made wild threats. Besides, I left my glove +there--on the table, I think. I'd taken it off with some notion of +writing a note telling your uncle I had been there and that he had to +see me next day." + +"The police didn't find a woman's glove in the room, did they?" James +asked his brother. + +"Didn't hear of it if they did," Jack replied. + +"That's it, you see," explained Rose. "Kirby would know my glove. It +was a small riding-gauntlet with a rose embroidered on it. He probably +took it with him when he left. He kept still about the whole thing +because I was the woman and he was afraid of gettin' me into trouble." + +"Sounds reasonable," agreed James. + +"That's how it was. Kirby's a good friend. He'd never tell on me if +they hanged him for it." + +"They won't do that, Miss McLean," the older brother assured her. +"We're going to find who did this thing. Kirby and I have shaken hands +on that. But about your story. I don't quite see how we're going to +use it. We must protect your sister, too, as well as my cousin. If we +go to the police with your evidence and ask them to release Kirby, +they'll want to arrest you." + +"I know," she nodded wisely, "and of course they'd find out about +Esther then and the papers would get it and scatter the story +everywhere." + +"Exactly. We must protect her first. Kirby wouldn't want anything +done that would hurt her. Suppose we put it up to him and see what he +wants to do." + +"But we can't have him kept in jail," she protested. + +"I'll get him out on bond; if not to-day, tomorrow." + +"Well," she agreed reluctantly. "If that's the best we can do." + +Rose would have liked to have paid back Kirby's generosity in kind. If +her sister had not been a factor of the equation she would have gone +straight to the police with her story and suffered arrest gladly to +help her friend. But the circumstances did not permit a heroic +gesture. She had to take and not give. + + + + +CHAPTER XVI + +THE LADY WITH THE VIOLET PERFUME + +"I won't have it," Kirby said flatly. "If Miss McLean tells her story +to the district attorney he'll probably arrest her. It'll come out +about her sister an' the papers will run scare-heads. No need of it +a-tall. Won't hurt me to stay here a few days if I have to." + +Jack, dapper and trim, leaned on his cane and watched his cousin. He +felt a reluctant admiration for this virile cousin so picturesquely +competent, so clean-cut and four-square of mind. Was he in love with +the Wild Rose from Wyoming, whose spirit also was like a breath from +the sweet hill pines? Or was his decision only the expression of a +native chivalry that went out to all his friends and perhaps to all +women? + +"They'd certainly arrest her," Jack commented. "From a lawyer's point +of view there's every reason why they should. Motive for the crime, +sufficient; intention to force the victim to make reparation or punish +him, declared openly; opportunity to commit it, confessed; presence on +scene and eagerness to escape being seen there, admitted. The case +against her is stronger than the one against you." He offered this +last with a smile decorously but not wholly concealed. + +"Yet she couldn't possibly have done it!" the cattleman replied. + +"Couldn't she? I wonder." The Beau Brummel stroked his bit of +mustache, with the hint of insolence his manner often suggested. + +"Not possible," said Lane forcefully. "Uncle James was a big, +two-fisted fighter. No slip of a girl could have overpowered him an' +tied him. It's not within reason." He spoke urgently, though still in +the low murmur both the cousins were using in order not to be overheard. + +Jack put a neat, highly polished boot on the desk of the sergeant of +police. "Ever hear of a lady called Delilah?" he asked lightly. + +"What about her?" In Kirby's quiet eye there was a warning. + +The man-about-town shrugged his well-tailored shoulders. "They have a +way, the ladies. Guile, my son, is more potent than force." + +"Meaning?" + +"Delilah chloroformed Samson's suspicions before she sheared his locks." + +Kirby repressed an anger that he knew was worse than futile. "It you +knew Miss McLean you couldn't misjudge her so. She thinks an' acts as +straight as a man." + +"I don't say she did it, old top. I'm merely pointing out that it's +possible she did. Point of fact your friend made a hit with me. I'd +say she's a game little thoroughbred." + +"You an' James will regard what she told you as confidential, of +course." + +"Of course. We're of your mind, too, though I put her proposition to +you. Can't see anything to be gained by airing her story unless it's +absolutely necessary on your account. By the way, James wants me to +tell you that he thinks you won't have to spend another night at this +delightful hotel the city keeps for its guests. Bond has been +practically agreed on." + +"Fine. Your brother's a brick. We're goin' to run down this business, +he an' I, an' drag the truth to light." + +A glitter of sardonic mockery shone out of the dark eyes of Cunningham. +"You'll work together fine and Sherlock-Holmes this thing till it's as +clear as mud," he predicted. + +By the middle of the afternoon Kirby was free. After he had talked +over with James a plan of campaign, he called Rose up on the telephone +and told her he would be right out to Cherokee Street. + +She came to meet him in the stuffy parlor of the boarding-house with +hand outstretched. + +"Oh, Kirby, I'm so glad to see you and so sorry I was such a horrid +little beast last time we met. I'm ashamed of myself. My temper +explodes so--and after you came to Denver to help me and gave up so +much for me. You'll forgive me, won't you?" + +"You know it, Rose," he said, smiling. + +"Yes, I do know it," she cried quickly. "That makes it worse for me to +impose on you. Now you're in trouble because of me. I should think +you'd pretty near hate me." + +"We're in trouble together," he corrected. "I thought that was +supposed to bring friends closer an' not to drive them apart." + +She flashed a quick look at him and changed the subject of +conversation. Just now she could not afford to be emotional. + +"Are you going back to Twin Buttes?" + +"No. I'm goin' to find out who killed James Cunningham an' bring the +man to justice. That's the only way to clear us both before the world." + +"Yes!" she cried eagerly. "Let me help you. Let's be partners in it, +Kirby." + +He already had one partner, but he threw him overboard instantly. +James Cunningham was retired to the position of an adviser. + +"Bully! We'll start this very minute. Tell me all you know about what +happened the evenin' of the murder." + +She told again the story she had confessed to his cousins. He asked +questions, pushed home inquiries. When she mentioned the woman who had +passed her on the stairs he showed a keen interest. + +"You say you knew it was a woman with the man by the perfume. What +kind of perfume was it?" + +"Violet." + +"Did you notice a violet perfume any other place that night?" + +"In your uncle's living-room." + +"Sure?" + +"Yes." + +"So did I." + +"The woman I met on the stairs, then, had just come from your uncle's +rooms." + +"Looks like it," he nodded in agreement. + +"Then we've got to find her. She must have been in his apartment when +he was killed." The thought came to Rose as a revelation. + +"Or right after." + +"All we've got to do is to find her and the man with her, and we've +solved the mystery," the girl cried eagerly. + +"That's not quite all," said Kirby, smiling at the way her mind leaped +gaps. "We've got to induce them to talk, an' it's not certain they +know any more than we do." + +"Her skirts rustled like silk and the perfume wasn't cheap. I couldn't +really see her, but I knew she was well dressed," Rose told him. + +"Well, that's somethin'," he said with the whimsical quirk to his mouth +she knew of old. "We'll advertise for a well-dressed lady who uses +violet perfume. Supposed to be connected with the murder at the +Paradox Apartments. Generous reward an' many questions asked." + +His badinage was of the surface only. The subconscious mind of the +rough rider was preoccupied with a sense of a vague groping. The +thought of violet perfume associated itself with something else in +addition to the darkness of his uncle's living-room, but he did not +find himself able to localize the nebulous memory. Where was it his +nostrils had whiffed the scent more recently? + +"Don't you think we ought to see all the tenants at the Paradox and +talk with them? Some of them may have seen people going in or out. Or +they may have heard voices," she said. + +"That's a good idea. We'll make a canvass of the house." + +Her eyes sparkled. "We'll find who did it! When two people look for +the truth intelligently they're bound to find it. Don't you think so?" + +"I think we'll sure round up the wolf that did this killin'," he +drawled. "Anyhow, we'll sleep on his trail for a moon or two." + +They shook hands on it. + + + + +CHAPTER XVII + +IN DRY VALLEY + +If Kirby had been a properly authenticated detective of fiction he +would have gone to his uncle's apartment, locked the door, measured the +rooms with a tape-line, found imprints of fingers on a door panel, and +carefully gathered into an envelope the ashes from the cigar his uncle +had been smoking. The data obtained would have proved conclusively +that Cunningham had come to his death at the hands of a Brahmin of high +caste on account of priceless gems stolen from a temple in India. An +analysis of the cigar ashes would have shown that a subtle poison, +unknown to the Western world, had caused the victim's heart to stop +beating exactly two minutes and twelve seconds after taking the first +puff at the cigar. Thus the fictional ethics of the situation would +have been correctly met. + +But Kirby was only a plain, outdoors Westerner. He did not know the +conventional method of procedure. It did not even occur to him at +first that Apartment 12 might still have secrets to tell him after the +police and the reporters had pawed over it for several days. But his +steps turned back several times to the Paradox as the center from which +all clues must emanate. He found himself wandering around in that +vicinity trying to pick up some of the pieces of the Chinese puzzle +that made up the mystery of his uncle's death. + +It was on one of these occasions that he and Rose met his cousin James +coming out of the apartment house. Cunningham was a man of admirable +self-control, but he looked shaken this morning. His hand trembled as +it met that of his cousin. In his eyes was the look of a man who has +suffered a shock. + +"I've been sitting alone for an hour in the room where Uncle James met +his death--been arranging his papers," he explained. "It began to get +my nerve. I couldn't stand it any longer. The horrible thing kept +jumping to my mind." He drew his right hand heavily across his eyes, +as though to shut out and brush away the sight his imagination conjured. + +His left arm hung limp. Kirby's quick eyes noticed it. + +"You've hurt yourself," Lane said. + +"Yes," admitted James. "My heel caught on the top step as I started to +walk down. I've wrenched my arm badly. Maybe I've broken it." + +"Oh, I hope not," Rose said quickly, a warm sympathy in her vibrant +young voice. "A broken arm's no fun. I find it an awful nuisance." + +The janitor of the Paradox came out and joined them. He was a little +Japanese well on toward middle life, a small-featured man with small, +neat feet. + +"You feelum all right yes now?" he asked, directing his slant, oval +eyes toward Cunningham. + +"Yes, I've got over the nausea, thanks, Shibo." James turned to the +others. "Shibo was at the foot of the stairs when I caught my heel. +He gathered up the pieces. I guess I was all in, wasn't I, Shibo?" + +The Japanese nodded agreement. "You heap sick for minute." + +"I've been worrying a good deal about this business of Uncle James, I +suppose. Anyhow, I've had two or three dizzy spells lately. Nothing +serious, though." + +"I don't wonder. You sit at a desk too much, James. What you need is +exercise. If you'd get in the saddle a couple o' hours a day an' do +some stiff ridin' you'd quit havin' dizzy spells. Sorry you're hurt, +old man. I'll trail along with you to a doctor's." + +"Not necessary. I'll be all right. It's only a few blocks to his +office. Fact is, I'm feeling quite myself again." + +"Well, if you're sure. Prob'ly you've only sprained your arm. By the +way, I'd kinda like to go over Uncle's apartment again. Mind if I do? +I don't reckon the police missed anything, but you can never tell." + +James hesitated. "I promised the Chief of Police not to let anybody +else in. Tell you what I'll do. I'll see him about it and get a +permit for you. Say, Kirby, I've been thinking one of us ought to go +up to Dry Valley and check things up there. We might find out who +wrote that note to Uncle. Maybe some one has been making threats in +public. We could see who was in town from there last week. Could you +go? To-day? Train leaves in half an hour." + +Kirby could and would. He left Rose to talk with the tenants of the +Paradox Apartments, entrained for Dry Valley at once, and by noon was +winding over the hilltops far up in the Rockies. + +He left the train at Summit, a small town which was the center of +activities for Dry Valley. Here the farmers bought their supplies and +here they marketed their butter and eggs. In the fall they drove in +their cattle and loaded them for Denver at the chutes in the railroad +yard. + +There had been times in the past when Summit ebbed and flowed with a +rip-roaring tide of turbulent life. This had been after the round-ups +in the golden yesterday when every other store building had been +occupied by a saloon and the rattle of chips lasted far into the small +hours of night. Now Colorado was dry and the roulette wheel had gone +to join memories of the past. Summit was quiet as a Sunday afternoon +on a farm. Its busiest inhabitant was a dog which lay in the sun and +lazily poked over its own anatomy for fleas. + +Kirby registered at the office of the frame building which carried on +its false front the word HOTEL. This done, he wandered down to the +shack which bore the inscription, "Dry Valley Enterprise." The owner +of the paper, who was also editor, reporter, pressman, business +manager, and circulator, chanced to be in printing some dodgers +announcing a dance at Odd Fellows' Hall. He desisted from his labors +to chat with the stranger. + +The editor was a fat, talkative little man. Kirby found it no trouble +at all to set him going on the subject of James Cunningham, Senior. In +fact, during his stay in the valley the Wyoming man could always use +that name as an "Open Sesame." It unlocked all tongues. Cunningham +and his mysterious death were absorbing topics. The man was hated by +scores who had been brought close to ruin by his chicanery. Dry Valley +rejoiced openly in the retribution that had fallen upon him. + +"Who killed him?" the editor asked rhetorically. + +"Well, sir, I'll be dawged if I know. But if I was guessin' I'd say it +was this fellow Hull, the slicker that helped him put through the Dry +Valley steal. 'Course it might 'a' been the Jap, or it might 'a' been +the nephew from Wyoming, but I'll say it was Hull. We know that cuss +Hull up here. He's one bad package, that fat man is, believe me. +Cunningham held out on him, an' he laid for the old crook an' got him. +Don't that look reasonable to you? It sure does to me. Put a rope +round Hull's neck an' you'll hang the man that killed old J. C." + +Lane put in an hour making himself _persona grata_, then read the +latest issue of the "Enterprise" while the editor pulled off the rest +of the dodgers. In the local news column he found several items that +interested him. These were: + + +Jim Harkins is down in Denver on business and won't be home till +Monday. Have a good time, Jim. + +T. J. Lupton is enjoying a few days vacation in the Queen City. He +expects to buy some fancy stock at the yards for breeding purposes. +Dry Valley is right in the van of progress. + +Art Jelks and Brad Mosely returned from Denver today after a three +days' visit in the capital. A good time was had by both. You want to +watch them, girls. The boys are both live ones. + +Oscar Olson spent a few days in Denver this week. Oscar owns a place +three miles out of town on the Spring Creek road. + + +Casually Kirby gathered information. He learned that Jim Harkins was +the town constable and not interested in land; that Lupton was a very +prosperous cattleman whose ranch was nowhere near the district promoted +by Cunningham; and that Jelks and Mosely were young fellows more or +less connected with the garage. The editor knew Olson only slightly. + +"He's a Swede--big, fair fellow--got caught in that irrigation fake of +Hull and Cunningham. Don't know what he was doin' in Denver," the +newspaperman said. + +Lane decided that he would see Olson and have a talk with him. +Incidentally, he meant to see all the Dry Valley men who had been in +Denver at the time Cunningham was killed. But the others he saw only +to eliminate them from suspicion. One glance at each of them was +enough to give them a clean bill so far as the mystery went. They knew +nothing whatever about it. + +Lane rode out to Olson's place and found him burning brush. The +cattleman explained that he was from Wyoming and wanted to sell some +registered Herefords. + +Olson looked over his dry, parched crops with sardonic bitterness. "Do +I look like I could buy registered stock?" he asked sourly. + +Kirby made a remark that set the ranchman off. He said that the crops +looked as though they needed water. Inside of five minutes he had +heard the story of the Dry Valley irrigation swindle. Olson was not a +foreigner. He had been born in Minnesota and attended the public +schools. He spoke English idiomatically and without an accent. The +man was a tall, gaunt, broad-shouldered Scandinavian of more than +average intelligence. + +The death of Cunningham had not apparently assuaged his intense hatred +of the man or the bitterness which welled out of him toward Hull. + +"Cunningham got his! Suits me fine! Now all I ask is that they hang +Hull for it!" he cried vindictively. + +"Seems to be some doubt whether Hull did it," suggested Kirby, to draw +him on. + +"That so? Mebbe there's evidence you don't know about." The words had +come out in the heat of impulse, shot at Kirby tensely and +breathlessly. Olson looked at the man on the horse and Lane could see +caution grow on him. A film of suspicion spread over the pupils +beneath the heavy, ragged eyebrows. "I ain't sayin' so. All I'm dead +sure of is that Hull did it." + +Kirby fired a shot point-blank at him. "Nobody can be dead sure of +that unless he saw him do it." + +"Mebbe some one saw him do it. Folks don't tell all they know." Olson +looked across the desert beyond the palpitating heat waves to the +mountains in the distance. + +"No. That's tough sometimes on innocent people, too." + +"Meanin' this nephew of old Cunningham. He'll get out all right." + +"Will he? There's a girl under suspicion, too. She had no more to do +with it than I had, but she's likely to get into mighty serious trouble +just the same." + +"I ain't read anything in the papers about any girl," Olson answered +sullenly. + +"No, it hasn't got to the papers yet. But it will. It's up to every +man who knows anything about this to come clean." + +"Is it?" The farmer looked bleakly at his visitor. "Seems to me you +take a lot of interest in this. Who are you, anyhow?" + +"My name is Kirby Lane." + +"Nephew of the old man?" + +"Yes." + +Olson gave a snort of dry, splenetic laughter. "And you're out here +sellin' registered Herefords." + +"I have some for sale. But that's not why I came to see you." + +"Why did you come, then?" asked the Scandinavian, his blue eyes hard +and defiant. + +"I wanted to have a look at the man who wrote the note to James +Cunningham threatenin' to dry-gulch him if he ever came to Dry Valley +again." + +It was a center shot. Kirby was sure of it. He read it in the man's +face before anger began to gather in it. + +"I'm the man who wrote that letter, am I?" The lips of Olson were +drawn back in a vicious snarl. + +"You're the man." + +"You can prove that, o' course." + +"Yes." + +"How?" + +"By your handwritin'. I've seen three specimens of it to-day." + +"Where?" + +"One at the court-house, one at the bank that holds your note, an' the +third at the office of the 'Enterprise.' You wrote an article urgin' +the Dry Valley people to fight Cunningham. That article, in your own +handwritin', is in my pocket right now." + +"I didn't tell them to gun him, did I?" + +"That's not the point. What I'm gettin' at is that the same man wrote +the article that wrote the letter to Cunningham." + +"Prove it! Prove it!" + +"The paper used in both cases was torn from the same tablet. The +writin' is the same." + +"You've got a nerve to come out here an' tell me I'm the man that +killed Cunningham," Olson flung out, his face flushing darkly. + +"I'm not sayin' that." + +"What are you sayin', then? Shoot it at me straight." + +"If I thought you had killed Cunningham I wouldn't be here now. What I +thought when I came was that you might know somethin' about it. I +didn't come out here to trap you. My idea is that Hull did it. But +I've made up my mind you're hidin' somethin'. I'm sure of it. You as +good as told me so. What is it?" Kirby, resting easy in the saddle +with his weight on one stirrup, looked straight into the rancher's eyes +as he asked the question. + +"I'd be likely to tell you if I was, wouldn't I?" jeered Olson. + +"Why not? Better tell me than wait for the police to third-degree you. +If you're not in this killin' why not tell what you know? I've told my +story." + +"After they spotted you in the court-room," the farmer retorted. "An' +how do I know you told all you know? Mebbe you're keepin' secrets, +too." + +Kirby took this without batting an eye. "An innocent man hasn't +anything to fear," he said. + +"Hasn't he?" Olson picked up a stone and flung it at a pile of rocks +he had gathered fifty yards away. He was left-handed. "How do you +know he hasn't? Say, just for argument, I do know somethin'. Say I +practically saw Cunningham killed an' hadn't a thing to do with it. +Could I get away with a story like that? You know darned well I +couldn't. Wouldn't the lawyers want to know howcome I to be so handy +to the place where the killin' was, right at the very time it took +place, me who is supposed to have threatened to bump him off myself? +Sure they would. I'd be tyin' a noose round my own neck." + +"Do you know who killed my uncle?" demanded Lane point-blank. "Did you +see it done?" + +Olson's eyes narrowed. A crafty light shone through the slitted lids. +"Hold yore hawsses. I ain't said I knew a thing. Not a thing. I was +stringin' you." + +Kirby knew he had overshot the mark. He had been too eager and had +alarmed the man. He was annoyed at himself. It would take time and +patience and finesse to recover lost ground. Shrewdly he guessed at +the rancher's state of mind. The man wanted to tell something, was +divided in mind whether to come forward as a witness or keep silent. +His evidence, it was clear enough, would implicate Hull; but, perhaps +indirectly, it would involve himself, too. + +"Well, whatever it is you know, I hope you'll tell it," the cattleman +said. "But that's up to you, not me. If Hull is the murderer, I want +the crime fastened on him. I don't want him to get off scot free. An' +that's about what's goin' to happen. The fellow's guilty, I believe, +but we can't prove it." + +"Can't we? I ain't sure o' that." Again, through the narrowed lids, +wary guile glittered. "Mebbe we can when the right time comes." + +"I doubt it." Lane spoke casually and carelessly. "Any testimony +against him loses force if it's held out too long. The question comes +up, why didn't the witness come right forward at once. No, I reckon +Hull will get away with it--if he really did it." + +"Don't you think it," Olson snapped out. "They've pretty nearly got +enough now to convict him." + +The rough rider laughed cynically. "Convict him! They haven't enough +against him even to make an arrest. They've got a dozen times as much +against me an' they turned me loose. He's quite safe if he keeps his +mouth shut--an' he will." + +Olson flung a greasewood shrub on a pile of brush. His mind, Kirby +could see, was busy with the problem before it. The man's caution and +his vindictive desire for vengeance were at war. He knew something, +evidence that would tend to incriminate Hull, and he was afraid to +bring it to the light of day. He worked automatically, and the man on +horseback watched him. On that sullen face Kirby could read fury, +hatred, circumspection, suspicion, the lust for revenge. + +The man's anger barked at Lane. "Well, what you waitin' for?" he asked +harshly. + +"Nothin'. I'm goin' now." He wrote his Denver address on a card. "If +you find there is any evidence against Hull an' want to talk it over, +perhaps you'd rather come to me than the police. I'm like you. If +Hull did it I want him found guilty. So long." + +He handed Olson his card. The man tossed it away. Kirby turned his +horse toward town. Five minutes later he looked back. The settler had +walked across to the place where he had thrown the card and was +apparently picking it up. + +The man from Wyoming smiled. He had a very strong hunch that Olson +would call on him within a week or ten days. Of course he was +disappointed, but he knew the game had to be played with patience. At +least he had learned something. The man had in his possession evidence +vitally important. Kirby meant to get that evidence from him somehow +by hook or crook. + +What was it the man knew? Was it possible he could have killed +Cunningham himself and be trying to throw the blame of it on Hull? Was +that why he was afraid to come out in the open with what testimony he +had? Kirby could not forget the bitter hatred of Cunningham the farmer +cherished. That hatred extended to Hull. What a sweet revenge to kill +one enemy and let the other one hang for the crime! + +A detail jumped to his mind. Olson had picked up a stone and thrown it +to the rock pile--with his left hand. + + + + +CHAPTER XVIII + +"BURNIN' A HOLE IN MY POCKET" + +Cole Sanborn passed through the Welcome Arch at the station carrying an +imitation-leather suitcase. He did not take a car, but walked up +Seventeenth Avenue as far as the Markham Hotel. Here he registered, +left his luggage, and made some inquiries over the telephone. + +Thirty minutes later he was shaking hands with Kirby Lane. + +"You dawg-goned old hellamile, what you mean comin' down here an' +gettin' throwed in the calaboose?" he demanded, thumping his friend on +the shoulder with a heavy brown fist. + +"I'm sure enough glad to see you, Mr. Champeen-of-the-World," Kirby +answered, falling into the easy vernacular of the outdoor country. +"Come to the big town to spend that thousand dollars you won the other +day?" + +"Y'betcha; it's burnin' a hole in my pocket. Say, you blamed ol' +horntoad, howcome you not to stay for the finals? Folks was plumb +disappointed we didn't ride it off." + +"Tell you about that later. How long you figurin' to stay in Denver, +Cole?" + +"I dunno. A week, mebbe. Fellow at the Empress wants me to go on that +circuit an' do stunts, but I don't reckon I will. Claims he's got a +trained bronc I can show on." + +"Me, I'm gonna be busy as a dog with fleas," said Kirby. "I got to +find out who killed my uncle. Suspicion rests on me, on a man named +Hull, on the Jap servant, an' on Wild Rose." + +"On Wild Rose!" exclaimed Cole, in surprise. "Have they gone crazy?" + +"The police haven't got to her yet, old-timer. But their suspicions +will be headed that way right soon if I don't get busy. She thinks her +evidence will clear me. It won't. It'll add a motive for me to have +killed him. The detectives will figure out we did it together, Rose +an' me." + +"Hell's bells! Ain't they got no sense a-tall?" + +Kirby looked at his watch. "I'm headed right now for the apartment +where my uncle was killed. Gonna look the ground over. Wanta come +along?" + +"Surest thing you know. I'm in this to a fare-you-well. Go ahead. +I'll take yore dust." + +The lithe, long-bodied man from Basin, Wyoming, clumped along in his +high-heeled boots beside his friend. Both of them were splendid +examples of physical manhood. The sun tan was on their faces, the +ripple of health in their blood. But there was this difference between +them, that while it was written on every inch of Sanborn that he lived +astride a cow-pony, Kirby might have been an irrigation engineer or a +mining man from the hills. He had neither the bow legs nor the +ungraceful roll of the man who rides most of his waking hours. His +clothes were well made and he knew how to carry them. + +As they walked across to Fourteenth Street, Kirby told as much of the +story as he could without betraying Esther McLean's part in it. He +trusted Sanborn implicitly, but the girl's secret was not his to tell. + +From James Cunningham Kirby had got the key of his uncle's apartment. +His cousin had given it to him a little reluctantly. + +"The police don't want things moved about," he had explained. "They +would probably call me down if they knew I'd let you in." + +"All I want to do is to look the ground over a bit. What the police +don't know won't worry 'em any," the cattleman had suggested. + +"All right." James had shrugged his shoulders and turned over the key. +"If you think you can find out anything I don't see any objection to +your going in." + +Sanborn applied his shrewd common sense to the problem as he listened +to Kirby. + +"Looks to me like you're overlookin' a bet, son," he said. "What about +this Jap fellow? Why did he light out so _pronto_ if he ain't in this +thing?" + +"He might 'a' gone because he's a foreigner an' guessed they'd throw it +on him. They would, too, if they could." + +"Shucks! He had a better reason than that for cuttin' his stick. Sure +had. He's in this somehow." + +"Well, the police are after him. They'll likely run him down one o' +these days. Far as I'm concerned I've got to let his trail go for the +present. There are possibilities right here on the ground that haven't +been run down yet. For instance, Rose met a man an' a woman comin' +down the stairs while she was goin' up. Who were they?" + +"Might 'a' been any o' the tenants here." + +"Yes, but she smelt a violet perfume that both she an' I noticed in the +apartment. My hunch is that the man an' the woman were comin' from my +uncle's rooms." + +"Would she recognize them? Rose, I mean?" asked Sanborn. + +"No: it was on the dark stairs." + +"Hmp! Queer they didn't come forward an' tell they had met a woman +goin' up. That is, if they hadn't anything to do with the crime." + +"Yes. Of course there might be other reasons why they must keep quiet. +Some love affair, for instance." + +"Sure. That might be, an' that would explain why they went down the +dark stairs an' didn't take the elevator." + +"Just the same I'd like to find out who that man an' woman are," Kirby +said. He lifted his hand in a small gesture. "This is the Paradox +Apartments." + +A fat man rolled out of the building just as they reached the steps. +He pulled up and stared down at Kirby. + +"What--what--?" His question hung poised. + +"What am I doin' out o' jail, Mr. Hull? I'm lookin' for the man that +killed my uncle," Kirby answered quietly, looking straight at him. + +"But--" + +"Why did you lie about the time when you saw me that night?" + +Hull got excited at once. His eyes began to dodge. "I ain't got a +word to say to you--not a word--not a word!" He came puffing down the +steps and went waddling on his way. + +"What do you think of that prize package, Cole?" asked Lane, his eyes +following the man. + +"Guilty as hell," said the bronco buster crisply. + +"I'd say so too," agreed Kirby. "I don't know as we need to look much +farther. My vote is for Mr. Cass Hull--with reservations." + + + + +CHAPTER XIX + +A DISCOVERY + +The men from Wyoming stepped into the elevator and Kirby pressed the +button numbered 3. At the third floor they got out and turned to the +right. With the Yale key his cousin had given him Kirby opened the +door of Apartment 12. + +He knew that there was not an inch of space in the rooms that the +police and the newspaper reporters had not raked as with a fine-tooth +comb for clues. The desk had been ransacked, the books and magazines +shaken, the rugs taken up. There was no chance that he would discover +anything new unless it might be by deduction. + +Wild Rose had reported to him the result of her canvass of the tenants. +One or two of them she had missed, but she had managed to see all the +rest. Nothing of importance had developed from these talks. Some did +not care to say anything. Others wanted to gossip a whole afternoon +away, but knew no more than what the newspapers had told them. The +single fact that stood out from her inquiries was that those who lived +in the three apartments nearest to Number 12 had all been out of the +house on the evening of the twenty-third. The man who rented the rooms +next those of Cunningham had left for Chicago on the twenty-second and +had not yet returned to Denver. + +Cole took in the easy-chairs, the draperies, and the soft rugs with an +appreciative eye. "The old boy believed in solid comfort. You +wouldn't think to look at this that he'd spent years on a bronc's back +buckin' blizzards. Some luxury, I'll say! Looks like one o' them +palaces of the vamp ladies the movies show." + +Kirby wasted no time in searching the apartment for evidence. What +interested him was its entrances and its exits, its relation to +adjoining rooms and buildings. He had reason to believe that, between +nine o'clock and half-past ten on the night of the twenty-third, not +less than eight persons in addition to Cunningham had been in the +apartment. How had they all managed to get in and out without being +seen by each other? + +Lane talked aloud, partly to clear his own thought and partly to put +the situation before his friend. + +"O' course I don't _know_ every one of the eight was here. I'm +guessin' from facts I do know, makin' inferences, as you might say. To +begin with, I was among those present. So was Rose. We don't need to +guess any about that." + +Cole, still almost incredulous at the mention of Rose as a suspect, +opened his lips to speak and closed them again with no word uttered. +He was one of those loyal souls who can trust without asking for +explanations. + +"The lady of the violet perfume an' her escort were here," Kirby went +on. "At least she was--most prob'ly he was, too. It's a cinch the +Hulls were in the rooms. They were scared stiff when I saw 'em a +little later. They lied on the witness stand so as to clear themselves +an' get me into trouble in their place. Olson backs up the evidence. +He good as told me he'd seen Hull in my uncle's rooms. If he did he +must 'a' been present himself. Then there's the Jap Horikawa. He'd +beat it before the police went to his room to arrest him at daybreak +the mornin' after the murder. How did he know my uncle had been +killed? It's not likely any one told him between half-past ten an' +half-past five the next mo'nin'. No, sir. He knew it because his eyes +had told him so." + +"I'll say he did," agreed Sanborn. + +"Good enough. That makes eight of us that came an' went. We don't +need to figure on Rose an' me. I came by the door an' went by the fire +escape. She walked upstairs an' down, too. The violet lady an' the +man with her took the stairs down. We know that. But how about Hull +an' Olson an' the Jap? Here's another point. Say it was 9.50 when +Rose got here. My uncle didn't reach his rooms before nine o'clock. +He changed his shoes, put on a smokin'-jacket, an' lit a cigar. He had +it half smoked before he was tied to the chair. That cuts down to less +than three quarters of an hour the time in which he was chloroformed, +tied up to the chair, an' shot, an' in which at least six people paid a +visit here, one of the six stayin' long enough to go through his desk +an' look over a whole lot o' papers. Some o' these people were sure +enough treadin' close on each other's heels an' I reckon some were +makin' quick getaways." + +"Looks reasonable," Cole admitted. + +"I'll bet I wasn't the only man in a hurry that night an' not the only +one trapped here. The window of the den was open when I came. Don't +you reckon some one else beat it by the fire escape?"' + +"Might've." + +They passed into the small room where James Cunningham had met his +death. Broad daylight though it was, Kirby felt for an instant a +tightening at his heart. In imagination he saw again the gargoyle grin +on the dead face upturned to his. With an effort he pushed from him +the grewsome memory. + +The chair in which the murdered man had been found was gone. The +district attorney had taken it for an exhibit at the trial of the man +upon whom evidence should fasten. The littered papers had been sorted +and most of them removed, probably by James Cunningham, Junior. +Otherwise the room remained the same. + +The air was close. Kirby stepped to the window and threw it up. He +looked out at the fire escape and at the wall of the rooming-house +across the alley. Denver is still young. It offers the incongruities +of the West. The Paradox Apartments had been remodeled and were modern +and up to date. Adjoining it was the Wyndham Hotel, a survival of +earlier days which could not long escape the march of progress. + +Lane and his friend stepped out to the platform of the fire escape. +Below them was the narrow alleyway, directly in front the iron frame of +the Wyndham fire escape. + +A discovery flashed across Kirby's brain and startled him. "See here, +Cole. If a man was standin' on that platform over there, an' if my +uncle had been facin' him in a chair, sittin' in front of the window, +he could 'a' rested his hand on that railin' to take aim an' made a +dead-center shot." + +Cole thought it out. "Yes, he could, if yore uncle had been facin' the +window. But the chair wasn't turned that way, you told me." + +"Not when I saw it. But some one might 'a' moved the chair afterward." + +The champion of the world grinned. "Seems to me, old man, you're +travelin' a wide trail this trip. If some one tied up the old man an' +chloroformed him an' left him here convenient, then moved him back to +the wall after he'd been shot, then some one on the fire escape could +'a' done it. What's the need of all them _ifs_? Since some one in the +room had to be in the thing, we can figure he fired the shot, too, +whilst he was doin' the rest. Besides, yore uncle's face was +powder-marked, showin' he was shot from right close." + +"Yes, that's so," agreed Lane, surrendering his brilliant idea +reluctantly. A moment, and his face brightened. "Look, Cole! The +corridor of that hotel runs back from the fire escape. If a fellow had +been standin' there he could 'a' seen into the room if the blind wasn't +down." + +"Sure enough," agreed Sanborn. "If the murderer had give him an invite +to a grand-stand seat. But prob'ly he didn't." + +"No, but it was hot that night. A man roomin' at the Wyndham might +come out to get a breath of air, say, an' if he had he might 'a' seen +somethin'." + +"Some more of them _ifs_, son. What are you drivin' at, anyhow?" + +"Olson. Maybe it was from there he saw what he did." + +Sanborn's face lost its whimsical derision. His blue eyes narrowed in +concentration of thought. "That's good guessin', Kirby. It may be +'way off; then again it may be absolutely correct. Let's find out if +Olson stayed at the Wyndham whilst he was in Denver. He'd be more apt +to hang out nearer the depot." + +"Unless he chose the Wyndham to be near my uncle." + +"Mebbeso. But if he did it wasn't because he meant the old man any +good. Prove to me that the Swede stayed there an' I'll say he's as +liable as Hull to be guilty. He could 'a' throwed a rope round that +stone curlycue stickin' out up there above us, swung acrost to the fire +escape here, an' walked right in on Cunningham." + +Lane's quick glance swept the abutment above and the distance between +the buildings. + +"You're shoutin', Cole. He could 'a' done just that. Or he might have +been waitin' in the room for my uncle when he came home." + +"Yes. More likely that was the way of it'--if we're on a hot trail +a-tall." + +"We'll check up on that first. Chances are ten to one we're barkin' up +the wrong tree. Right away we'll have a look at the Wyndham register." + +They did. The Wyndham was a rooming-house rather than a hotel, but the +landlady kept a register for her guests. She brought it out into the +hall from her room for the Wyoming men to look at. + +There, under date of the twenty-first, they found the name they were +looking for. Oscar Olson had put up at the Wyndham. He had stayed +three nights, checking out on the twenty-fourth. + +The friends walked into the street and back toward the Paradox without +a word. As they stepped into the elevator again. Lane looked at his +friend and smiled. + +"I've a notion Mr. Olson had a right interestin' trip to Denver," he +said quietly. + +"I'll say he had," answered Sanborn. "An' that ain't but half of it +either. He's mighty apt to have another interestin' one here one o' +these days." + + + + +CHAPTER XX + +THE BRASS BED + +The rough riders gravitated back to the fire escape. Kirby had studied +the relation of his uncle's apartment to the building opposite. He had +not yet examined it with reference to the adjoining rooms. + +"While we're cuttin' trail might as well be thorough," he said to his +friend. "The miscreant that did this killin' might 'a' walked out the +door or he might 'a' come through the window here. If he did that +last, which fork of the road did he take? He could go down the ladder +or swing across to the Wyndham an' slip into the corridor. Let's make +sure we've got all the prospects figured out at that." + +Before he had finished the sentence, Lane saw another way of flight. +The apartment in front of Cunningham's was out of reach of the fire +escape. But the nearest window of the one to the rear was closer. +Beneath it ran a stone ledge. An active man could swing himself from +the railing of the platform to the coping and force an entrance into +that apartment through the window. + +Kirby glanced up and down the alley. A department store delivery auto +was moving out of sight. Nobody was in the line of vision except an +occasional pedestrian passing on the sidewalk at the entrances to the +alley. + +"I'm gonna take a whirl at it," Lane said, nodding toward the window. + +"How much do they give for burglary in this state?" asked Sanborn, his +eyes dancing. "I'd kinda hate to see you do twenty years." + +"They have to catch the rabbit before they cook it, old-timer. Here +goes. Keep an eye peeled an' gimme the office if any cop shows up." + +"Mebbe the lady's at home. I don't allow to rescue you none if she +massacrees you," the world's champion announced, grinning. + +"Wrong guess, Cole. The boss of this hacienda is a man, an' he's in +Chicago right now." + +"You're the dawg-gonedest go-getter I ever threw in with," Sanborn +admitted. "All right. Go to it. If I gotta go to the calaboose I +gotta go, that's all." + +Kirby stepped lightly to the railing, edged far out with his weight on +the ledge, and swung to the window-sill. The sash yielded to the +pressure of his hands and moved up. A moment later he disappeared from +Sanborn's view into the room. + +It was the living-room of the apartment into which Lane had stepped. +The walls were papered with blue and the rug was a figured yellow and +blue. The furniture was of fumed oak, the chairs leather-padded. + +The self-invited guest met his first surprise on the table. It was +littered with two or three newspapers. The date of the uppermost +caught his eye. It was a copy of the "Post" of the twenty-fifth. He +looked at the other papers. One was the "Times" and another the +"News," dated respectively the twenty-fourth and the twenty-sixth. +There was an "Express" of the twenty-eighth. Each contained long +accounts of the developments in the Cunningham murder mystery. + +How did these papers come here? The apartment was closed, its tenant +in Chicago. The only other persons who had a key and the right of +entry were Horikawa and the Paradox janitor, and the house servant had +fled to parts unknown. Who, then, had brought these papers here? And +why? Some one, Lane guessed, who was vitally interested in the murder. +He based his presumption on one circumstance. The sections of the +newspapers which made no reference to the Cunningham affair had been +jammed into the waste-paper basket close to an adjoining desk. + +The apartment held two rooms, a buffet kitchen and a bathroom. Kirby +opened the door into the bedroom. + +He stood paralyzed on the threshold. On the bed, fully dressed, his +legs stretched in front of him and his feet crossed, was the missing +man Horikawa. His torso was propped up against the brass posts of the +bedstead. A handkerchief encircled each arm and bound it to the brass +upright behind. + +In the forehead, just above the slant, oval eyes, was a bullet hole. +The man had probably been dead for a day, at least for a good many +hours. + +The cattleman had no doubt that it was Horikawa. His picture, a good +snapshot taken by a former employer at a picnic where the Japanese had +served the luncheon, had appeared in all the papers and on handbills +sent out by James Cunningham, Junior. There was a scar, Y-shaped and +ragged, just above the left eye, that made identification easy. + +Kirby stepped to the window of the living-room and called to his friend. + +"Want me to help you gather the loot?" chaffed Cole. + +"Serious business, old man," Kirby told him, and the look on his face +backed the words. + +Sanborn swung across to the window and came through. + +"What is it?" he asked quickly. + +"I've found Horikawa." + +"Found him--where?" + +The eyes of the men met and Cole guessed that grim tragedy was in the +air. He followed Kirby to the bedroom. + +"God!" he exclaimed. + +His gaze was riveted to the bloodless, yellow face of the Oriental. +Presently he broke the silence to speak again. + +"The same crowd that killed Cunningham must 'a' done this, too." + +"Prob'ly." + +"Sure they must. Same way exactly." + +"Unless tyin' him up here was an afterthought--to make it look like the +other," suggested Lane. He added, after a moment, "Or for revenge, +because Horikawa killed my uncle. If he did, fate couldn't have sent a +retribution more exactly just." + +"Sho, that's a heap unlikely. You'd have to figure there were _two_ +men that are Apache killers, both connected with this case, both with +minds just alike, one of 'em a Jap an' the other prob'ly a white man. +A hundred to one shot, I'd call it. No, sir. Chances are the same man +bossed both jobs." + +"Yes," agreed Kirby. "The odds are all that way." + +He stepped closer and looked at the greenish-yellow flesh. "May have +been dead a couple o' days," he continued. + +"What was the sense in killin' him? What for? How did he come into +it?" Cole's boyish face wrinkled in perplexity. "I don't make head or +tail of this thing. Cunningham's enemies couldn't be his enemies, too, +do you reckon?" + +"More likely he knew too much an' had to be got out of the road." + +"Yes, but--" Sanborn stopped, frowning, while he worked out what he +had to say. "He wasn't killed right after yore uncle. Where was he +while the police were huntin' for him everywhere? If he knew somethin' +why didn't he come to bat with it? What was he waitin' for? An' if +the folks that finally bumped him off knew he didn't aim to tell what +he knew, whyfor did they figure they had to get rid of him?" + +"I can't answer your questions right off the reel, Cole. Mebbe I could +guess at one or two answers, but they likely wouldn't be right. F'r +instance, I could guess that he was here in this room from the time my +uncle was killed till he met his own death." + +"In this room?" + +"In these apartments. Never left 'em, most likely. What's more, some +one knew he was here an' kept him supplied with the daily papers." + +"Who?" + +"If I could tell you that I could tell you who killed him," answered +Kirby with a grim, mirthless smile. + +"How do you know all that?" + +Lane told him of the mute testimony of the newspapers in the +living-room. "Some one brought those papers to him every day," he +added. + +"And then killed him. Does that look reasonable to you?" + +"We don't know the circumstances. Say, to make a long shot, that the +Jap had been hired to kill my uncle by this other man, and say he was +beginnin' to get ugly an' make threats. Or say Horikawa knew about the +killin' of my uncle an' was hired by the other man to keep away. Then +he learns from the papers that he's suspected, an' he gets anxious to +go to the police with what he knows. Wouldn't there be reason enough +then to kill him? The other man would have to do it to save himself." + +"I reckon." Cole harked back to a preceding suggestion. "The revenge +theory won't hold water. If some friend of yore uncle knew the Jap had +killed him he'd sick the law on him. He wouldn't pull off any private +execution like this." + +Kirby accepted this. "That's true. There's another possibility. +We've been forgettin' the two thousand dollars my uncle drew from the +bank the day he was killed. If Horikawa an' some one else are guilty +of the murder an' the theft, they might have quarreled later over the +money. Perhaps the accomplice saw a chance to get away with the whole +of it by gettin' rid of Horikawa." + +"Mebbeso. By what you tell me yore uncle was a big, two-fisted +scrapper. It was a two-man job to handle him. This li'l' Jap never in +the world did it alone. What it gets back to is that he was prob'ly in +on it an' later for some reason his pardner gunned him." + +"Well, we'd better telephone for the police an' let them do some of the +worryin'." + +Kirby stepped into the living-room, followed by his friend. He was +about to reach for the receiver when an exclamation stopped him. +Sanborn was standing before a small writing-desk, of which he had just +let down the top. He had lifted idly a piece of blotting-paper and was +gazing down at a sheet of paper with writing on it. + +"Looky here, Kirby," he called. + +In three strides Lane was beside him. His eyes, too, fastened on the +sheet and found there the pot-hooks we have learned to associate with +Chinese and Japanese chirography. + +"Shows he'd been makin' himself at home," the champion rough rider said. + +Lane picked up the paper. There were two or three sheets of the +writing. "Might be a letter to his folks--or it might be--" His +sentence flickered out. He was thinking. "I reckon I'll take this +along with me an' have it translated, Cole." + +He put the sheets in his pocket after he had folded them. "You never +can tell. I might as well know what this Horikawa was thinkin' about +first off as the police. There's just an off chance he might 'a' seen +Rose that night an' tells about it here." + +A moment later he was telephoning to the City Hall for the police. + +There was the sound of a key in the outer door. It opened, and the +janitor of the Paradox stood in the doorway. + +"What you do here?" asked the little Japanese quickly. + +"We came in through the window," explained Kirby. "Thought mebbe the +man that killed my uncle slipped in here." + +"I hear you talk. I come in. You no business here." + +"True enough, Shibo. But we're not burglars an' we're here. Lucky we +are too. We've found somethin'." + +"Mr. Jennings he in Chicago. He no like you here." + +"I want to show you somethin', Shibo. Come." + +Kirby led the way into the bedroom. Shibo looked at his countryman +without a muscle of his impassive face twitching. + +"Some one killum plenty dead," he said evenly. + +"Quite plenty," Kirby agreed, watching his imperturbable Oriental face. + +The cattleman admitted to himself that what he did not know about +Japanese habits of mind would fill a great many books. + + + + +CHAPTER XXI + +JAMES LOSES HIS TEMPER + +Cole grinned whimsically at his friend. + +"Do we light out now or wait for the cops?" he asked. + +"We wait. They'd probably find out, anyhow, that we'd been here." + +Five minutes later a patrol wagon clanged up to the Paradox. A +sergeant of police and two plainclothes men took the elevator. The +sergeant, heading the party, stopped in the doorway of the apartment +and let a hard, hostile eye travel up and down Lane's six feet. + +"Oh, it's you," he said suspiciously. + +Kirby smiled. "That's right, officer. We've met before, haven't we?" + +They had. The sergeant was the man who had arrested him at the +coroner's inquest. It had annoyed him that the authorities had later +released the prisoner on bond. + +"Have you touched the body or moved anything since you came?" the +sergeant demanded. + +"No, sir, to both questions, except the telephone when I used it to +reach headquarters." + +The officer made no answer. He and the detectives went into the +bedroom, examined the dead valet's position and clothes, made a tour of +the rooms, and came back to Lane. + +"Who's your friend?" asked the sergeant superciliously. + +"His name is Cole Sanborn." + +"The champion bronco buster?" + +"Yes." + +The sergeant looked at Sanborn with increased respect. His eyes went +back to Kirby sullenly. + +"What you doing here?" + +"We were in my uncle's apartment lookin' things over. We stepped out +on the fire escape an' happened to notice this window here was open a +little. It just came over me that mebbe we might discover some +evidence here. So I got in by the window, saw the body of the Jap, an' +called my friend." + +"Some one hire you to hunt up evidence?" the officer wanted to know +with heavy sarcasm. + +"I hired myself. My good name is involved. I'm goin' to see the +murderer is brought to justice." + +"You are, eh?" + +"Yes." + +"Well, I'll say you could find him if anybody could." + +"You're entitled to your opinion, sergeant, just as I am to mine, but +before we're through with this case you'll have to admit you've been +wrong." + +Lane turned to his friend. "We'll go now, Cole, if you're ready." + +The sergeant glared at this cool customer who refused to be appalled at +the position in which he stood. He had half a mind to arrest the man +again on the spot, but he was not sure enough of his ground. Not very +long since he had missed a promotion by being overzealous. He did not +want to make the same mistake twice. + +The Wyoming men walked across to Seventeenth Street and down it to the +Equitable Building. James Cunningham was in his office. + +He looked up as they entered, a cold smile on his lips. + +"Ah, my energetic cousin," he said, with his habitual touch of irony. +"What's in the wind now?" + +Kirby told him. Instantly James became grave. His irony vanished. In +his face was a flicker almost of consternation at this follow-up +murder. He might have been asking himself how much more trouble was +coming. + +"We'll get the writing translated. You have it with you?" he said. + +His eyes ran over the pages Lane handed him. "I know a Jap we can get +to read it for us, a reliable man, one who won't talk if we ask him not +to." + +The broker's desk buzzer rang. He talked for a moment over the +telephone, then hung up again. + +"Sorry," Cunningham said, "I'm going to be busy for an hour or two. +Going to lunch with Miss Phyllis Harriman. She was Uncle James's +fiancee, perhaps you know. There are some affairs of the estate to be +arranged. I wonder if you could come back later this afternoon. Say +about four o'clock. We'll take up then the business of the +translation. I'll get in touch with a Japanese in the meantime." + +"Suits me. Shall I leave the writing here?" + +"Yes, if you will. Doesn't matter, of course, but since we have it +I'll put it in the safe." + +"How's the arm?" Kirby asked, glancing at the sling his cousin wore. + +"Only sprained. The doctor thinks I must have twisted it badly as I +fell. I couldn't sleep a wink all night. The damned thing pained so." + +James looked as though he had not slept well. His eyes were shadowed +and careworn. + +They walked together as far as the outer office. A slender, dark young +woman, beautifully gowned, was waiting there. James introduced her to +his cousin and Sanborn as Miss Harriman. She was, Kirby knew at once, +the original of the photograph he had seen in his uncle's rooms. + +Miss Harriman was a vision of sheathed loveliness. The dark, +long-lashed eyes looked out at Kirby with appealing wistfulness. When +she moved, the soft lines of her body took on a sinuous grace. From +her personality there seemed to emanate an enticing aura of sex mystery. + +She gave Kirby her little gloved hand. "I'm glad to meet you, Mr. +Lane," she said, smiling at him. "I've heard all sorts of good things +about you from James--and Jack." + +She did not offer her hand to Sanborn, perhaps because she was busy +buttoning one of the long gloves. Instead, she gave him a flash of her +eyes and a nod of the carefully coiffured head. + +Kirby said the proper things, but he said them with a mind divided. +For his nostrils were inhaling again the violet perfume that associated +itself with his first visit to his uncle's apartment. He did not +start. His eyes did not betray him. His face could be wooden on +occasion, and it told no stories now. But his mind was filled with +racing thoughts. Had Phyllis Harriman been the woman Rose had met on +the stairs? What had she been doing in Cunningham's room? Who was the +man with her? What secret connected with his uncle's death lay hidden +back of the limpid innocence of those dark, shadowed eyes? She was one +of those women who are forever a tantalizing mystery to men. What was +she like behind the inscrutable, charming mask of her face? + +Lane carried this preoccupation with him throughout the afternoon. It +was still in the hinterland of his thoughts when he returned to his +cousin's office. + +His entrance was upon a scene of agitated storm. His cousin was in the +outer office facing a clerk. In his eyes there was a cold fury of +anger that surprised Kirby. He had known James always as +self-restrained to the point of chilliness. Now his anger seemed to +leap out and strike savagely. + +"Gross incompetence and negligence, Hudson. You are discharged, sir. +I'll not have you in my employ an hour longer. A man I have trusted +and found wholly unworthy." + +"I'm sorry, Mr. Cunningham," the clerk said humbly. "I don't see how I +lost the paper, if I did, sir. I was very careful when I took the +deeds and leases out of the safe. It seems hardly possible--" + +"But you lost it. Nobody else could have done it. I don't want +excuses. You can go, sir." Cunningham turned abruptly to his cousin. +"The sheets of paper with the Japanese writing have been lost. This +man, by some piece of inexcusable carelessness, took them with a bundle +of other documents to my lawyer's office. He must have taken them. +They were lying with the others. Now they can't be found anywhere." + +"Have you 'phoned to your lawyer?" asked Kirby. + +"'Phoned and been in person. They are nowhere to be found. They ought +to turn up somewhere. This clerk probably dropped them. I've sent an +advertisement to the afternoon papers." + +Kirby was taken aback at this unexpected mischance, but there was no +use wasting nerve energy in useless fretting. He regretted having left +the papers with James, for he felt that in them might be the key to the +mystery of the Cunningham case. But he had no doubt that his cousin +was more distressed about the loss than he was. He comforted himself +with the reflection that a thorough search would probably restore them, +anyhow. + +He asked Hudson a few questions and had the man show them exactly where +he had picked up the papers he took to the lawyer. James listened, his +anger still simmering. + +Kirby took his cousin by the arm and led him into the inner office. + +"Frankly, James, I think you were partly to blame," he said. "You must +have laid the writing very close in the safe to the other papers. +Hadn't you better give Hudson another chance before you fire him?" His +disarming smile robbed both the criticism and the suggestion of any +offense they might otherwise have had. + +In the end he persuaded Cunningham to withdraw his discharge of the +clerk. + +"He doesn't deserve it," James grumbled. "He's maybe spoiled our +chance of laying hands on the man who killed Uncle. I can't get over +my disappointment." + +"Don't worry, old man," Lane said quietly. "We're goin' to rope an' +hogtie that wolf even if Horikawa can't point him out to us with his +dead hand." + +Cunningham looked at him, and again the faint, ironic smile of +admiration was in evidence. "You're confident, Kirby." + +"Why wouldn't I be? With you an' Rose McLean an' Cole Sanborn an' I +all followin' the fellow's trail, he can't double an' twist enough to +make a getaway. We'll ride him down sure." + +"Maybe we will and maybe we won't," the oil broker replied. "I'd give +odds that he goes scot free." + +"Then you'd lose," Kirby answered, smiling easily. + + + + +CHAPTER XXII + +"ARE YOU WITH ME OR AGAINST ME?" + +Miss Phyllis Harriman had breakfasted earlier than usual. Her +luxuriant, blue-black hair had been dressed and she was debating the +important question as to what gown she would wear. The business of her +life was to make an effective carnal appeal, and she had a very sure +sense of how to accomplish this. + +A maid entered with a card, at which Miss Harriman glanced indolently. +A smile twitched at the corners of her mouth, but it was not wholly one +of amusement. In the dark eyes a hint of adventure sparked. Her +pulses beat with a little glow of triumph. For this young woman was of +the born coquettes. She could no more resist alluring an attractive +man and playing with him to his subsequent mental discomfort than she +could refrain from bridge drives and dinner dances. This Wild Man from +Wyoming, so strong of stride, so quietly competent, whose sardonic +glance had taken her in so directly and so keenly, was a foeman worthy +of her weapons. + +"Good gracious!" she murmured, "does he usually call in the middle of +the night, I wonder? And does he really expect me to see him now?" + +The maid waited. She had long ago discovered that Miss Phyllis did not +always regulate her actions by her words. + +"Take him into the red room and tell him I'll be down in a minute," +Miss Harriman decided. + +After which there was swift action in the lady's boudoir. + +The red room was scarcely more than a cozy alcove set off the main +reception-room, but it had a note of warmth, of friendly and seductive +intimacy. Its walls whispered of tete-a-tetes, the cushions hinted at +interesting secrets they were forever debarred from telling. In short, +when Miss Harriman was present, it seemed, no less than the clothes she +wore, an expression of her personality. + +After a very few minutes Miss Phyllis sauntered into the room and gave +her hand to the man who rose at her entrance. She was simply but +expensively gowned. Her smile was warm for Kirby. It told him, with a +touch of shy reluctance, that he was the one man in the world she would +rather meet just now. He did not know that it would have carried the +same message to any one of half a dozen men. + +"I'm so glad you came to see me," she said, just as though she were in +the habit of receiving young men at eleven in the morning. "Of course +I want to know you better. James thinks so much of you." + +"And Jack," added Lane, smilingly. + +"Oh, yes. Jack, too," she said, and laughed outright when their eyes +met. + +"I'm sure Jack's very fond of me. He can't help showing it +occasionally." + +"Jack's--impulsive," she explained. "But he's amenable to influence." + +"Of the right sort. I'm sure he would be." + +He found himself the object of a piquant, amused scrutiny under her +long lashes. It came to him that this Paris-gowned, long-limbed young +sylph was more than willing to let him become intrigued by her charms. +But Kirby Lane had not called so early in the day to fall in love. + +"I came to see you, Miss Harriman, about the case," he said. "My good +name is involved. I must clear it. I want you to help me." + +He saw a pulse of excitement flutter in her throat. It seemed to him +that her eyes grew darker, as though some shadow of dread had fallen +over them. The provocative smile vanished. + +"How can _I_ help you?" she asked. + +"If you would answer a few questions--" + +"What questions?" All the softness had gone from her voice. It had +become tense and sharp. + +"Personal ones. About you and my uncle. You were engaged to him, were +you not?" + +"Yes." + +"There wasn't any quarrel between you recently, was there?" + +A flash of apprehension filled her eyes. Then, resolutely, she +banished fear and called to her aid hauteur. + +"There was not, though I quite fail to see how this can concern you, +Mr. Lane." + +"I don't want to distress you," he said gently, "Just now that question +must seem to you a brutal one. Believe me, I don't want to hurt you." + +Her eyes softened, grew wistful and appealing. "I'm sure you don't. +You couldn't. It's all so--so dreadful to think about." There was a +little catch in her throat as the voice broke. "Let's talk of +something more cheerful. I want to forget it all." + +"I'm sure you do. We all want to do that. The surest way to get it +out of our minds is to solve the mystery and find out who is guilty. +That's why I want you to tell me a few things to clear up my mind." + +"But I don't know anything about it--nothing at all. Why should you +come to me?" + +"When did you last see my uncle alive?" + +"What a dreadful question! It was--let me think--in the afternoon--the +day before--" + +"And you parted from him on the best of terms?" + +"Of course." + +He leaned toward her ever so little, his eyes level with hers and +steadily fastened upon her. "That's the last time you saw him--until +you went to his rooms at the Paradox the night he was killed?" + +She had lifted her hand to pat into place an escaping tendril of hair. +The hand remained lifted. The dark eyes froze with horror. They +stared at him, as though held by some dreadful fascination. From her +cheeks the color ebbed. Kirby thought she was going to faint. + +But she did not. A low moan of despair escaped from the ashen lips. +The lifted arm fell heavily to her lap. + +Then Kirby discovered that the two in the red room had become three. +Jack Cunningham was standing in the doorway. + +His glance flashed to Lane accusingly. "What's up? What are you doing +here?" he demanded abruptly. + +The Wyoming man rose. "I've been asking Miss Harriman a question." + +"A question. What business have you to ask her questions?" demanded +Jack hotly. + +His cousin tried a shot in the dark. "I was asking her," he said, his +voice low and even, "about that visit you and she paid to Uncle James's +rooms the night he was killed." + +Kirby knew instantly he had scored a hit. The insolence, the jaunty +confidence, were stricken from him as by a buffet in the face. For a +moment body and mind alike were lax and stunned. Then courage flowed +back into his veins. He came forward, blustering. + +"What do you mean? What visit? It's a damned lie." + +"Is it? Then why is the question such a knockout to you and Miss +Harriman? She almost fainted, and it certainly crumpled you up till +you got second breath." + +Jack flushed angrily. "O' course it shocked her for you to make such a +charge against her. It would frighten any woman. By God, it's an +outrage. You come here and try to browbeat Miss Harriman when she's +alone. You ask her impudent questions, as good as tell her she--she--" + +Kirby's eyes were like a glittering rapier probing for the weakness of +his opponent's defense. "I say that she and you were in the rooms of +Uncle James at 9.50 the evening he was killed. I say that you +concealed the fact at the inquest. Why?" He shot his question at the +other man with the velocity of a bullet. + +Cunningham's lip twitched, his eye wavered. How much did his cousin +know? How much was he merely guessing? + +"Who told you we were there? How do you know it? I don't propose to +answer every wild accusation nor to let Miss Harriman be insulted by +you. Who are you, anyhow? A man accused of killing my uncle, the man +who found his valet dead and is suspected of that crime, too, a fellow +who would be lying behind the bars now if my brother hadn't put up the +money to save the family from disgrace. If we tell all we know, the +police will grab you again double-quick. Yet you have the nerve to +come here and make insinuations against the lady who is mourning my +uncle's death. I've a good mind to 'phone for the police right now." + +"Do," suggested Kirby, smiling. "Then we'll both tell what we know and +perhaps things will clear up a bit." + +It was a bluff pure and simple. He couldn't tell what he knew any more +than his cousin could. The part played by Rose and Esther McLean in +the story barred him from the luxury of truth-telling. Moreover, he +had no real evidence to back his suspicions. But Jack did not know how +strong the restraining influence was. + +"I didn't say I was going to 'phone. I said I'd a jolly good mind to," +Cunningham replied sulkily. + +"I'd advise you not to start anything you can't finish, Jack. I'll +give you one more piece of advice, too. Come clean with what you know. +I'm goin' to find out, anyhow. Make up your mind to that. I'm goin' +through with this job till it's done." + +"You'll pull off your Sherlock-Holmes stuff in jail, then, for I'm +going to ask James to get off your bond," Jack retorted vindictively. + +"As you please about that," Lane said quietly. + +"He'll choose between you or me. I'll be damned if I'll stand for his +keeping a man out of jail to try and fasten on me a murder I didn't do." + +"I haven't said you did it. What I say is that you and Miss Harriman +know somethin' an' are concealin' it. What is it? I'm not a fool. I +don't think you killed Uncle any more than I did. But you an' Miss +Harriman have a secret. Why don't you go to James an' make a clean +breast of it? He'll tell you what to do." + +"The devil he will! I tell you we haven't any secret. We weren't in +Uncle's rooms that night." + +"Can you prove an alibi for the whole evening--both of you?" the range +rider asked curtly. + +"None of your business. We're not in the prisoner's dock. It's you +that is likely to be there," Jack tossed out petulantly. + +Phyllis Harriman had flung herself down to sob with her head in the +pillows. But Kirby noticed that one small pink ear was in the open to +take in the swift sentences passing between the men. + +"I'm intendin' to make it my business," Lane said, his voice ominously +quiet. + +"You're laying up trouble for yourself," Jack warned blackly. "If you +want me for an enemy you're going at this the right way." + +"I'm not lookin' for enemies. What I want is the truth. You're +concealin' it. We'll see if you can make it stick." + +"We're not concealing a thing." + +"Last call for you to show down your cards, Jack. Are you with me or +against me?" asked Kirby. + +"Against you, you meddling fool!" Cunningham burst out in a gust of +fury. "Don't you meddle with my affairs, unless you want trouble right +off the bat. I'm not going to have a Paul Pry nosing around and +hinting slanders about me and Miss Harriman. What do you think I am? +I'll protect my good name and this lady's if I have to do it with a +gun. Don't forget that, Mr. Lane." + +Kirby's steady gaze appraised him coolly. "You're excited an' talkin' +foolishness. I'm not attackin' anybody's good name. I'm lookin' for +the man who killed Uncle James. I'm expectin' to find him. If anybody +stands in the way, I'm liable to run against him." + +The man from Twin Buttes bowed toward the black hair and pink ear of +his hostess. He turned on his heel and walked from the room. + + + + +CHAPTER XXIII + +COUSINS DISAGREE + +It was essential to Kirby's plans that he should be at liberty. If he +should be locked up in prison even for a few days the threads that he +had begun to untangle from the snarl known as the Cunningham mystery +would again be ensnared. He was not sure what action James would take +at his brother's demand that he withdraw from the bond. But Lane had +no desire to embarrass him by forcing the issue. He set about securing +a new bond. + +He was, ten minutes later, in the law offices of Irwin, Foster & +Warren, attorneys who represented the cattle interests in Wyoming with +which Kirby was identified. Foster, a stout, middle-aged man with only +a few locks of gray hair left, heard what the rough rider had to say. + +"I'll wire to Caldwell and to Norman as you suggest, Mr. Lane," he +said. "If they give me instructions to stand back of you, I'll arrange +a new bond as soon as possible." + +"Will it take long? I can't afford to be tied up behind the bars right +now." + +"Not if I can get it accepted. I'll let you know at once." + +Kirby rose. He had finished his business. + +"Just a moment, Mr. Lane." Foster leaned back in his swivel-chair and +looked out of the window. His eyes did not focus on any detail of the +office building opposite. They had the far-away look which denotes a +preoccupied mind. "Ever been to Golden?" he asked at last abruptly, +swinging back in his seat and looking at his client. + +"No. Why?" + +"Golden is the Gretna Green of Denver, you know. When young people +elope they go to Golden. When a couple gets married and doesn't want +it known they choose Golden. Very convenient spot." + +"I'm not figuring on gettin' married right now," the cattleman said, +smiling. + +"Still you might find a visit to the place interesting and useful. I +was there on business a couple of weeks ago." + +The eyes of the men fastened. Lane knew he was being given a hint that +Foster did not want to put more directly. + +"What are the interestin' points of the town?" asked the Twin Buttes +man. + +"Well, sir, there are several. Of course, there's the School of Mines, +and the mountains right back of the town. Gold was discovered there +somewhere about fifty-seven, I think. Used to be the capital of the +territory before Denver found her feet." + +"I'm rather busy." + +"Wouldn't take you long to run over on the interurban." The lawyer +began to gather toward him the papers upon which he had been working +when the client was shown in. He added casually: "I found it quite +amusing to look over the marriage licenses of the last month or two. +Found the names there of some of our prominent citizens. Well, I'll +call you up as soon as I know about the bond." + +Lane was not entirely satisfied with what he had been told, but he knew +that Foster had said all he meant to say. One thing stuck in his mind +as the gist of the hint. The attorney was advising him to go to the +court-house and check up the marriage licenses. + +He walked across to the Equitable Building and dropped in on his cousin +James. Cunningham rose to meet him a bit stiffly. The cattleman knew +that Jack had already been in to see him or had got him on the wire. + +Kirby brushed through any embarrassment there might be and told frankly +why he had come. + +"I've had a sort of row with Jack. Under the circumstances I don't +feel that I ought to let you stay on my bond. It might create +ill-feelin' between you an' him. So I'm arrangin' to have some Wyoming +friends put up whatever's required. You'll understand I haven't any +bad feeling against you, or against him for that matter. You've been +bully all through this thing, an' I'm certainly in your debt." + +"What's the trouble between you about?" asked James. + +"I've found out that he an' Miss Harriman were in Uncle James's rooms +the night he was killed. I want them to come through an' tell what +they know." + +"How did you find that out?" + +The eyes of the oil broker were hard as jade. They looked straight +into those of his cousin. + +"I can't tell you that exactly. Put two an' two together." + +"You mean you _guess_ they were there. You don't _know_ it." + +A warm, friendly smile lit the brown face of the rough rider. He +wanted to remain on good terms with James if he could. "I don't know +it in a legal sense. Morally, I'm convinced of it." + +"Even though they deny it." + +"Practically they admitted rather than denied." + +"Do you think it was quite straight, Kirby, to go to Miss Harriman with +such a trumped-up charge? I don't. I confess I'm surprised at you." +In voice and expression James showed his disappointment. + +"It isn't a trumped-up charge. I wanted to know the truth from her." + +"Why didn't you go to Jack, then?"' + +"I didn't know at that time Jack was the man with her." + +"You don't know it now. You don't know she was there. In point of +fact the idea is ridiculous. You surely don't think for a moment that +she had anything to do with Uncle James's death." + +"No; not in the sense that she helped bring it about. But she knows +somethin' she's hidin'." + +"That's absurd. Your imagination is too active, Kirby." + +"Can't agree with you." Lane met him eye to eye. + +"Grant for the sake of argument that she was in Uncle's room that +night. Your friend Miss Rose McLean was there, too--by her own +confession. When she came to Jack and me with her story, we respected +it. We did not insist on knowing why she was there, and it was of her +own free will she told us. Yet you go to our friend and distress her +by implications that must shock and wound her. Was that generous? Was +it even fair?" + +The cattleman stood convicted at the bar of his own judgment. His +cousins had been magnanimous to Esther and Rose, more so than he had +been to Miss Harriman. Yet, even while he confessed fault, he felt +uneasily that there was a justification he could not quite lay hold of +and put into words. + +"I'm sorry you feel that way, James. Perhaps I was wrong. But you +want to remember that I wasn't askin' about what she knew with any idea +of makin' it public or tellin' the police. I meant to keep it under my +own hat to help run down a cold-blooded murderer." + +"You can't want to run him down any more than we do--and in that 'we' I +include Jack and Miss Harriman as well as myself," the older man +answered gravely. "But I'm sure you're entirely wrong. Miss Harriman +knows nothing about it. If she had she would have confided in us." + +"Perhaps she has confided in Jack." + +"Don't you think that obsession of yours is rather--well, unlikely, to +put it mildly? Analyze it and you'll find you haven't a single +substantial fact to base it on." + +This was true. Yet Kirby's opinion was not changed. He still believed +that Jack and Miss Harriman had been in his uncle's rooms just before +Wild Rose had been there. + +He returned to the subject of the bond. It seemed to him best, he +said, in view of Jack's feeling, to get other bondsmen. He hoped James +would not interpret this to mean that he felt less friendly toward him. + +His cousin bowed, rather formally. "Just as you please. Would you +like the matter arranged this afternoon?" + +Lane looked at his watch. "I haven't heard from my new bondsmen yet. +Besides, I want to go to Golden. Would to-morrow morning suit you?" + +"I dare say." James stifled a yawn. "Did you say you were going to +Golden?" + +"Yes. Some one gave me a tip. I don't know what there's in it, but I +thought I'd have a look at the marriage-license registry." + +Cunningham flashed a startled glance at him that asked a peremptory +question. "Probably waste of time. I've been in the oil business too +long to pay any attention to tips." + +"Expect you're right, but I'll trot out there, anyhow. Never can tell." + +"What do you expect to find among the marriage licenses?" + +"Haven't the slightest idea. I'll tell you tomorrow what I do find." + +James made one dry, ironic comment. "I rather think you have too much +imagination for sleuthing. You let your wild fancies gallop away with +you. If I were you I'd go back to bronco busting." + +Kirby laughed. "Dare say you're right. I'll take your advice after we +get the man we're after." + + + + +CHAPTER XXIV + +REVEREND NICODEMUS RANKIN FORGETS AND REMEMBERS + +By appointment Kirby met Rose at Graham & Osborne's for luncheon. She +was waiting in the tower room for him. + +"Where's Esther?" he asked. + +Rose mustered a faint smile. "She's eating lunch with a handsomer man." + +"You can't throw a stone up Sixteenth Street without hittin' one," he +answered gayly. + +They followed the head waitress to a small table for two by a window. +Rose walked with the buoyant rhythm of perfect health. Her friend +noticed, as he had often done before, that she had the grace of +movement which is a corollary to muscles under perfect response. +Seated across the table from her, he marveled once more at the miracle +of her soft skin and the peach bloom of her complexion. Many times she +had known the sting of sleet and the splash of sun on her face. Yet +incredibly her cheeks did not tan nor lose their fineness. + +"You haven't told me who this handsomer man is," Kirby suggested. + +"Cole Sanborn." She flushed a little, but looked straight at him. +"Have you told him--about Esther?" + +"No. But from somethin' he said I think he guesses." + +Her eyes softened. "He's awf'ly good to Esther. I can see he likes +her and she likes him. Why couldn't she have met him first? She's so +lovable." Tears brimmed to her eyes. "That's been her ruin. She was +ready to believe any man who said he cared for her. Even when she was +a little bit of a trick when people liked her, she was grateful to them +for it and kinda snuggled up to them. I never saw a more cuddly baby." + +"Have you found out anything more yet about--the man?" he asked, his +voice low and gentle. + +"No. It's queer how stubborn she can be for all her softness. But she +almost told me last night. I'll find out in a day or two now. Of +course it was your uncle. The note I found was really an admission of +guilt. Your cousins feel that some settlement ought to be made on +Esther out of the estate. I've been trying to decide what would be +fair. Will you think it over and let me know what seems right to you?" + +The waitress came, took their order, and departed. + +"I'm goin' out to Golden to-day on a queer wild-goose chase," Kirby +said. "A man gave me a hint. He didn't want to tell me the +information out an' out, whatever it is. I don't know why. What he +said was for me to go to Golden an' look over the list of marriage +licenses for the past month or two." + +Her eyes flashed an eager question at him. "You don't suppose--it +couldn't be that Esther was married to your uncle secretly and that she +promised not to tell." + +"I hadn't thought of that. It might be." His eyes narrowed in +concentration. "And if Jack an' Miss Harriman had just found it out, +that would explain why they called on Uncle James the night he was +killed. Do you want to go to Golden with me?" + +She nodded, eagerly. "Oh, I do, Kirby! I believe we'll find out +something there. Shall we go by the interurban?" + +"As soon as we're through lunch." + +They walked across along Arapahoe Street to the loop and took a Golden +car. It carried them by the viaduct over the Platte River and through +the North Side into the country. They rushed past truck farms and +apple orchards into the rolling fields beyond, where the crops had been +harvested and the land lay in the mellow bath of a summer sun. They +swung round Table Mountain into the little town huddled at the foot of +Lookout. + +From the terminus of the line they walked up the steep hill to the +court-house. An automobile, new and of an expensive make, was standing +by the curb. Just as Kirby and Rose reached the machine a young man +ran down the steps of the court-house and stepped into the car. The +man was Jack Cunningham. He took the driver's seat. Beside him was a +veiled young woman in a leather motoring-coat. In spite of the veil +Lane recognized her as Phyllis Harriman. + +Cunningham caught sight of his cousin and anger flushed his face. +Without a word he reached for the starter, threw in the clutch, and +gave the engine gas. + +The rough rider watched the car move down the hill. "I've made a +mistake," he told his companion. "I told James I was comin' here +to-day. He let Jack know, an' he's beat us to it." + +"What harm will that do?" asked Rose. "The information will be there +for us, too, won't it?" + +"Mebbe it will. Mebbe it won't. We'll soon find out." + +Rose caught her friend's arm as they were passing through the hall. +"Kirby, do you suppose your cousins really know Esther was married to +your uncle? Do you think they can be trying to keep it quiet so she +can't claim the estate?" + +He stopped in his stride. James had deprecated the idea of his coming +to Golden and had ridiculed the possibility of his unearthing any +information of value. Yet he must have called up Jack as soon as he +had left the office. And Jack had hurried to the town within the hour. +It might be that. Rose had hit on the reason for the hostility he felt +on the part of both cousins to his activities. There was something +they did not want brought to the light of day. What more potent reason +could there be for concealment than their desire to keep the fortune of +the millionaire in their own hands? + +"I shouldn't wonder if you haven't rung the bull's-eye, pardner," he +told her. "We ought to know right soon now." + +The clerk in the recorder's office smiled when Kirby said he wanted to +look through the license register. He swung the book round toward them. + +"Help yourself. What's the big idea? Another young fellow was in +lookin' at the licenses only a minute ago." + +The clerk moved over to another desk where he was typewriting. His +back was turned toward them. Kirby turned the pages of the book. He +and Rose looked them over together. They covered the record for three +months without finding anything of interest. Patiently they went over +the leaves again. + +Kirby stepped over to the clerk. "Do you happen to remember whether +you made out any license application for a man named Cunningham any +time in the past two months?" he asked. + +"For a marriage license?" + +"Yes." + +"Don't think I have. Can't remember the name. I was on my vacation +two weeks. Maybe it was then. Can't you find it in the book?" + +"No." + +"Know the date?" + +Kirby shook his head. + +The voice of Rose, high with excitement, came from across the room. +"Looky here." + +Her finger ran down the book, close to the binding. A page had been +cut out with a sharp penknife, so deftly that they had passed it twice +without noticing. + +"Who did that?" demanded the clerk angrily. + +"Probably the young man who was just in here. His name is Jack +Cunningham," Lane answered. + +"What in time did he want to do that for? If he wanted it why didn't +he take a copy? The boss'll give me Hail Columbia. That's what a +fellow gets for being accommodating." + +"He did it so that we wouldn't see it. Is there any other record kept +of the marriages?" + +"Sure there is. The preachers and the judges who perform marriages +have to turn back to us the certificate within thirty days and we make +a record of it." + +"Can I see that book?" + +"I'll do the lookin'," the clerk said shortly. "Whose marriage is it? +And what date?" + +Lane gave such information as he could. The clerk mellowed when Rose +told him it was very important to her, as officials have a way of doing +when charming young women smile at them. But he found no record of any +marriage of which they knew either of the contracting parties. + +"Once in a while some preacher forgets to turn in his certificate," the +clerk said as he closed the book. "Old Rankin is the worst that way. +He forgets. You might look him up." + +Kirby slipped the clerk a dollar and turned away. Rankin was a forlorn +hope, but he and Rose walked out to a little house in the suburbs where +the preacher lived. + +He was a friendly, white-haired old gentleman, and he made them very +much at home under the impression they had come to get married. A +slight deafness was in part responsible for this mistake. + +"May I see the license?" he asked after Kirby had introduced himself +and Rose. + +For a moment the cattleman was puzzled. His eye went to Rose, seeking +information. A wave of color was sweeping into her soft cheeks. Then +Lane knew why, and the hot blood mounted into his own. His gaze +hurriedly and in embarrassment fled from Miss McLean's face. + +"You don't quite understand," he explained to the Reverend Nicodemus +Rankin. "We've come only to--to inquire about some one you married--or +rather to find out if you did marry him. His name is Cunningham. We +have reason to think he was married a month or two ago. But we're not +sure." + +The old man stroked his silken white hair. At times his mind was a +little hazy. There were moments when a slight fog seemed to descend +upon it. His memory in recent years had been quite treacherous. Not +long since he had forgotten to attend a funeral at which he was to +conduct the services. + +"I dare say I did marry your friend. A good many young people come to +me. The license clerk at the court is very kind. He sends them here." + +"The man's name was Cunningham--James Cunningham," Kirby prompted. + +"Cunningham--Cunningham! Seems to me I did marry a man by that name. +Come to think of it I'm sure I did. To a beautiful young woman," the +old preacher said. + +"Do you recall her name? I mean her maiden name," Rose said, +excitement drumming in her veins. + +"No-o. I don't seem quite to remember it. But she was a charming +young woman--very attractive, I might say. My wife and daughter +mentioned it afterward." + +"May I ask if Mrs. Rankin and your daughter are at present in the +house?" asked Lane. + +"Unfortunately, no. They have gone to spend a few days visiting in +Idaho Springs. If they were here they could reenforce any gaps in my +memory, which is not all it once was." The Reverend Nicodemus smiled +apologetically. + +"Was her name Esther McLean?" asked Rose eagerly. + +The old parson brought his mind back to the subject with a visible +effort. "Oh, yes! The young lady who was married to your friend--" +He paused, at a loss for the name. + +"--Cunningham," Kirby supplied. + +"Quite so--Cunningham. Well, it might have been McLeod. I--I rather +think it did sound like that." + +"McLean. Miss Esther McLean," corrected the cattleman patiently. + +"The fact is I'm not sure about the young lady's name. Mother and +Ellen would know. I'm sorry they're not here. They talked afterward +about how pleasant the young lady was." + +"Was she fair or dark?" + +The old preacher smiled at Rose benevolently. "I really don't know. +I'm afraid, my dear young woman, that I'm a very unreliable witness." + +"You don't recollect any details. For instance, how did they come and +did they bring witnesses with them?" + +"Yes. I was working in the garden--weeding the strawberry-patch, I +think. They came in an automobile alone. Wife and daughter were the +witnesses." + +"Do you know when Mrs. Rankin and your daughter will be home?" + +"By next Tuesday, at the latest. Perhaps you can call again. I trust +there was nothing irregular about the marriage." + +"Not so far as we know. We were anxious about the young lady. She is +a friend of ours," Kirby said. "By the way, the certificate of the +marriage is not on record at the court-house. Are you sure you +returned it to the clerk?" + +"Bless my soul, did I forget that again?" exclaimed the Reverend +Nicodemus. "I'll have my daughter look for the paper as soon as she +returns." + +"You couldn't find it now, I suppose," Lane suggested. + +The old gentleman searched rather helplessly among the papers +overflowing his desk. He did not succeed in finding what he looked for. + +Kirby and Rose walked back to the court-house. They had omitted to +arrange with the license clerk to forward a copy of the marriage +certificate when it was filed. + +The rough rider left the required fee with the clerk and a bank note to +keep his memory jogged up. + +"Soon as Mrs. Rankin comes home, will you call her up and remind her +about lookin' for the certificate?" he asked. + +"Sure I will. I've got to have it, anyhow, for the records. And say, +what's the name of that fresh guy who came in here and cut the page +from the register? I'm going after him right, believe you me." + +Kirby gave his cousin's name and address. He had no animosity whatever +toward him, but he thought it just as well to keep Jack's mind occupied +with troubles of his own during the next few days. Very likely then he +would not get in his way so much. + +They were no sooner clear of the court-house than Rose burst out with +what was in her mind. + +"It's just as I thought. Your uncle married Esther and got her to keep +quiet about the marriage for some reason. Your cousins are trying to +destroy the evidence so that the estate won't all go to her. I'll bet +we get an offer of a compromise right away." + +"Mebbe." Kirby's mind was not quite satisfied. Somehow, this affair +did not seem to fit in with what he knew of his uncle. Cunningham had +been always bold and audacious in his actions, a law to himself. Yet +if he were going to marry the stenographer he had wronged, he might do +it secretly to conceal the date on account of the unborn child. + +The eyes of Rose gleamed with determination. Her jaw set. "I'm gonna +get the whole story out of Esther soon as I get back to town," she said +doggedly. + +But she did not--nor for many days after. + + + + +CHAPTER XXV + +A CONFERENCE OF THREE + +Kirby heard his name being paged as he entered his hotel. + +"Wanted at the telephone, sir," the bell-hop told him. + +He stepped into a booth and the voice of Rose came excited and +tremulous. It was less than ten minutes since he had left her at the +door of her boarding-house. + +"Something's happened, Kirby. Can you come here--right away?" she +begged. Then, unable to keep back any longer the cry of her heart, she +broke out with her tidings. "Esther's gone." + +"Gone where?" he asked. + +"I don't know. She left a letter for me. If you'll come to the +house--Or shall I meet you downtown?" + +"I'll come. Be there in five minutes." + +He more than kept his word. Catching a car on the run at the nearest +corner, he dropped from it as it crossed Broadway and walked to +Cherokee. + +Rose opened the house door when he rang the bell and drew him into the +parlor. With a catch of the breath she blurted out again the news. + +"She was gone when I got home. I found--this letter." Her eyes sought +his for comfort. He read what Esther had written. + + +I can't stand it any longer, dearest. I'm going away where I won't +disgrace you. Don't look for me. I'll be taken care of +till--afterward. + +And, oh, Rose, don't hate me, darling. Even if I am wicked, love me. +And try some time to forgive your little sister. + +ESTHER + + +"Did anybody see her go?" Lane asked. + +"I don't know. I haven't talked with anybody but the landlady. She +hasn't seen Esther this afternoon, she said. I didn't let on I was +worried." + +"What does she mean that she'll be taken care of till afterward? +Who'll take care of her?" + +"I don't know." + +"Have you any idea where she would be likely to go--whether there is +any friend who might have offered her a temporary home?" + +"No." Rose considered. "She wouldn't go to any old friend. You see +she's--awf'ly sensitive. And she'd have to explain. Besides, I'd find +out she was there." + +"That's true." + +"I ought never to have left her last spring. I should have found work +here and not gone gallumpin' all over the country." Her chin trembled. +She was on the verge of tears. + +"Nonsense. You can't blame yourself. We each have to live our own +life. How could you tell what was comin'? Betcha we find her right +away. Mebbe she let out somethin' to Cole. She doesn't look to me +like a girl who could play out a stiff hand alone." + +"She isn't. She's dependent--always has leaned on some one." Rose had +regained control of herself quickly. She stood straight and lissom, +mistress of her emotions, but her clear cheeks were colorless. "I'm +worried, Kirby, dreadfully. Esther hasn't the pluck to go through +alone. She--she might--" + +No need to finish the sentence. Her friend understood. + +His strong hand went out and closed on hers. "Don't you worry, +pardner. It'll be all right. We'll find her an' take her somewhere +into the country where folks don't know." + +Faintly she smiled. "You're such a comfort." + +"Sho! We'll get busy right away. Denver ain't such a big town that we +can't find one li'l' girl _muy pronto_." His voice was steady and +cheerful, almost light. "First off, we'll check up an' see if any one +saw her go. What did she take with her?" + +"One suitcase." + +"How much money? Can you make a guess?" + +"She had only a dollar or two in her purse. She had money in the bank. +I'll find out if she drew any." + +"Lemme do that. I'll find Cole, too. You make some inquiries round +the house here, kinda easy-like. Meet you here at six o'clock. Or +mebbe we'd better meet downtown. Say at the Boston Chop House." + +Cole was with Kirby when he met Rose at the restaurant. + +"We'll go in an' get somethin' to eat," Lane said. "We'll talk while +we're waitin'. That way we'll not lose any time." + +They found a booth and Kirby ordered the dinner. As soon as the waiter +had gone he talked business. + +"Find out anything, Rose?" + +"Yes. A girl at the house who works for the telephone company saw +Esther get into an automobile a block and a half from the house. A man +helped her in. I pretended to laugh and asked her what sort of a +lookin' man he was. She said he was a live one, well-dressed and +handsome. The car was a limousine." + +"Good. Fits in with what I found out," Kirby said. "The bank was +closed, but I got in the back door by pounding at it. The teller at +the K-R window was still there, working at his accounts. Esther did +not draw any money to-day or yesterday." + +"Why do you say good?" Cole wanted to know. "Is it good for our li'l' +friend to be in the power of this good-lookin' guy with the big car, +an' her without a bean of her own? I don't get it. Who is the man? +Howcome she to go with him? She sure had no notion of goin' when we +was eatin' together an hour before." + +"I don't see who he could be. She never spoke of such a man to me," +Rose murmured, greatly troubled. + +"I don't reckon she was very well acquainted with him," Lane said, +shaking out his napkin. + +The talk was suspended while he ladled the soup into the plates and the +waiter served them. Not till the man's back was turned did Rose fling +out her hot challenge to Kirby. + +"Why would she go with a man she didn't know very well? Where would +she be going with him?" The flame in her cheeks, the stab of her eyes, +dared him to think lightly of her sister. It was in her temperament to +face all slights with high spirit. + +His smile reassured. "Mebbe she didn't know where she was goin'. That +was his business. Let's work this out from the beginnin'." + +Kirby passed Rose the crackers. She rejected them with a little +gesture of impatience. + +"I don't want to eat. I'm not hungry." + +Lane's kind eyes met hers steadily. "But you must eat. You'll be of +no help if you don't keep up your strength." + +Rather than fight it out, she gave up. + +"We know right off the reel Esther didn't plan this," he continued. +"Before we knew the man was in it you felt it wasn't like her to run +away alone, Rose. Didn't you?" + +"Yes." + +"She hadn't drawn any money from her account, So she wasn't makin' any +plans to go. The man worked it out an' then persuaded Esther. It's no +surprise to me to find a Mr. Man in this thing. I'd begun to guess it +before you told me. The question is, what man." + +The girl's eyes jumped to his. She began to see what he was working +toward. Cole, entirely in the dark, stirred uneasily. His mind was +still busy with a possible love tangle. + +"What man or men would benefit most if Esther disappeared for a time? +We know of two it might help," the man from Twin Buttes went on. + +"Your cousins!" she cried, almost in a whisper. + +"Yes, if we've guessed rightly that Esther was married to Uncle James. +That would make her his heir. With her in their hands and away from +us, they would be in a position to drive a better bargain. They know +that we're hot on the trail of the marriage. If they're kind to +her--and no doubt they will be--they can get anything they want from +her in the way of an agreement as to the property. Looks to me like +the fine Italian hand of Cousin James. We know Jack wasn't the man. +He was busy at Golden right then. Kinda leaves James in the spotlight, +doesn't it?" + +Rose drew a long, deep breath. "I'm so glad! I was afraid--thought +maybe she would do something desperate. But if she's being looked +after it's a lot better. We'll soon have her back. Until then they'll +be good to her, won't they?" + +"They'll treat her like a queen. Don't you see? That's their game. +They don't want a lawsuit. They're playin' for a compromise." + +Kirby leaned back and smiled expansively on his audience of two. He +began to fancy himself tremendously as a detective. + + + + +CHAPTER XXVI + +CUTTING TRAIL + +Kirby's efforts to find James Cunningham after dinner were not +successful. He was not at his rooms, at the Country Club, or at his +office. Nor was he at a dinner dance where he was among the invited +guests, a bit of information Rose had gathered from the society columns +of the previous Sunday's "News." His cousin reached him at last next +morning by means of his business telephone. An appointment was +arranged in five sentences. + +If James felt any surprise at the delegation of three which filed in to +see him he gave no sign of it. He bowed, sent for more chairs from the +outer office, and seated his visitors, all with a dry, close smile +hovering on the edge of irony. + +Kirby cut short preliminaries. "You know why we're here and what we +want," he said abruptly. + +"I confess I don't, unless to report on your trip to Golden," James +countered suavely. "Was it successful, may I ask?" + +"If it wasn't, you know why it wasn't." + +The eyes of the two men met. Neither of them dodged in the least or +gave to the rigor of the other's gaze. + +"Referring to Jack's expedition, I presume." + +"You don't deny it, then." + +"My dear Kirby, I never waste breath in useless denials. You saw Jack. +Therefore he must have been there." + +"He was. He brought away with him a page cut from the marriage-license +registry." + +James lifted a hand of protest. "Ah! There we come to the parting of +the ways. I can't concede that." + +"No, but you know it's true," said Kirby bluntly. + +"Not at all. He surely would not mutilate a public record." + +"We needn't go into that. He did. But that didn't keep us from +getting the information we wanted." + +"No?" James murmured the monosyllable with polite indifference. But +he watched, lynx-eyed, the strong, brown face of his cousin. + +"We know now the secret you wanted to keep hidden in the court-house at +Golden." + +"I grant you energy in ferreting out other people's business, dear +cousin. If you 're always so--so altruistic, let us say--I wonder how +you have time to devote to your own affairs." + +"We intend to see justice done Miss Esther McLean--Mrs. James +Cunningham, I should say. You can't move us from that intention or--" + +The expression on the oil broker's face was either astonishment or the +best counterfeit of it Kirby had ever seen. + +"I beg pardon. _What_ did you say?" + +"I told you, what you already know, that Esther McLean was married to +Uncle James at Golden on the twenty-first of last month." + +"Miss McLean and Uncle James married--at Golden--on the twenty-first of +last month? Are you sure?" + +"Aren't you? What did you think we found out?" + +Cunningham's eyes narrowed. A film of caution spread over them. "Oh, +I don't know. You're so enterprising you might discover almost +anything. It's really a pity with your imagination that you don't go +into fiction." + +"Or oil promotin'," suggested Cole with a grin. "Or is that the same +thing?" + +"Let's table our cards, James," his cousin said. "You know now why +we're here." + +"On the contrary, I'm more in the dark than ever." + +Kirby was never given to useless movements of his limbs or body. He +had the gift of repose, of wonderful poise. Now not even his eyelashes +flickered. + +"We want to know what you've done with Esther McLean." + +"But, my dear fellow, why should I do anything with her?" + +"You know why as well as I do. Somehow you've persuaded her to go +somewhere and hide herself. You want her in your power, to force or +cajole her into a compromise of her right to Uncle James's estate. We +won't have it." + +A satiric smile touched the face of Cunningham without warming it, +"That active imagination of yours again. You _do_ let it run away with +you." + +"You were seen getting into a car with Miss McLean." + +"Did she step in of her own free will?" + +"We don't claim an abduction." + +"On your own statement of the case, then, you have no ground of +complaint whatever." + +"Do you refuse to tell us where she is?" Kirby asked. + +"I refuse to admit that I know where the young lady is." + +"We'll find her. Don't make any mistake about that." + +Kirby rose. The interview was at an end. Cole Sanborn strode forward. +He leaned over the desk toward the oil broker, his blue eyes drilling +into those of the broker. + +"We sure will, an' if you've hurt our li'l' friend--if she's got any +grievance against you an' the way you treat her--I'll certainly wreck +you proper, Mr. Cunningham." + +James flushed angrily. "Get out of here--all of you! Or I'll send for +the police and have you swept out. I'm fed up on your interference." + +"Is it interference for Miss McLean here to want to know where her +sister is?" asked Kirby quietly. + +"Why should you all assume I know?" + +"Because the evidence points to you." + +"Absurd. You come down here from Wyoming and do nothing but make +trouble for me and Jack even though we try to stand your friend. I've +had about enough of you." + +"Sorry you look at it that way." Kirby's smile was friendly. It was +even wistful. "I appreciate what you did for me, but I've got to go +through with what I've started. I can't quit on the job because I'm +under an obligation to you. By the way, I've arranged the matter of +the bond. We're to take it up at the district attorney's office at +eleven this morning." + +"Glad to hear it. I want to be quit of you," snapped Cunningham tartly. + +Outside, Kirby gave directions to his lieutenants. "It's up to you two +to dig up some facts. I'm gonna be busy all mornin' with this bond +business so's I can keep outa jail. Rose, you go up to the Secretary +of State's office and find the number of the license of my cousin's car +and the kind of machine it is. Then you'd better come back an' take a +look at all the cars parked within three or four blocks of here. He +may have driven it down when he came to work this mornin'. Look at the +speedometer an' see what the mileage record is of the last trip taken. +Cole, you go to this address. That's where my cousin lives. Find out +at what garage he keeps his car. If they don't know, go to all the +garages within several blocks of the place. See if it's a closed car. +Get the make an' the number an' the last trip mileage. Meet me here at +twelve o'clock, say. Both of you." + +"Suits me," said Cole. "But wise me up. What's the idea in the +mileage?" + +"Just this. James was outa town last night probably. We couldn't find +him anywhere. My notion is that he's taken Esther somewhere into the +mountains. If we can get the mileage of the last trip, all we have to +do is to divide it by two to know how far away Esther is. Then we'll +draw a circle round Denver at that distance an'--" + +Cole slapped his thigh with his hat. "Bully! You're sure the +white-haired lad in this deteckative game." + +"Maybe he didn't set the speedometer for the trip," suggested Rose. + +"Possible. Then again more likely he did. James is a methodical chap. +Another thing, while you're at the private hotel where he lives, Cole. +Find out if you can where James goes when he fishes or drives into the +mountains. Perhaps he's got a cottage of his own or some favorite +spot." + +"I'm on my way, old-timer!" Cole announced with enthusiasm. + +At luncheon the committee reported progress. Cole had seen James +Cunningham's car. It was a sedan. He had had it out of the garage all +afternoon and evening and had brought it back just before midnight. +The trip record on the speedometer registered ninety-two miles. + +From his pocket Kirby drew an automobile map and a pencil. He notched +on the pencil a mark to represent forty-six miles from the point, based +on the scale of miles shown at the foot of the map. With the pencil as +a radius he drew a semicircle from Denver as the center. The curved +line passed through Loveland, Long's Peak, and across the Snow Range to +Tabernash. It included Georgetown, Gray's Peak, Mount Evans, and +Cassell's. From there it swept on to Palmer Lake. + +"I'm not includin' the plains country to the east," Kirby explained. +"You'll have enough territory to cover as it is, Cole. By the way, did +you find anything about where James goes into the hills?" + +"No." + +"Well, we'll make some more inquiries. Perhaps the best thing for you +to do would be to go out to the small towns around Denver an' find out +if any of the garage people noticed a car of that description passin' +through. That would help a lot. It would give us a line on whether he +went up Bear Canon, Platte Canon, into Northern Colorado, or south +toward the Palmer Lake country." + +"You've allowed forty-six miles by an air line," Rose pointed out. "He +couldn't have gone as far as Long's Peak or Evans--nowhere nearly as +far, because the roads are so winding when you get in the hills. He +could hardly have reached Estes Park." + +"Right. You'll have to check up the road distances from Denver, Cole. +Your job's like lookin' for a needle in a haystack. I'll put a +detective agency on James. He might take a notion to run out to the +cache any fine evenin'. He likely will, to make sure Esther is +contented." + +"Or he'll send Jack," Rose added. + +"We'll try to keep an eye on him, too." + +"This is my job, is it?" Cole asked, rising. + +"You an' Rose can work together on it. My job's here in town on the +murder mystery." + +"If we work both of them out---finding Esther and proving who killed +your uncle--I think we'll learn that it's all the same mystery, +anyhow," Rose said, drawing on her gloves. + +Cole nodded sagely. "You've said somethin', Rose." + +"Say _when_, not _if_, we work 'em out. We'll be cuttin' hot trail +_poco tempo_," Kirby prophesied, smiling up at them. + + + + +CHAPTER XXVII + +THE DETECTIVE GETS TWO SURPRISES + +Kirby stared down at the document in front of him. He could scarcely +believe the evidence flashed by his eyes to his brain. It was the +document he had asked the county recorder at Golden to send him--and it +certified that, on July 21, _James Cunningham and Phyllis Harriman had +been united in marriage_ at Golden by the Reverend Nicodemus Rankin. + +This knocked the props from under the whole theory he had built up to +account for the disappearance of Esther McLean. If Esther were not the +widow of his uncle, then the motive of James in helping her to vanish +was not apparent. Perhaps he told the truth and knew nothing about the +affair whatever. + +But Kirby was puzzled. Why had his uncle, who was openly engaged to +Phyllis Harriman, married her surreptitiously and kept that marriage a +secret? It was not in character, and he could see no reason for it. +Foster had sent him to Golden on the tacit hint that there was some +clue in the license register to the mystery of James Cunningham's +death. What bearing had this marriage on it, if any? + +It explained, of course, the visit of Miss Harriman to his uncle's +apartments on the night he was murdered. She had an entire right to go +there at any time, and if they were keeping their relation a secret +would naturally go at night when she could slip in unobserved. + +But Kirby's mind wandered up and down blind alleys. The discovery of +this secret seemed only to make the tangle more difficult. + +He had a hunch that there was a clue at Golden he had somehow missed, +and that feeling took him back there within three hours of the receipt +of the certificate. + +The clerk in the recorder's office could tell him nothing new except +that he had called up Mrs. Rankin by telephone and she had brought up +the delayed certificate at once. Kirby lost no time among the records. +He walked to the Rankin house and introduced himself to an old lady +sunning herself on the porch. She was a plump, brisk little person +with snapping eyes younger than her years. + +"I'm sorry I wasn't at home when you called. Can I help you now?" she +asked. + +"I don't know. James Cunningham was my uncle. We thought he had +married a girl who is a sister of the friend with me the day I called. +But it seems we were mistaken. He married Phyllis Harriman, the young +woman to whom he was engaged." + +Mrs. Rankin smiled, the placid, motherly smile of experience. "I've +noticed that men sometimes do marry the girls to whom they are engaged." + +"Yes, but--" Kirby broke off and tried another tack. "How old was the +lady? And was she dark or fair?" + +"Miss Harriman? I should think she may be twenty-five. She is dark, +slender, and beautifully dressed. Rather an--an expensive sort of +young lady, perhaps." + +"Did she act as though she were much--well, in love with--Mr. +Cunningham?" + +The bright eyes twinkled. "She's not a young woman who wears her heart +on her sleeve, I judge. I can't answer that question. My opinion is +that he was very much in love with her. Why do you ask?" + +"You have read about his death since, of course," he said. + +"Is he dead? No, I didn't know it." The birdlike eyes opened wider. +"That's strange too." + +"It's on account of the mystery of his death that I'm troubling you, +Mrs. Rankin. We want it cleared up, of course." + +"But--two James Cunninghams haven't died mysteriously, have they?" she +asked. "The nephew isn't killed, too, is he?" + +"Oh, no. Just my uncle." + +"Then we're mixed up somewhere. How old was your uncle?" + +"He was past fifty-six--just past." + +"That's not the man my husband married." + +"Not the man! Oh, aren't you mistaken, Mrs. Rankin? My uncle was +strong and rugged. He did not look his age." + +The old lady got up swiftly. "Please excuse me a minute." She moved +with extraordinary agility into the house. It was scarcely a minute +before she was with him again, a newspaper in her hand. In connection +with the Cunningham murder mystery several pictures were shown. Among +them were photographs of his uncle and two cousins. + +"This is the man whose marriage to Miss Harriman I witnessed," she said. + +Her finger was pointing to the likeness of his cousin James Cunningham. + + + + +CHAPTER XXVIII + +THE FINGER OF SUSPICION POINTS + +The words of the preacher's little wife were like a bolt from a sunny +heaven. Kirby could not accept them without reiteration. Never in the +wildest dreams of the too vivid imagination of which his cousin had +accused him had this possibility occurred to him. + +"Do you mean that this man--the younger one--is the husband of Phyllis +Harriman?" His finger touched the reproduction of his cousin's +photograph. + +"Yes. He's the man my husband married her to on the twenty-first of +July." + +"You're quite sure of that?" + +"I ought to be," she answered rather dryly. "I was a witness." + +A young woman came up the walk from the street. She was a younger and +more modern replica of Mrs. Rankin. The older lady introduced her. + +"Daughter, this is Mr. Lane, the gentleman who called on Father the +other day while we were away. Mr. Lane, my daughter Ellen." Briskly +she continued, showing her daughter the picture of James Cunningham, +Junior. "Did you ever see this man, dear?" + +Ellen took one glance at it. "He's the man Father married the other +day." + +"When?" the mother asked. + +"It was--let me see--about the last week in July. Why?" + +"Married to who?" asked Mrs. Rankin colloquially. + +"To that lovely Miss Harriman, of course." + +The old lady wheeled on Kirby triumphantly. "Are you satisfied now +that I'm in my right mind?" she demanded smilingly. + +"Have to ask your pardon if I was rude," he said, meeting her smile. +"But the fact is it was such a surprise I couldn't take it in." + +"This gentleman is the nephew of the Mr. Cunningham who was killed. He +thought it was his uncle who had married Miss Harriman," the mother +explained to Ellen. + +The girl turned to Kirby. "You know I've wondered about that myself. +The society columns of the papers said it was the older Mr. Cunningham +that was going to marry her. And I've seen, since your uncle's death, +notices in the paper about his engagement to Miss Harriman. But I +thought it must have been a mistake, since it was the younger Mr. +Cunningham she did marry. Maybe the reporters got the two mixed. They +do sometimes get things wrong in the papers, you know." + +This explanation was plausible, but Kirby happened to have inside +information. He remembered the lovely photograph of the young woman in +his uncle's rooms and the "Always, Phyllis" written across the lower +part of it. He recalled the evasive comments of both James and his +brother whenever any reference had been made to the relation between +Miss Harriman and their uncle. No, Phyllis Harriman had been engaged +to marry James Cunningham, Senior. He was sure enough of that. In +point of fact he had seen at the district attorney's office a letter +written by her to the older man, a letter which acknowledged that they +were to be married in October. It had been one of a dozen papers +turned over to the prosecutor's office for examination. Then she had +jilted the land promoter for his nephew. + +Did his uncle know of the marriage of his nephew? That was something +Kirby meant to find out if he could. The news he had just heard lit up +avenues of thought as a searchlight throws a shaft into the darkness. +It brought a new factor into the problem at which he was working. +Roughly speaking, the cattleman knew his uncle, the habits of mind that +guided him, the savage and relentless passions that swayed him. If the +old man knew his favorite nephew and his fiancee had made a mock of +him, he would move swiftly to a revenge that would hurt. The first +impulse of his mind would be to strike James from his will. + +And even if his uncle had not yet discovered the secret marriage, he +would soon have done so. It could not have been much longer concealed. +This thing was as sure as any contingency in human life can be: _if +Cunningham had lived, his nephew James would never have inherited a +cent of his millions. The older man had died in the nick of time for +James_. + +Already Kirby had heard a hint to this effect. It had been at a +restaurant much affected by the business men of the city during the +lunch hour. Two men had been passing his table on their way out. One, +lowering his voice, had said to the other: "James Cunningham ought to +give a medal to the fellow that shot his uncle. Didn't come a day too +soon for him. Between you and me, J. C. has been speculating heavy and +has been hit hard. He was about due to throw up the sponge. Luck for +him, I'll say." + +It was on the way back from Golden, while he was being rushed through +the golden fields of summer, that suspicion of his cousin hit Kirby +like a blow in the face. Facts began to marshal themselves in his +mind, an irresistible phalanx of them. James was the only man, except +his brother, who benefited greatly by the death of his uncle. Not only +was this true; the land promoter had to die _soon_ to help James, just +how soon Kirby meant to find out. Phyllis and a companion had been in +the victim's apartment either at the time of his death or immediately +afterward. That companion _might have been James and not Jack_. James +had lost the sheets with the writing left by the Japanese valet +Horikawa. The rage he had vented on his clerk might easily have been a +blind. When James knew he was going to Golden to look up the marriage +register, he had at once tried to forestall him by destroying the +information. + +Kirby tried to fight off his suspicions. He wanted to believe in his +cousin. In his own way he had been kind to him. He had gone on his +bond to keep him out of prison after he had tried to conceal the fact +of his existence at the coroner's inquest. But doubts began to gnaw at +the Wyoming man's confidence in him. Had James befriended him merely +to be in a position to keep closer tab on anything he discovered? Had +he wanted to be close enough to throw him off the track with the wrong +suggestions? + +The young cattleman was ashamed of himself for his doubts. But he +could not down them. His discovery of the marriage changed the +situation. It put his cousin James definitely into the list of the +suspects. + +As soon as he reached town he called at the law offices of Irwin, +Foster & Warren. The member of the firm he wanted to see was in. + +"I've been to Golden, Mr. Foster," he said, when he was alone with that +gentleman. "Now I want to ask you a question." + +The lawyer looked at him, smiling warily. Both of the James +Cunninghams had been clients of his. + +"I make my living giving legal advice," he said. + +"I don't want legal advice just now," Kirby answered. "I want to ask +you if you know whether my uncle knew that James and Miss Harriman were +married." + +Foster looked out of the window and drummed with his finger-tips on the +desk. "Yes," he said at last. + +"He knew?" + +"Yes." + +"Do you know when he found out?" + +"I can answer that, too. He found out on the evening of the +twenty-first--two days before his death. I told him--after dinner at +the City Club." + +"You had just found it out yourself?" + +"That afternoon." + +"How did you decide that the James Cunningham mentioned in the license +you saw was the younger one?" + +"By the age given." + +"How did my uncle take the news when you told him?" + +"He took it standing," the lawyer said. "Didn't make any fuss, but +looked like the Day of Judgment for the man who had betrayed him." + +"What did he do?" + +"Wrote a note and called for a messenger to deliver it." + +"Who to?" Kirby asked colloquially. + +"I don't know. Probably the company has a record of all calls. If so, +you can find the boy who delivered the message." + +"I'll get busy right away." + +Foster hesitated, then volunteered another piece of information. "I +don't suppose you know that your uncle sent for me next day and told me +to draft a new will for him and get it ready for his signature." + +"Did you do it?" + +"Yes. I handed it to him the afternoon of the day he was killed. It +was found unsigned among his papers after his death. The old will +still stands." + +"Leaving the property to James and Jack?" + +"Yes." + +"And the new will?" + +"Except for some bequests and ten thousand for a fountain at the city +park, the whole fortune was to go to Jack." + +"So that if he had lived twenty-four hours longer James would have been +disinherited." + +Foster looked at him out of eyes that told nothing of what he was +thinking. "That's the situation exactly." + +Kirby made no further comment, nor did the lawyer. + +Within two hours the man from Twin Buttes had talked with the messenger +boy, refreshed his memory with a tip, and learned that the message +Cunningham had sent from the City Club had been addressed to his nephew +Jack. + + + + +CHAPTER XXIX + +"COME CLEAN, JACK" + +Jack Cunningham, co-heir with James of his uncle's estate, was busy in +the office he had inherited settling up one of the hundred details that +had been left at loose ends by the promoter's sudden death. He looked +up at the entrance of Lane. + +"What do you want?" he asked sharply. + +"Want a talk with you." + +"Well, I don't care to talk with you. What are you doing here anyhow. +I told the boy to tell you I was too busy to see you." + +"That's what he said." Kirby opened his slow, whimsical smile on Jack. +"But I'm right busy, too. So I brushed him aside an' walked in." + +In dealing with this forceful cousin of his, Jack had long since lost +his indolent insolence of manner. "You can walk out again, then. I'll +not talk," he snapped. + +Kirby drew up a chair and seated himself. "When Uncle James sent a +messenger for you to come to his rooms at once on the evening of the +twenty-first, what did he want to tell you?" The steady eyes of the +cattleman bored straight into those of Cunningham. + +"Who said he sent a messenger for me?" + +"It doesn't matter who just now. There are two witnesses. What did he +want?" + +"That's my business." + +"So you say. I'm beginnin' to wonder if it isn't the business of the +State of Colorado, too." + +"What do you mean?" + +"I mean that Uncle sent for you because he had just found out your +brother and Miss Harriman were married." + +Jack flashed a startled look at him. It seemed to him his cousin +showed an uncanny knowledge at times. "You think so." + +"He wanted to tell you that he was goin' to cut your brother out of his +will an' leave you sole heir. An' he wanted you to let James know it +right away." + +Kirby was guessing, but he judged he had scored. Jack got up and began +to pace the room. He was plainly agitated. + +"Look here. Why don't you go back to Wyoming and mind your own +business? You're not in this. It's none of your affair. What are you +staying here for hounding the life out of James and me?" + +"None of my business! That's good, Jack. An' me out on bond charged +with the murder of Uncle James. I'd say it was quite some of my +business. I'm gonna stick to the job. Make up your mind to that." + +"Then leave us alone," retorted Jack irritably. "You act as though you +thought we were a pair of murderers." + +"If you have nothin' to conceal, why do you block anyway? Why aren't +you frank an' open? Why did you steal that record at Golden? Why did +James lose the Jap's confession--if it was a confession? Why did he +get Miss McLean to disappear? Answer those questions to my +satisfaction before you talk about me buttin' in with suspicions +against you." + +Jack slammed a fist down on the corner of the desk. "I'm not going to +answer any questions! I'll say you've got a nerve! You're the man +charged with this crime--the man that's liable to be tried for it. +You've got a rope round your neck right this minute--and you go around +high and mighty trying to throw suspicion on men that there's no +evidence against." + +"You said you had a quarrel with your uncle that night--no, I believe +you called it a difference of opinion, at the inquest. What was that +disagreement about?" + +"Find out! I'll never tell you." + +"Was it because you tried to defend James to him--tried to get him to +forgive the treachery of his fiancee and his nephew?" + +Again Jack shot at him a look of perplexed and baffled wonder. That +brown, indomitable face, back of which was so much strength of purpose +and so much keenness of apprehension, began to fill him with alarm. +This man let no obstacles stop him. He would go on till he had +uncovered the whole tangle they were trying to keep hidden. + +"For God's sake, man, stop this snooping around! You'll get off. +We'll back you. There's nowhere nearly enough evidence to convict you. +Let it go at that," implored Jack. + +"I can't do that. I've got to clear my name. Do you think I'm willin' +to go back to my friends with a Scotch verdict hangin' over me? 'He +did it, but we haven't evidence enough to prove it.' Come clean, Jack! +Are you and James in this thing? Is that why you want me to drop my +investigations?" + +"No, of course we're not! But--damn it, do you think we want the name +of my brother's wife dragged through the mud?" + +"Why should it be dragged through the mud--if you're all innocent?" + +"Because gossips cackle--and people never forget. If there was some +evidence against her and against James--no matter how little--twenty +years from now people would still whisper that they had killed his +uncle for the fortune, though it couldn't be proved. You know that." + +"Just as they're goin' to whisper about Rose McLean if I don't clear +things up. No, Jack. You've got the wrong idea. What we want to do +is for us all to jump in an' find the man who did it. Then all gossip +against us stops." + +"That's easy to say. How're you going to find the guilty man?" asked +Jack sulkily. + +"If you'd tell what you know we'd find him fast enough. How can I get +to the bottom of the thing when you an' James won't give me the facts?" + +Jack looked across at him doggedly. "I've told all I'm going to tell." + +The long, lithe body of the man from the Wyoming hills leaned forward +ever so slightly. "Don't you think it! Don't you think it for a +minute! You'll come clean whether you want to or not--or I'll put that +rope you mentioned round your brother's throat." + +Jack looked at this man with the nerves of chilled steel and shivered. +What could he do against a single-track mind with such driving force +back of it? Had Kirby got anything of importance on James? Or was he +bluffing? + +"Talk 's cheap," he sneered uneasily. + +"You'll find how cheap it is. James had been speculatin'. He was down +an' out. Another week, an' he'd have been a bankrupt. Uncle discovers +how he's been tricked by him an' Miss Harriman. He serves notice that +he's cuttin' James out of his will an' he sends for a lawyer to draw up +a new one. James an' his wife go to the old man's rooms to beg off. +There's a quarrel, maybe. Anyhow, this point sticks up like a sore +thumb: if uncle hadn't died that night your brother would 'a' been a +beggar. Now he's a millionaire. And James was in his room the very +hour in which he was killed." + +"You can't prove that!" Jack cried, his voice low and hoarse. "How do +you know he was there? What evidence have you?" + +Kirby smiled, easily and confidently. "The evidence will be produced +at the right time." He rose and turned to go. + +Jack also got up, white to the lips. "Hold on! Don't--don't do +anything in a hurry! I'll--talk with you to-morrow--here--in the +forenoon. Or say in a day or two. I'll let you know then." + +His cousin nodded grimly. + +The hard look passed from his eyes as he reached the corridor. "Had to +throw a scare into him to make him come through," he murmured in +apology to himself. + + + + +CHAPTER XXX + +KIRBY MAKES A CALL + +Kirby had been bluffing when he said he had evidence to prove that +James was in his uncle's rooms the very hour of the murder. But he was +now convinced that he had told the truth. James had been there, and +his brother Jack knew it. The confession had been written in his +shocked face when Kirby flung out the charge. + +But James might have been there and still be innocent, just as was the +case with him and Rose. The cattleman wanted to find the murderer, but +he wanted almost as much to find that James had nothing to do with the +crime. He eliminated Jack, except perhaps as an accessory after the +fact. Jack had a telltale face, but he might be cognizant of guilt +without being deeply a party to it. He could be insolent, but faults +of manner are not a crime. Besides, all Jack's interests lay in the +other direction. If his uncle had lived a day longer, he would have +been sole heir to the estate. + +As he wandered through the streets Kirby's mind was busy with the +problem. Automatically his legs carried him to the Paradox Apartments. +He found himself there before he even knew he had been heading in that +direction. Mrs. Hull came out and passed him. She was without a hat, +and probably was going to the corner grocery on Fifteenth. + +"I've been neglecting friend Hull," he murmured to himself. "I reckon +I'll just drop in an' ask him how his health is." + +He was not sorry that Mrs. Hull was out. She was easily, he judged, +the dominant member of the firm. If he could catch the fat man alone +he might gather something of importance. + +Hull opened the door of the apartment to his knock. He stood glaring +at the young man, his prominent eyes projecting, the red capillaries in +his beefy face filling. + +"Whadjawant?" he demanded. + +"A few words with you, Mr. Hull." Kirby pushed past him into the room, +much as an impudent agent does. + +"Well, I don't aim to have no truck with you at all," blustered the fat +man. "You've just naturally wore out yore welcome with me before ever +you set down. I'll ask you to go right now." + +"Here's your hat. What's your hurry?" murmured Kirby, by way of +quotation. "Sure I'll go. But don't get on the prod, Hull. I came to +make some remarks an' to ask a question. I'll not hurt you any. +Haven't got smallpox or anything." + +"I don't want you here. If the police knew you was here, they'd be +liable to think we was talkin' about--about what happened upstairs." + +"Then they would be right. That's exactly what we're gonna talk about." + +"No, sir! I ain't got a word to say--not a word!" The big man showed +signs of panic. + +"Then I'll say it." The dancing light died out of Kirby's eyes. They +became hard and steady as agates. "Who killed Cunningham, Hull?" + +The fishy eyes of the man dodged. A startled oath escaped him. "How +do I know?" + +"Didn't you kill him?" + +"Goddlemighty, no!" Hull dragged out the red bandanna and gave his +apoplectic face first aid. He mopped perspiration from the overlapping +roll of fat above his collar. "I dunno a thing about it. Honest, I +don't. You got no right to talk to me thataway." + +"You're a tub of iniquity, Hull. Also, you're a right poor liar. You +know a lot about it. You were in my uncle's rooms just before I saw +you on the night of his death. You were seen there." + +"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. + +"Shibo, why did you hide from the police that Mr. Hull was in my +uncle's rooms the night he was killed?" + +The janitor shot one slant, startled glance at Kirby before the mask of +impassivity wiped out expression from his eyes. + +"You know heap lot about everything. You busy busy all like honey-bee. +Me, I just janitor--mind own business." + +"I wonder, now." Kirby's level gaze took the man in carefully. Was he +as simple as he wanted to appear? + +"No talk when not have anything to tell." Shibo moved the sprinkler to +another part of the lawn. + +Kirby followed him. He had a capacity for patience. + +"Did Mr. Hull ask you not to tell about him?" + +Shibo said nothing, but he said it with indignant eloquence. + +"Did he give you money not to tell? I don't want to go to the police +with this if I can help it, Shibo. Better come through to me." + +"You go police an' say I know who make Mr. Cunningham dead?" + +"If I have to." + +The janitor had no more remarks to make. He lapsed into an angry, +stubborn silence. For nearly half an hour Kirby stayed by his side. +The cattleman asked questions. He suggested that, of course, the +police would soon find out the facts after he went to them. He even +went beyond his brief and implied that shortly Shibo would be occupying +a barred cell. + +But the man from the Orient contributed no more to the talk. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXI + +THE MASK OF THE RED BANDANNA + +It had come by special delivery, an ill-written little note scrawled on +cheap ruled paper torn from a tablet. + + +If you want to know who killed Cuningham i can tell you. Meet me at +the Denmark Bilding, room 419, at eleven tonight. Come alone. + +_One who knows_. + + +Kirby studied the invitation carefully. Was it genuine? Or was it a +plant? He was no handwriting expert, but he had a feeling that it was +a disguised script. There is an inimitable looseness of design in the +chirography of an illiterate person. He did not find here the +awkwardness of the inexpert; rather the elaborate imitation of an +amateur ignoramus. Yet he was not sure. He could give no definite +reason for this fancy. + +And in the end he tossed it overboard. He would keep the appointment +and see what came of it. Moreover, he would keep it alone--except for +a friend hanging under the left arm at his side. Kirby had brought no +revolver with him to Denver. Occasionally he carried one on the range +to frighten coyotes and to kill rattlers. But he knew where he could +borrow one, and he proceeded to do so. + +Not that there was any danger in meeting the unknown correspondent. +Kirby did not admit that for a moment. There are people so constituted +that they revel in the mysterious. They wrap their most common actions +in hints of reserve and weighty silence. Perhaps this man was one of +them. There was no danger whatever. Nobody had any reason to wish him +serious ill. Yet Kirby took a .45 with him when he set out for the +Denmark Building. He did it because that strange sixth sense of his +had warned him to do so. + +During the day he had examined the setting for the night's adventure. +He had been to the Denmark Building and scanned it inside and out. He +had gone up to the fourth floor and looked at the exterior of Room 419. +The office door had printed on it this design: + + + THE GOLD HILL MILLING & MINING COMPANY + + +But when Kirby tried the door he found it locked. + +The Denmark Building is a little out of the heart of the Denver +business district. It was built far uptown at a time when real estate +was booming. Adjoining it is the Rockford Building. The two dominate +a neighborhood of squat two-story stores and rooming-houses. In dull +seasons the offices in the two big landmarks are not always filled with +tenants. + +The elevators in the Denmark had ceased running hours since. Kirby +took the narrow stairs which wound round the elevator shaft. He trod +the iron treads very slowly, very softly. He had no wish to advertise +his presence. If there was to be any explosive surprise, he did not +want to be at the receiving end of it. + +He reached the second story, crossed the landing, and began the next +flight. The place was dark as a midnight pit. At the third floor its +blackness was relieved slightly by a ray of light from a transom far +down the corridor. + +Kirby waited to listen. He heard no faintest sound to break the +stillness. Again his foot found the lowest tread and he crept upward. +In the daytime he had laughed at the caution which had led him to +borrow a weapon from an acquaintance at the stockyards. But now every +sense shouted danger. He would not go back, but each forward step was +taken with infinite care. + +And his care availed him nothing. A lifted foot struck an empty soap +box with a clatter to wake the seven sleepers. Instantly he knew it +had been put there for him to stumble over. A strong searchlight +flooded the stairs and focused on him. He caught a momentary glimpse +of a featureless face standing out above the light--a face that was +nothing but a red bandanna handkerchief with slits in it for eyes--and +of a pair of feet below at the top of the stairway. + +The searchlight winked out. There was a flash of lightning and a crash +of thunder. A second time the pocket flash found Kirby. It found him +crouched low and reaching for the .45 under his arm. The booming of +the revolver above reverberated down the pit of the stairway. + +Arrow-swift, with the lithe ease of a wild thing from the forest, Kirby +ducked round the corner for safety. He did not wait there, but took +the stairs down three at a stride. Not till he had reached the ground +floor did he stop to listen for the pursuit. + +No sound of following footsteps came to him. By some miracle of good +luck he had escaped the ambush. It was characteristic of him that he +did not fly wildly into the night. His brain functioned normally, +coolly. Whoever it was had led him into the trap had lost his chance. +Kirby reasoned that the assassin's mind would be bent on making his own +safe escape before the police arrived. + +The cattleman waited, crouched behind an out-jutting pillar in the wall +of the entrance. Every minute he expected to see a furtive figure +sneak past him into the street. His hopes were disappointed. It was +nearly midnight when two men, talking cheerfully of the last gusher in, +the Buckburnett field, emerged from the stairway and passed into the +street. They were tenants who had stayed late to do some unfinished +business. + +There was a drug-store in the building, cornering on two streets. +Kirby stepped into it and asked a question of the clerk at the +prescription desk. + +"Is there more than one entrance to the Denmark Building?" + +"No, sir." The clerk corrected himself. "Well, there's another way +out. The Producers & Developers Shale and Oil Company have a suite of +offices that run into the Rockford Building. They've built an alley to +connect between the two buildings. It's on the fifth floor." + +"Is it open? Could a man get out of the Denmark Building now by way of +the Rockford entrance?" + +"Easiest in the world. All he'd have to do would be to cross the alley +bridge, go down the Rockford stairs, and walk into the street." + +Kirby wasted no more time. He knew that the man who had tried to +murder him had long since made good his getaway by means of the +fifth-story bridge between the buildings. + +As he walked back to the hotel where he was stopping his eyes and ears +were busy. He took no dark-alley chances, but headed for the bright +lights of the main streets where he would be safe from any possibility +of a second ambush. + +His brain was as busy as his eyes. Who had planned this attempt on his +life and so nearly carried it to success? Of one thing he was sure. +The assassin who had flung the shots at him down the narrow stairway of +the Denmark was the one who had murdered his uncle. The motive for the +ambuscade was fear. Kirby was too hot on the trail that might send him +to the gallows. The man had decided to play safe by following the old +theory that dead men tell no tales. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXII + +JACK TAKES OFF HIS COAT + +Afterward, when Kirby Lane looked back upon the weeks spent in Denver +trying to clear up the mysteries which surrounded the whole affair of +his uncle's death, it seemed to him that he had been at times +incredibly stupid. Nowhere did this accent itself so much as in that +part of the tangle which related to Esther McLean. + +From time to time Kirby saw Cole. He was in and out of town. Most of +his time was spent running down faint trails which spun themselves out +and became lost in the hills. The champion rough rider was indomitably +resolute in his intention of finding her. There were times when Rose +began to fear that her little sister was lost to her for always. But +Sanborn never shared this feeling. + +"You wait. I'll find her," he promised. "An' if I can lay my hands on +the man that's done her a meanness, I'll certainly give them hospital +sharks a job patchin' him up." His gentle eyes had frozen, and the +cold, hard light in them was almost deadly. + +Kirby could not get it out of his head that James was responsible for +the disappearance of the girl. Yet he could not find a motive that +would justify so much trouble on his cousin's part. + +He was at a moving-picture house on Curtis Street with Rose when the +explanation popped into his mind. They were watching an old-fashioned +melodrama in which the villain's letter is laid at the door of the +unfortunate hero. + +Kirby leaned toward Rose in the darkness and whispered, "Let's go." + +"Go where?" she wanted to know in surprise. They had seated themselves +not five minutes before. + +"I've got a hunch. Come." + +She rose, and on the way to the aisle brushed past several irritated +ladies. Not till they were standing on the sidewalk outside did he +tell her what was on his mind. + +"I want to see that note from my uncle you found in your sister's +desk," he said. + +She looked at him and laughed a little. "You certainly want what you +want when you want it! Do your hunches often take you like that--right +out of a perfectly good show you've paid your money to see?" + +"We've made a mistake. It was seein' that fellow in the play that put +me wise. Have you got the note with you?" + +"No. It's at home. If you like we'll go and get it." + +They walked up to the Pioneers' Monument and from there over to her +boarding-place. + +Kirby looked the little note over carefully. "What a chump I was not +to look at this before," he said. "My uncle never wrote it." + +"Never wrote it?" + +"Not his writin' a-tall." + +"Then whose is it?" + +"I can make a darn good guess. Can't you?" + +She looked at him, eyes dilated, on the verge of a discovery. "You +mean--?" + +"I mean that J. C. might stand for at least two other men we know." + +"Your cousin James?" + +"More likely Jack." + +His mind beat back to fugitive memories of Jack's embarrassment when +Esther's name had been mentioned in connection with his uncle. Swiftly +his brain began to piece the bits of evidence he had not understood the +meaning of before. + +"Jack's the man. You may depend on it. My uncle hadn't anything to do +with it. We jumped at that conclusion too quick," he went on. + +"You think that she's . . . with him?" + +"No. She's likely out in the country or in some small town. He's +havin' her looked after. Probably an attack of conscience. Even if +he's selfish as the devil, he isn't heartless." + +"If we could be sure she's all right. But we can't." Rose turned on +him a wistful face, twisted by emotion. "I want to find her, Kirby. +I'm her sister. She's all I've got. Can't you do something?" + +"I'll try." + +She noticed the hardening of the lean jaw, the tightening of the +muscles as the back teeth clenched. + +"Don't--don't do anything--rash," she begged. + +Her hand rested lightly on his arm. Their eyes met. He smiled grimly. + +"Don't worry. Mebbe I'll call you up later tonight and report +progress." + +He walked to the nearest drug-store and used the telephone freely. At +the end of fifteen minutes he stepped out of the booth. His cousin +Jack was doing some evening work at the offices where he was now in +charge of settling up his uncle's affairs. + +Kirby found him there. A man stenographer was putting on his coat to +leave, but Jack was still at his desk. He looked up, annoyed. + +"Was that you telephoned me?" he asked. + +"Yes." + +"I told you I'd let you know when I wanted to see you." + +"So you did. But you didn't let me know. The shoe's on the other foot +now. I want to see you." + +"I'm not interested in anything you have to say." + +The stenographer had gone. Kirby could hear his footsteps echoing down +the corridor. He threw the catch of the lock and closed the door. + +"I can promise to keep you interested," he said, very quietly. + +Jack rose. He wore white shoes, duck trousers, a white pique shirt, +and a blue serge coat that fitted his graceful figure perfectly. "What +did you do that for?" he demanded. "Open that door!" + +"Not just yet, Jack. I've come for a settlement. It's up to you to +say what kind of a one it'll be." + +Cunningham's dark eyes glittered. He was no physical coward. +Moreover, he was a trained athlete, not long out of college. He had +been the middle-weight champion boxer of the university. If this tough +brown cousin wanted a set-to, he would not have to ask twice for it. + +"Suits me fine," he said. "What's your proposition?" + +"I've been a blind idiot. Didn't see what was right before my eyes. I +reckon you've had some laughs at me. Well, I hope you enjoyed 'em. +There aren't any more grins comin' to you." Kirby spoke coldly, +implacably, his voice grating like steel on steel. + +"Meaning, in plain English?" + +"That you've let a dead man's shoulders carry your sins. You heard us +blame Uncle James for Esther McLean's trouble. An' you never said a +word to set us right. Yet you're the man, you damned scoundrel!" + +Jack went white to the lips, then flushed angrily. "You can't ever +mind your own business, can you?" + +"I want just two things from you. The first is, to know where you've +taken her; the second, to tell you that you're goin' to make this right +an' see that you do it." + +"When you talk to me like that I've nothing to say. No man living can +bully me." + +"You won't come through. Is that it?" + +"You may go to the devil for all of me." + +Their stormy eyes clashed. + +"The girl you took advantage of hasn't any brother," the Wyoming man +said. "I'm electin' myself to that job for a while. If I can I'm +goin' to whale the life outa you." + +Jack slipped out of his coat and tossed it on the desk. Even in that +moment, while Kirby was concentrating for the attack, the rough rider +found time to regret that so good-looking a youth, one so gallantly +poised and so gracefully graceless, should be a black-hearted scamp. + +"Hop to it!" invited the college man. Under thick dark lashes his +black eyes danced with excitement. + +Kirby lashed out with his right, hard and straight. His cousin ducked +with the easy grace of a man who has spent many hours on a ballroom +floor. The cattleman struck again. Jack caught the blow and deflected +it, at the same time uppercutting swiftly for the chin. The counter +landed flush on Kirby's cheek and flung him back to the wall. + +He grinned, and plunged again. A driving left caught him off balance +and flung him from his feet. He was up again instantly, shaking his +head to clear it of the dizziness that sang there. + +It came to him that he must use his brains against this expert boxer or +suffer a knockout. He must wear Jack out, let him spend his strength +in attack, watch for the chance that was bound to come if he could +weather the storm long enough. + +Not at all loath, Jack took the offensive. He went to work coolly to +put out his foe. He landed three for one, timing and placing his blows +carefully to get the maximum effect. A second time Kirby hit the floor. + +Jack hoped he would stay down. The clubman was a little out of +condition. He was beginning to breathe fast. His cousin had landed +hard two or three times on the body. Back of each of these blows there +had been a punishing force. Cunningham knew he had to win soon if at +all. + +But Kirby had not the least intention of quitting. He was the tough +product of wind and sun and hard work. He bored in and asked for more, +still playing for his opponent's wind. Kirby knew he was the stronger +man, in far better condition. He could afford to wait--and Jack could +not. He killed the boxer's attacks with deadly counter-blows, moving +in and out lithely as a cat. + +The rough rider landed close to the solar plexus. Jack winced and gave +ground. Kirby's fist got home again. He crowded Jack, feeling that +his man was weakening. + +Jack rallied for one last desperate set-to, hoping for a chance blow to +knock Kirby out. He scored a dozen times. Lane gave ground, slowly, +watchfully, guarding as best he could. + +Then his brown fist shot out and up. It moved scarcely six inches, +straight for the college boxer's chin. Jack's knees sagged. He went +down, rolled over, and lay still. + +Kirby found water and brought it back. Jack was sitting up, his back +propped against the wall. He swallowed a gulp or two and splashed the +rest on his face. + +"I'll say you can hit like the kick of a mule," he said. "If you'd +been a reasonable human, I ought to have got you, at that. Don't you +ever stay down?" + +Kirby could not repress a little smile. In spite of himself he felt a +sneaking admiration for this insouciant youth who could take a beating +like a sportsman. + +"You're some little mixer yourself," he said. + +"Thought I was, before I bumped into you. Say, gimme a hand up. I'm a +bit groggy yet." + +Kirby helped him to his feet. The immaculate shirt and trousers were +spattered with blood, mostly Kirby's. The young dandy looked at +himself, and a humorous quirk twitched at the corner of his mouth. + +"Some scrap. Let's go into the lavatory and do some reconstruction +work," he said. + +Side by side at adjoining washbowls, perfectly amicably, they repaired +as far as possible the damages of war. Not till they had put on again +their coats did Kirby hark back to the purpose of the meeting. + +"You haven't told me yet what I want to know." + +Out of a damaged eye Jack looked at him evenly. "And that's only part +of it. I'm not going to, either." + +He had said the last word. Kirby could not begin all over again to +thrash him. It was not reasonable. And if he did, he knew quite well +he would get nothing out of the man. If he would not talk, he would +not. + +The bronco buster walked back to his hotel. A special-delivery letter +was in his box. It was postmarked Golden. As he handed it to him the +clerk looked him over curiously. It had been some time since he had +seen a face so badly cut up and swollen. + +"You ought to see the other fellow," Kirby told him with a lopsided +grin as he ripped open the envelope. + +Before his eyes had traveled halfway down the sheet the cowman gave a +modulated whoop of joy. + +"Good news?" asked the clerk. + +Kirby did not answer. His eyes were staring in blank astonishment at +one sentence in the letter. The note was from Cole Sanborn. This is +what Kirby read in it: + + +Well, old-timer, there aint no trail so blamed long but what its got a +turn in it somewheres. I done found Esther up Platte Canon and +everythings OK as you might say. I reckon you are wondering howcome +this to be postmarked Golden. Well, old pardner, Im sure enough +married at last but I had a great time getting Esther to see this my +way. Shes one swell little girl and theres only one thing I hate. +Before she would marry me I had to swear up and down I wouldnt touch +the yellow wolf who got her into trouble. But she didnt say nothing +about you so I will just slip you his name. It wasnt your uncle at all +but that crooked oil broker nephew of his James Cunningham. If you can +muss him up proper for me youll sure be doing a favor to + + yours respectably + + COLE SANBORN + +P.S. Esther sends bushels of love to Rose and will write to-morrow. +I'll say Im going to make her one happy kid. + +COLE + + +Kirby laughed in sardonic mirth. He had fought the wrong man. + +It was James Cunningham, not Jack. And, of course, Jack had known it +all the time and been embarrassed by it. He had stuck loyally to his +brother and had taken the whaling of his life rather than betray him. + +Kirby took off his hat to Jack. He had stood pat to a fighting finish. +He was one good square sport. + +Even as he was thinking this, Kirby was moving toward the telephone +booth. He had promised to report progress. For once he had +considerable to report. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXIII + +OLSON TELLS A STORY + +When Rose heard from Esther next day she and Kirby took the Interurban +for Golden. Esther had written that she wanted to see her sister +because Cole was going to take her back to Wyoming at once. + +The sisters wept in each other's arms and then passed together into +Esther's bedroom for an intimate talk. The younger sister was still +happy only in moments of forgetfulness, though she had been rescued +from death in life. Cole had found her comfortably situated at a +farmhouse a mile or two back from the canon. She had gone there under +the urge of her need, at the instigation of James Cunningham, who could +not afford to have the scandal of his relations with her become public +at the same time as the announcement of his marriage to Phyllis +Harriman. The girl loved Cole and trusted him. Her heart went out to +him in a warm glow of gratitude. But the shadow of her fault was a +barrier in her mind between them, and would be long after his kindness +had melted the ice in her bosom. + +"We've got it all fixed up to tell how we was married when I come down +to Denver last April only we kep' it quiet because she wanted to hold +her job awhile," Cole explained to his friend. "Onct I get her back +there in God's hills she'll sure enough forget all about this trouble. +The way I look at it she was jus' like a li'l' kid that takes a +mis-step in the dark an' falls an' hurts itself. You know how a +wounded deer can look at a fellow so sorrowful an' hurt. Well, that's +how her brown eyes looked at me when I come round the corner o' the +house up Platte Canon an' seen her sittin' there starin' at hell." + +Kirby shook hands with him in a sudden stress of emotion. "You'll do +to take along, old alkali, you sure enough will." + +"Oh, shucks!" retorted Cole, between disgust and embarrassment. "I +always claimed to be a white man, didn't I? You can't give a fellow +credit for doin' the thing he'd rather do than anything else. But prod +a peg in this. I'm gonna make that li'l' girl plumb happy. She thinks +she won't be, that she's lost the right to be. She's 'way off, I can +see her perkin' up already. I got a real honest-to-God laugh outa her +this mo'nin'." + +Kirby knew the patience, the steadiness, and the kindliness of his +friend. Esther had fallen into the best of hands. She would find +again the joy of life. He had no doubt of that. Gayety and laughter +were of her heritage. + +He said as much to Rose on the way home. She agreed. For the first +time since she left Cheyenne the girl was her old self. Esther's +problem had been solved far more happily than she had dared to hope. + +"I'm goin' to have a gay time apologizin' to Jack," said Kirby, his +eyes dancing. "It's not so blamed funny at that, but I can't help +laughin' every time I think of how he must 'a' been grinnin' up his +sleeve at me for my fool mistake. I'll say he brought it on himself, +though. He was feelin' guilty on his brother's account, an' I didn't +get his embarrassment right. James is a pretty cool customer. From +first to last he never turned a hair when the subject was mentioned." + +"What about him?" Rose asked. + +The cattleman pretended alarm. "Now, don't you," he remonstrated. +"Don't you expect me to manhandle James, too. I'm like Napoleon. +Another victory like the battle of last night would sure put me in the +hospital. I'm a peaceable citizen, a poor, lone cowboy far away from +home. Where I come from it's as quiet as a peace conference. This +wildest-Denver stuff gets my nerve." + +She smiled into his battered face. A dimple nestled in her soft, warm +cheek. "I see it does. It's a pity about you. I didn't suppose your +cousin Jack had it in him to spoil your beauty like that." + +"Neither did I," he said, answering her smile. "I sure picked on the +wrong man. He's one handy lad with his dibs--put me down twice before +we decided to call it off. I like that young fellow." + +"Better not like him too much. You may have to work against him yet." + +"True enough," he admitted, falling grave again. "As to James, we'll +ride close herd on him for a while, but we'll ride wide. Looks to me +like he may have to face a jury an' fight for his life right soon." + +"Do you think he killed your uncle?" + +"I don't want to think so. He's a bad egg, I'm afraid. But my +father's sister was his mother. I'd hate to have to believe it." + +"But in your heart you do believe it," she said gently. + +He looked at her. "I'm afraid so. But that's a long way from knowing +it." + +They parted at her boarding-house. + +A man rose to meet Kirby when he stepped into the rotunda of his hotel. +He was a gaunt, broad-shouldered man with ragged eyebrows. + +"Well, I came," he said, and his voice was harsh. + +"Glad to see you, Mr. Olson. Come up to my room. We can talk there +more freely." + +The Scandinavian rancher followed him to the elevator and from there to +his room. + +"Why don't they arrest Hull?" he demanded as soon as the door was +closed. + +"Not evidence enough." + +"Suppose I can give evidence. Say I practically saw Hull do it. Would +they arrest him--or me?" + +"They'd arrest him," Kirby answered. "They don't know you're the man +who wrote the threatening letter." + +"Hmp!" grunted the rancher suspiciously. "That's what _you_ say, but +you're not the whole works." + +Kirby offered a chair and a cigar. He sat down on the bed himself. +"Better spill your story to me, Olson. Two heads are better than one," +he said carelessly. + +The Swede's sullen eyes bored into him. Before that frank and engaging +smile his doubts lost force. "I got to take a chance. Might as well +be with you as any one." + +The Wyoming man struck a match, held it for the use of his guest, then +lit his own cigar. For a few moments they smoked in silence. Kirby +leaned back easily against the head of the bed. He did not intend to +frighten the rancher by hurrying him. + +"When Cunningham worked that crooked irrigation scheme of his on Dry +Valley, I reckon I was one of them that hollered the loudest. Prob'ly +I talked foolish about what all I was gonna do about it. I wasn't +blowin' off hot air either. If I'd got a good chance at him, or at +Hull either, I would surely have called for a showdown an' gunned him +if I could. But that wasn't what I came to Denver for. I had to +arrange about gettin' my mortgage renewed." + +He stopped and took a nervous puff or two at the cigar. Kirby nodded +in a friendly fashion without speaking. He did not want by anything he +might say to divert the man's mind from the track it was following. + +"I took a room at the Wyndham because the place had been recommended to +me by a neighbor of mine who knew the landlady. When I went there I +didn't know that either Cunningham or Hull lived next door. That's a +God's truth. I didn't. Well, I saw Hull go in there the very day I +got to town, but the first I knew yore uncle lived there was ten or +maybe fifteen minutes before he was killed. I wouldn't say but what it +was twenty minutes, come to that. I wasn't payin' no attention to +time." + +Olson's eyes challenged those of his host. His suspicion was still +smoldering. An unhappy remark, a look of distrust, might still have +dried up the stream of his story. But he found in that steady regard +nothing more damnatory than a keen, boyish interest. + +"Maybe you recollect how hot those days were. Well, in my cheap, +stuffy room, openin' on an air-shaft, it was hotter 'n hell with the +lid on. When I couldn't stand it any longer, I went out into the +corridor an' down it to the fire escape outside the window. It was a +lot cooler there. I lit a stogie an' sat on the railin' smokin', maybe +for a quarter of an hour. By-an'-by some one come into the apartment +right acrost the alley from me. I could see the lights come on. It +was a man. I saw him step into what must be the bedroom. He moved +around there some. I couldn't tell what he was doin' because he didn't +switch on the light, but he must 'a' been changin' to his easy coat an' +his slippers. I know that because he came into the room just opposite +the fire escape where I was sittin' on the rail. He threw on the +lights, an' I saw him plain. It was Cunningham, the old crook who had +beat me outa fifteen hundred dollars." + +Kirby smoked steadily, evenly. Not a flicker of the eyelids showed the +excitement racing through his blood. At last he was coming close to +the heart of the mystery that surrounded the deaths of his uncle and +his valet. + +"I reckon I saw red for a minute," Olson continued. "If I'd been +carryin' a gun I might 'a' used it right there an' then. But I hadn't +one, lucky for me. He sat down in a big easy-chair an' took a paper +from his pocket. It looked like some kind of a legal document. He +read it through, then stuck it in one o' the cubby-holes of his desk. +I forgot to say he was smokin', an' not a stogie like I was, but a big +cigar he'd unwrapped from silver paper after takin' it from a boxful." + +"He lighted the cigar after coming into the small room," Kirby said, in +the voice of a question. + +"Yes. Didn't I say so? Took it from a box on a stand near the chair. +Well, when he got through with the paper he leaned back an' kinda shut +his eyes like he was thinkin' somethin' over. All of a sudden I saw +him straighten up an' get rigid. Before he could rise from the chair a +woman came into the room an' after her a man. + +"The man was Cass Hull." + + + + +CHAPTER XXXIV + +FROM THE FIRE ESCAPE + +"The woman--what was she like?" + +"She was tall an' thin an' flat-chested. I didn't know her at the +time, but it must 'a' been Hull's wife." + +"You said you didn't know what time this was," Kirby said. + +"No. My old watch had quit doin' business an' I hated to spend the +money to get it fixed. The mainspring was busted, a jeweler told me." + +"Who spoke first after they came into the room?" + +"Yore uncle. He laid the cigar down on the stand an' asked them what +they wanted. He didn't rise from the chair, but his voice rasped when +he spoke. It was the woman answered. She took the lead all through. +'We've come for a settlement,' she said. 'An' we're goin' to have it +right now.' He stiffened up at that. He come back at her with, 'You +can't get no shot-gun settlement outa me.' Words just poured from that +woman's mouth. She roasted him to a turn, told how he was crooked as a +dog's hind leg an' every deal he touched was dirty. Said he couldn't +even be square to his own pardners, that he couldn't get a man, woman, +or child in Colorado to say he'd ever done a good act. Believe me, she +laid him out proper, an' every word of it was true, 'far as I know. + +"Well, sir, that old reprobate uncle of yours never batted an eye. He +slid down in his chair a little so's he could be comfortable while he +listened. He grinned up at her like she was some kind of specimen had +broke loose from a circus an' he was interested in the way it acted. +That didn't calm her down none. She rip-r'ared right along, with a +steady flow of words, mostly adjectives. Finally she quit, an' she was +plumb white with anger. 'Quite through?' yore uncle asked with that +ice-cold voice of his. She asked him what he intended to do about a +settlement. 'Not a thing,' he told her. 'I did aim to give Hull two +thousand to get rid of him. But I've changed my mind, ma'am. You can +go whistle for it.'" + +"Two thousand! Did he say two thousand?" + +Kirby leaned forward eagerly. + +"That's what he said. Two thousand," answered Olson. + +"Then that explains why he drew so much from the bank that day." + +"I had it figured out so. If the woman hadn't come at him with that +acid tongue of hers he'd intended to buy Hull off cheap. But she got +his gorge up. He wouldn't stand for her line of talk." + +"What took place then?" the cattleman questioned. + +"Still without rising from the chair, Cunningham ordered them to get +out. Hull was standin' kinda close to him. He had his back to me. +Cunningham reached out an' opened a drawer of the stand beside him. +The fat man took a step forward. I could see his gun flash in the +light. He swung it down on yore uncle's head an' the old man crumpled +up." + +"So it was Hull killed him, after all," Kirby said, drawing a long +breath of relief. + +Then, to his surprise when he thought about it later, a glitter of +malicious cunning lit the eyes of the rancher. + +"That's what I'm tellin' you. It was Hull. I stood there an' saw just +what I've been givin' you." + +"Was my uncle senseless then?" + +"You bet he was. His head sagged clear over against the back of the +chair." + +"What did they do then?" + +"That's where I drop out. Mrs. Hull stepped straight to the window. I +crouched down back of the railin'. It was dark an' she didn't see me. +She pulled the blind down. I waited there awhile an' afterward there +was the sound of a shot. That would be when they sent the bullet +through the old man's brain." + +"What did you do?" + +"I didn't know what to do. I'd talked a lot of wild talk about how +Cunningham ought to be shot or strung up to a pole. If I went to the +police with my story, like enough they 'd light on me as the killer. I +milled the whole thing over. After a while I went into a public booth +downtown an' 'phoned to the police. You recollect maybe the papers +spoke about the man who called up headquarters with the news of +Cunningham's death." + +"Yes, I recollect that all right." + +Kirby did not smile. He did not explain that he was the man. But he +resolved to find out whether two men had notified the police of his +uncle's death. If not, Olson was lying in at least one detail. He had +a suspicion that the man had not given him the whole truth. He was +telling part of it, but he was holding back something. A sly and +furtive look in his eyes helped to build this impression in the mind of +the man who listened to the story. + +"You didn't actually see Hull fire the shot that killed my uncle, then?" + +Olson hesitated, a fraction of a second. "No." + +"You don't know that it was he that fired it." + +"No, it might 'a' been the woman. But it ain't likely he handed her +the gun to do it with, is it? For that matter I don't know that the +crack over the head didn't kill Cunningham. Maybe it did." + +"That's all you saw?" + +Again the almost imperceptible hesitation. Then, "That's all," the Dry +Valley rancher said sullenly. + +"What kind of a gun was it?" Kirby asked. + +"Too far away. Couldn't be sure." + +"Big as a.45?" + +"Couldn't 'a' been. The evidence was that it was done with an +automatic." + +"The evidence was that the wound in the head was probably made by a +bullet from an automatic. We're talkin' now about the blow _on_ the +head." + +"What are you drivin' at?" the rancher asked, scowling. "He wouldn't +bring two different kinds of gun with him. That's a cinch." + +"No; but we haven't proved yet he fired the shot you heard later. The +chances are all that he did, but legally we have no evidence that +somebody else didn't do it." + +"I guess a jury would be satisfied he fired it all right." + +"Probably. It looks bad for Hull. Don't you think you ought to go to +the police with your story? Then we can have Hull arrested. They'll +give him the third degree. My opinion is he'll break down under it and +confess." + +Olson consented with obvious reluctance, but he made a condition +precedent to his acceptance. "Le' 's see Hull first, just you 'n' me. +I ain't strong for the police. We'll go to them when we've got an open +an' shut case." + +Kirby considered. This story didn't wholly fit the facts as he knew +them. For instance, there was no explanation in it of how the room +where Cunningham was found murdered had become saturated with the odor +of chloroform. Nor was it in character that Hull should risk firing a +gun, the sound of which might bring detection on him, while his victim +lay helpless before him. Another blow or two on the skull would have +served his purpose noiselessly. The cattleman knew from his +observation of this case that the authorities had a way of muddling +things. Perhaps it would be better to wait until the difficulties had +been smoothed out before going to them. + +"That suits me," he said. "We'll tackle Hull when his wife isn't with +him. He goes downtown every day about ten o'clock. We'll pick him up +in a taxi, run him out into the country somewhere, an' put him over the +jumps. The sooner the quicker. How about to-morrow morning?" + +"Suits me, too. But will he go with us?" + +"He'll go with us," Kirby said quietly. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXV + +LIKE A THIEF IN THE NIGHT + +From ten thousand bulbs the moving-picture houses of Curtis Street were +flinging a glow upon the packed sidewalks when Kirby came out of the +hotel and started uptown. + +He walked to the Wyndham, entered, and slipped up the stairs of the +rooming-house unnoticed. From the third story he ascended by a ladder +to the flat roof. He knew exactly what he had come to investigate. +From one of the windows of the fourth floor at the Paradox he had +noticed the clothes-line which stretched across the Wyndham roof from +one corner to another. He went straight to one of the posts which +supported the rope. He made a careful study of this, then walked to +the other upright support and examined the knots which held the line +fast here. + +"I'm some good little guesser," he murmured to himself as he turned +back to the ladder and descended to the floor below. + +He moved quietly along the corridor to the fire escape and stepped out +upon it. Then, very quickly and expertly, he coiled a rope which he +took from a paper parcel that had been under his arm. At one end of +the coil was a loop. He swung this lightly round his head once or +twice to feel the weight of it. The rope snaked forward and up. Its +loop dropped upon the stone abutment he had noticed when he had been +examining the exteriors of the buildings with Cole Sanborn. It +tightened when he gave a jerk. + +Kirby climbed over the railing and swung himself lightly out into +space. A moment, and he was swaying beside the fire escape of the +Paradox. He caught the iron rail and pulled himself to the platform. + +By chance the blind was down. There was no light within, but after his +eyes had become used to the darkness he tried to take a squint at the +room from the sides of the blind. The shade hung an inch or two from +the window frame, so that by holding his eye close he could get more +than a glimpse of the interior. + +He tapped gently on the glass. The lights inside flashed on. From one +viewpoint he could see almost half the room. He could go to the other +side of the blind and see most of the other half. + +A man sat down in a chair close to the opposite wall, letting his hands +fall on the arms. A girl stood in front of him and pointed a +paper-knife at his head, holding it as though it were a revolver. The +head of the man fell sideways. + +Kirby tapped on the window pane again. He edged up the sash and +stepped into the room. + +The young woman turned to him eagerly, a warm glow in her shell-pink +cheeks. "Well?" she inquired. + +"Worked out fine, Rose," Kirby said. "I could see the whole thing." + +"Still, that don't prove anything," the other man put in. He belonged +to the staff of the private detective agency with which Kirby was +dealing. + +The Wyoming man smiled. "It proves my theory is possible. Knowing +Olson, I'm willin' to gamble he didn't sit still on the fire escape an' +let that drawn blind shut him off from what was goin' on inside. He +was one mighty interested observer. Now he must 'a' known there was a +clothes-line on the roof. From the street you can see a washin' +hangin' out there any old time. In his place I'd 'a' bopped up to the +roof an' got that line. Which is exactly what he did, I'll bet. The +line had been tied to the posts with a lot of knots. He hadn't time to +untie it. So he cut the rope. It's been spliced out since by a piece +of rope of a different kind." + +"How do you know that's been done since?" the detective asked. + +"A fair question," Kirby nodded. "I don't. I'll find out about that +when I talk with the landlady of the Wyndham. If I'm right you can bet +that cut rope has puzzled her some. She can't figure out why any one +would cut her rope down an' then leave it there." + +"If you can show me her rope was cut that night, I'll say you're +right," the detective admitted. "And if you are right, then the Swede +must 'a' been right here when your uncle was killed." + +"_May_ have been," Kirby corrected. "We haven't any authentic evidence +yet as to exactly when my uncle was killed. We're gettin' the time +narrowed down. It was between 9.30 and 9.50. We know that." + +"How do you know that?" the professional sleuth asked. "Accordin' to +your story you didn't get into the apartment until after ten o'clock. +It might 'a' been done any time up till then." + +The eyes of Kirby and Rose met. They had private information about who +was in the rooms from about 9.55 till 10.10. + +The cattleman corrected his statement. "All right, say between 9.30 +and 10.05. During that time Hull may have shot my uncle. Or Olson may +have opened the window while my uncle lay there helpless, killed him, +stepped outa the window again, an' slipped down by the fire escape. +All he'd have to do then would be to walk into the Wyndham, replace the +rope on the roof, an' next mornin' leave for Dry Valley." + +The detective nodded. "_If_ he cut the rope. Lemme find out from the +landlady whether it _was_ cut that night." + +"Good. We'll wait for you at the corner." + +Ten minutes later the detective joined them in front of the drug-store +where they were standing. The hard eyes in his cold gambler's face +were lit up for once. + +"I'll say the man from Missouri has been shown," he said. "I let on to +the dame at the Wyndham that I was after a gang of young sneak thieves +in the neighborhood. Pretty soon I drifted her to the night of the +twenty-third--said they 'd been especially active that night and had +used a rope to get into a second story of a building. She woke up. +Her clothesline on the roof had been cut that very night. She +remembered the night on account of its being the one when Mr. +Cunningham was killed. Could the boys have used it to get into the +store an' then brought it back? I thought likely." + +"Bully! We're one step nearer than we were. We know Olson was lookin' +in the window from the fire escape just outside." + +The detective slapped his thigh. "It lies between Hull and the Swede. +That's a cinch." + +"I believe it does," agreed Rose. + +Kirby made no comment. He seemed to be absorbed in speculations of his +own. The detective was reasoning from a very partial knowledge of the +facts. He knew nothing about the relations of James Cunningham to his +uncle, nor even that the younger Cunninghams--or at least one of +them--had been in his uncle's apartment the evening of his death. He +did not know that Rose had been there. Wherefore his deductions, even +though they had the benefit of being trained ones, were of slight value +in this case. + +"Will you take the key back to the Chief of Police?" Kirby asked him as +they separated. "Better not tell him who was with you or what we were +doin'." + +"I'm liable to tell him a whole lot," the detective answered with heavy +irony. "I'm figurin' on runnin' down this murderer myself if any one +asks you." + +"Wish you luck," Kirby said with perfect gravity. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXVI + +A RIDE IN A TAXI + +Kirby was quite right when he said that Hull would go with them. He +was on his way downtown when the taxi caught him at Fourteenth and +Welton. The cattleman jumped out from the machine and touched the fat +man on the arm as he was waddling past. + +"We want you, Hull," he said. + +A shadow of fear flitted over the shallow eyes of the land agent, but +he attempted at once to bluster. "Who wants me? Whadjawant me for?" + +"I want you--in that cab. The man who saw you in my uncle's room the +night he was killed is with me. You can either come with us now an' +talk this thing over quietly or I'll hang on to you an' call for a +policeman. It's up to you. Either way is agreeable to me." + +Beads of perspiration broke out on the fat man's forehead. He dragged +from his left hip pocket the familiar bandanna handkerchief. With it +he dabbed softly at his mottled face. There was a faint, a very faint, +note of defiance in his voice as he answered. + +"I dunno as I've got any call to go with you. I wasn't in Cunningham's +rooms. You can't touch me--can't prove a thing on me." + +"It won't cost you anything to make sure of that," Kirby suggested in +his low, even tones. "I'm payin' for the ride." + +"If you got anything to say to me, right here's a good place to onload +it." + +The man's will was wobbling. The cattleman could see that. + +"Can't talk here, with a hundred people passin'. What's the matter, +man? What are you afraid of? _We're not goin' to hit you over the +head with the butt of a six-shooter_." + +Hull flung at him a look of startled terror. What did he mean? Or was +there anything significant in the last sentence? Was it just a shot in +the dark? + +"I'll go on back to the Paradox. If you want to see me, why, there's +as good a place as any." + +"We're choosin' the place, Hull, not you. You'll either step into that +cab or into a patrol wagon." + +Their eyes met and fought. The shallow, protuberant ones wavered. +"Oh, well, it ain't worth chewin' the rag over. I reckon I'll go with +you." + +He stepped into the cab. At sight of Olson he showed both dismay and +surprise. He had heard of the threats the Dry Valley man had been +making. Was he starting on a journey the end of which would be summary +vengeance? A glance at Lane's face reassured him. This young fellow +would be no accomplice at murder. Yet the chill at his heart told him +he was in for serious trouble. + +He tried to placate Olson with a smile and made a motion to offer his +hand. The Scandinavian glared at him. + +The taxicab swung down Fourteenth, across the viaduct to Lake Place, +and from it to Federal Boulevard. + +Hull moistened his lips with his tongue and broke the silence. "Where +we goin'?" he asked at last. + +"Where we can talk without bein' overheard," Kirby answered. + +The cab ran up the steep slope to Inspiration Point and stopped there. +The men got out. + +"Come back for us in half an hour," the cattleman told the driver. + +In front and below them lay the beautiful valley of Clear Creek. +Beyond it were the foothills, and back of them the line of the Front +Range stretching from Pike's Peak at the south up to the Wyoming line. +Grey's and Long's and Mount Evans stood out like giant sentinels in the +clear sunshine. + +Hull looked across the valley nervously and brought his eyes back with +a jerk. "Well, what's it all about? Whadjawant?" + +"I know now why you lied at the inquest about the time you saw me on +the night my uncle was killed," Kirby told him. + +"I didn't lie. Maybe I was mistaken. Any man's liable to make a +mistake." + +"You didn't make a mistake. You deliberately twisted your story so as +to get me into my uncle's apartment forty minutes or so earlier than I +was. Your reason was a good one. If I was in his rooms at the time he +was shot, that let you out completely. So you tried to lie me into the +death cell at Canon City." + +Hull's bandanna was busy. "Nothin' like that. I wouldn't play no such +a trick on any man. No, sir." + +"You wouldn't, but you did. Don't stall, Hull. We've got you right." + +The rancher from Dry Valley broke in venomously. "You bet we have, you +rotten crook. I'll pay you back proper for that deal you an' +Cunningham slipped over on me. I'm gonna put a rope round yore neck +for it. I sure am. Why, you big fat stiff, I was standin' watchin' +you when you knocked out Cunningham with the butt of yore gun." + +From Hull's red face the color fled. He teetered for a moment on the +balls of his feet, then sank limply to the cement bench in front of +him. He tried to gasp out a denial, but the words would not come. In +his throat there was only a dry rattle. + +He heard, as from a long distance, Lane's voice addressing him. + +"We've got it on you, Hull. Come through an' come clean." + +"I--I--I swear to God I didn't do it--didn't kill him," he gasped at +last. + +"Then who did--yore wife?" demanded Olson. + +"Neither of us. I--I'll tell you-all the whole story." + +"Do you know who did kill him?" Kirby persisted. + +"I come pretty near knowing but I didn't see it done." + +"Who, then?" + +"Yore cousin--James Cunningham." + + + + +CHAPTER XXXVII + +ON THE GRILL + +In spite of the fact that his mind had at times moved toward his cousin +James as the murderer, Kirby experienced a shock at this accusation. +He happened to glance at Olson, perhaps to see the effect of it upon +him. + +The effect was slight, but it startled Kirby. For just an instant the +Dry Valley farmer's eyes told the truth--shouted it as plainly as words +could have done. He had expected that answer from Hull. He had +expected it because he, too, had reason to believe it the truth. Then +the lids narrowed, and the man's lip lifted in a sneer of rejection. +He was covering up. + +"Pretty near up to you to find some one else to pass the buck to, ain't +it?" he taunted. + +"Suppose you tell us the whole story, Hull," the Wyoming man said. + +The fat man had one last flare of resistance. "Olson here says he seen +me crack Cunningham with the butt of my gun. How did he see me? Where +does he claim he was when he seen it?" + +"I was standin' on the fire escape of the Wyndham across the +alley--about ten or fifteen feet away. I heard every word that was +said by Cunningham an' yore wife. Oh, I've got you good." + +Hull threw up the sponge. He was caught and realized it. His only +chance now was to make a clean breast of what he knew. + +"Where shall I begin?" he asked weakly, his voice quavering. + +"At the beginning. We've got plenty of time," Kirby replied. + +"Well, you know how yore uncle beat me in that Dry Valley scheme of +his. First place, I didn't know he couldn't get water enough. If he +give the farmers a crooked deal, I hadn't a thing to do with that. +When I talked up the idea to them I was actin' in good faith." + +"Lie number one," interrupted Olson bitterly. + +"Hadn't we better let him tell his story in his own way?" Kirby +suggested. "If we don't start any arguments he ain't so liable to get +mixed up in his facts." + +"By my way of figurin' he owed me about four to six thousand dollars he +wouldn't pay," Hull went on. "I tried to get him to see it right, +thinkin' at first he was just bull-headed. But pretty soon I got wise +to it that he plain intended to do me. O' course I wasn't goin' to +stand for that, an' I told him so." + +"What do you mean when you say you weren't goin' to stand for it. My +uncle told a witness that you said you'd give him two days, then you'd +come at him with a gun." + +The fat man mopped a perspiring face with his bandanna. His eyes +dodged. "Maybe I told him so. I don't recollect. When he's sore a +fellow talks a heap o' foolishness. I wasn't lookin' for trouble, +though." + +"Not even after he threw you downstairs?" + +"No, sir. He didn't exactly throw me down. I kinda slipped. If I'd +been expectin' trouble would I have let Mrs. Hull go up to his rooms +with me?" + +Kirby had his own view on that point, but he did not express it. He +rather thought that Mrs. Hull had driven her husband upstairs and had +gone along to see that he stood to his guns. Once in the presence of +Cunningham, she had taken the bit in her own teeth, driven to it by +temper. This was his guess. He knew he might be wrong. + +"But I knew how violent he was," the fat man went on. "So I slipped my +six-gun into my pocket before we started." + +"What kind of a gun?" Kirby asked. + +"A sawed-off .38." + +"Do you own an automatic?" + +"No, sir. Wouldn't know how to work one. Never had one in my hands." + +"You'll get a chance to prove that," Olson jeered. + +"He doesn't have to prove it. His statement is assumed to be true +until it is proved false," Kirby answered. + +Hull's eyes signaled gratitude. He was where he needed a friend badly. +He would be willing to pay almost any price for Lane's help. + +"Cunningham had left the door open, I reckon because it was hot. I +started to push the bell, but Mrs. Hull she walked right in an' of +course then I followed. He wasn't in the sittin'-room, but we seen him +smokin' in the small room off'n the parlor. So we just went in on him. + +"He acted mean right from the start--hollered at Mrs. Hull what was we +doin' there. She up an' told him, real civil, that we wanted to talk +the business over an' see if we couldn't come to some agreement about +it. He kep' right on insultin' her, an' one thing led to another. +Mrs. Hull she didn't get mad, but she told him where he'd have to head +in at. Fact is, we'd about made up our minds to sue him. Well, he +went clean off the handle then, an' said he wouldn't do a thing for us, +an' how we was to get right out." + +Hull paused to wipe the small sweat beads from his forehead. He was +not enjoying himself. A cold terror constricted his heart. Was he +slipping a noose over his own head? Was he telling more than he +should? He wished his wife were here to give him a hint. She had the +brains as well as the courage and audacity of the family. + +"Well, sir, I claim self-defense," Hull went on presently. "A man's +got no call to stand by an' see his wife shot down. Cunningham reached +for a drawer an' started to pull out an automatic gun. Knowin' him, I +was scared. I beat him to it an' lammed him one over the head with my +gun. My idea was to head him off from drawin' on Mrs. Hull, but I +reckon I hit him harder than I'd aimed to. It knocked him senseless." + +"And then?" Kirby said, when he paused. + +"I was struck all of a heap, but Mrs. Hull she didn't lose her presence +of mind. She went to the window an' pulled down the curtain. Then we +figured, seein' as how we'd got in bad so far, we might as well try a +bluff. We tied yore uncle to the chair, intendin' for to make him sign +a check before we turned him loose. Right at that time the telephone +rang." + +"Did you answer the call?" + +"Yes, sir. It kept ringing. Finally the wife said to answer it, +pretendin' I was Cunningham. We was kinda scared some one might butt +in on us. Yore uncle had said he was expectin' some folks." + +"What did you do?" + +"I took up the receiver an' listened. Then I said, 'Hello!' Fellow at +the other end said, 'This you, Uncle James?' Kinda grufflike, I said, +'Yes.' Then, 'James talkin',' he said. 'We're on our way over now.' I +was struck all of a heap, not knowin' what to say. So I called back, +'Who?' He came back with, 'Phyllis an' I.' I hung up." + +"And then?" + +"We talked it over, the wife an' me. We didn't know how close James, +as he called himself, was when he was talkin'. He might be at the +drug-store on the next corner for all we knew. We were in one hell of +a hole, an' it didn't look like there was any way out. We decided to +beat it right then. That's what we did." + +"You left the apartment?" + +"Yes, sir." + +"With my uncle still tied up?" + +Hull nodded. "We got panicky an' cut our stick." + +"Did anybody see you go?" + +"The Jap janitor was in the hall fixin' one of the windows that was +stuck." + +"Did he say anything?" + +"Not then." + +"Afterward?" + +"He come to me after the murder was discovered--next day, I reckon it +was, in the afternoon, just before the inquest--and said could I lend +him five hundred dollars. Well, I knew right away it was a hold-up, +but I couldn't do a thing. I dug up the money an' let him have it." + +"Has he bothered you since?" + +Hull hesitated. "Well--no." + +"Meanin' that he has?" + +Hull flew the usual flag of distress, a red bandanna mopping a +perspiring, apoplectic face. "He kinda hinted he wanted more money." + +"Did you give it to him?" + +"I didn't have it right handy. I stalled." + +"That's the trouble with a blackmailer. Give way to him once an' he's +got you in his power," Kirby said. "The thing to do is to tell him +right off the reel to go to Halifax." + +"If a fellow can afford to," Olson put in significantly. "When you've +just got through a little private murder of yore own, you ain't exactly +free to tell one of the witnesses against you to go very far." + +"Tell you I didn't kill Cunningham," Hull retorted sullenly. "Some one +else must 'a' come in an' did that after I left." + +"Sounds reasonable," Olson murmured with heavy sarcasm. + +"Was the hall lit when you came out of my uncle's rooms?" Kirby asked +suddenly. + +"Yes. I told you Shibo was workin' at one of the windows." + +"So Shibo saw you and Mrs. Hull plainly?" + +"I ain't denyin' he saw us," Hull replied testily. + +"No, you don't deny anything we can prove on you," the Dry Valley man +jeered. + +"And Shibo didn't let up on you. He kept annoyin' you afterward," the +cattleman persisted. + +"Well, he--I reckon he aims to be reasonable now," Hull said uneasily. + +"Why now? What's changed his views?" + +The fat man looked again at this brown-faced youngster with the +single-track mind who never quit till he got what he wanted. Why was +he shaking the bones of Shibo's blackmailing. Did he know more than he +had told? It was on the tip of Hull's tongue to tell something more, a +damnatory fact against himself. But he stopped in time. He was in +deep enough water already. He could not afford to tell the dynamic +cattleman anything that would make an enemy of him. + +"Well, I reckon he can't get blood from a turnip, as the old sayin' +is," the land agent returned. + +Kirby knew that Hull was concealing something material, but he saw he +could not at the present moment wring it from him. He had not, in +point of fact, the faintest idea of what it was. Therefore he could +not lay 'hold of any lever with which to pry it loose. He harked back +to another point. + +"Do you know that my cousin and Miss Harriman came to see my uncle that +night? I mean do you know of your own eyesight that they ever reached +his apartment?" + +"Well, we know they reached the Paradox an' went up in the elevator. +Me an' the wife watched at the window. Yore cousin James wasn't with +Miss Harriman. The dude one was with her." + +"Jack!" exclaimed Kirby, astonished. + +"Yep." + +"How do you know? How did you recognize them?" + +"Saw 'em as they passed under the street light about twenty feet from +our window. We couldn't 'a' been mistook as to the dude fellow. O' +course we don't know Miss Harriman, but the woman walkin' beside the +young fellow surely looked like the one that fainted at the inquest +when you was testifyin' how you found yore uncle dead in the chair. I +reckon when you said it she got to seein' a picture of one of the young +fellows gunnin' their uncle." + +"One of them. You just said James wasn't with her." + +"No, he come first. Maybe three-four minutes before the others." + +"What time did he reach the Paradox?" + +"It might 'a' been ten or maybe only five minutes after we left yore +uncle's room. The wife an' me was talkin' it over whether I hadn't +ought to slip back upstairs and untie yore uncle before they got here. +Then he come an' that settled it. I couldn't go." + +"Can you give me the exact time he reached the apartment house?" + +"Well, I'll say it was a quarter to ten." + +"Do you know or are you guessin'?" + +"I know. Our clock struck the quarter to whilst we looked at them +comin' down the street." + +"At them or at him?" + +"At him, I mean." + +"Can't stick to his own story," Olson grunted. + +"A slip of the tongue. I meant him." + +"And Jack and the lady were three or four minutes behind him?" Kirby +reiterated. + +"Yes." + +"Was your clock exactly right?" + +"May be five minutes fast. It gains." + +"You know they turned in at the Paradox?" + +"All three of 'em. Mrs. Hull she opened the door a mite an' saw 'em go +up in the elevator. It moves kinda slow, you know. The heavy-set +young fellow went up first. Then two-three minutes later the elevator +went down an' the dude an' the young lady went up." + +Kirby put his foot on the cement bench and rested his forearm on his +knee. The cattleman's steady eyes were level with those of the unhappy +man making the confession. + +"Did you at any time hear the sound of a shot?" + +"Well, I--I heard somethin'. At the time I thought maybe it was a tire +in the street blowin' out. But come to think of it later we figured it +was a shot." + +"You don't know for sure." + +"Well, come to that I--I don't reckon I do. Not to say for certain +sure." + +A tense litheness had passed into the rough rider's figure. It was as +though every sense were alert to catch and register impressions. + +"At what time was it you thought you heard this shot?" + +"I dunno, to the minute." + +"Was it before James Cunningham went up in the elevator? Was it +between the time he went up an' the other two went up? Or was it after +Jack Cunningham an' Miss Harriman passed on the way up?" + +"Seems to me it was--" + +"Hold on." Kirby raised a hand in protest. "I don't want any guesses. +You know or you don't. Which is it?" + +"I reckon it was between the time yore cousin James went up an' the +others followed." + +"You reckon? I'm askin' for definite information. A man's life may +hang on this." The cattleman's eyes were ice-cold. + +Hull swallowed a lump in his fat throat before he committed himself. +"Well, it was." + +"Was between the two trips of the elevator, you mean?" + +"Yes." + +"Your wife heard this sound, too?" + +"Yep. We spoke of it afterward." + +"Do you know anything else that could possibly have had any bearing on +my uncle's death?" + +"No, sir. Honest I don't." + +Olson shot a question at the man on the grill. "Did you kill the Jap +servant, too, as well as his boss?" + +"I didn't kill either the one or the other, so help me." + +"Do you know anything at all about the Jap's death? Did you see +anything suspicious going on at any time?" Kirby asked. + +"No, sir. Nothin' a-tall." + +The rough rider signaled the taxicab, which was circling the lake at +the foot of the hill. Presently it came up the incline and took on its +passengers. + +"Drive to the Paradox Apartments," Kirby directed. + +He left Hull outside in the cab while he went in to interview his wife. +The lean woman with the forbidding countenance opened the door. + +Metaphorically speaking, Kirby landed his knockout instantly. "I've +come to see you on serious business, Mrs. Hull. Your husband has +confessed how he did for my uncle. Unless you tell the whole truth +he's likely to go to the death cell." + +She gasped, her fear-filled eyes fastened on him. Her hand moved +blindly to the side of the door for support. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXVIII + +A FULL MORNING + +But only for an instant. A faint color dribbled back into her yellow +cheeks. He could almost see courage flowing again into her veins. + +"That's a lie," she said flatly. + +"I don't expect you to take my word. Hull is in front of the house +here under guard. Come an' see if you doubt it." + +She took him promptly at his suggestion. One look at her husband's +fat, huddled figure and stricken face was enough. + +"You chicken-hearted louse," she spat at him scornfully. + +"They had evidence. A man saw us," he pleaded. + +"What man?" + +"This man." His trembling hand indicated Olson. "He was standin' on +the fire escape acrost the alley." + +She had nothing to say. The wind had died out of the sails of her +anger. + +"We're not goin' to arrest Hull yet--not technically," Kirby explained +to her. "I'm arrangin' to hire a private detective to be with him all +the time. He'll keep him in sight from mornin' till night. Is that +satisfactory, Hull? Or do you prefer to be arrested?" + +The wretched man murmured that he would leave it to Lane. + +"Good. Then that's the way it'll be." Kirby turned to the woman. +"Mrs. Hull, I want to ask you a few questions. If you'll kindly walk +into the house, please." + +She moved beside him. The shock of the surprise still palsied her will. + +In the main her story corroborated that of Hull. She was not quite +sure when she had heard the shot in its relation to the trips of the +elevator up and down. The door was closed at the time. They had heard +it while standing at the window. Her impression was that the sound had +come after James Cunningham had ascended to the floor above. + +Kirby put one question to the woman innocently that sent the color +washing out of her cheeks. + +"Which of you went back upstairs to untie my uncle after you had run +away in a fright?" + +"N-neither of us," she answered, teeth chattering from sheer funk. + +"I understood Mr. Hull to say--" + +"He never said that. Y-you must be mistaken." + +"Mebbeso. You didn't go back, then?" + +The monosyllable "No" came quavering from her yellow throat. + +"I don't want you to feel that I'm here to take an advantage of you, +Mrs. Hull," Kirby said. "A good many have been suspected of these +murders. Your husband is one of these suspects. I'm another. I mean +to find out who killed Cunningham an' Horikawa. I think I know +already. In my judgment your husband didn't do it. If he did, so much +the worse for him. No innocent person has anything to fear from me. +But this is the point I'm makin' now. If you like I'll leave a +statement here signed by me to the effect that neither you nor your +husband has confessed killing James Cunningham. It might make your +mind a little easier to have it." + +She hesitated. "Well, if you like." + +He stepped to a desk and found paper and pen. "I'll dictate it if +you'll write it, Mrs. Hull." + +Not quite easy in her mind, the woman sat down and took the pen he +offered. + +"This is to certify--" Kirby began, and dictated a few sentences slowly. + +She wrote the statement, word for word as he gave it, _using her left +hand_. The cattleman signed it. He left the paper with her. + +After the arrangement for the private detective to watch Hull had been +made, Olson and Lane walked together to the hotel of the latter. + +"Come up to my room a minute and let's talk things over," Kirby +suggested. + +As soon as the door was closed, the man from Twin Buttes turned on the +farmer and flung a swift demand at him. + +"Now, Olson, I'll hear the rest of your story." + +The eyes of the Swede grew hard and narrow. "What's bitin' you? I've +told you my story." + +"Some of it. Not all of it." + +"Whadjamean?" + +"You told me what you saw from the fire escape of the Wyndham, but _you +didn't tell what you saw from the fire escape of the Paradox_." + +"Who says I saw anything from there?" + +"I say so." + +"You tryin' to hang this killin' on me?" demanded Olson angrily. + +"Not if you didn't do it." Kirby looked at him quietly, speculatively, +undisturbed by the heaviness of his frown. "But you come to me an' +tell the story of what you saw. So you say. Yet all the time you're +holdin' back. Why? What's your reason?" + +"How do you know I'm holdin' back?" the ranchman asked sulkily. + +Kirby knew that in his mind suspicion, dread, fear, hatred, and the +desire for revenge were once more at open war. + +"I'll tell you what you did that night," answered Kirby, without the +least trace of doubt in voice or manner. "When Mrs. Hull pulled down +the blind, you ran up to the roof an' cut down the clothes-line. You +went back to the fire escape, fixed up some kind of a lariat, an' flung +the loop over an abutment stickin' from the wall of the Paradox. You +swung across to the fire escape of the Paradox. There you could see +into the room where Cunningham was tied to the chair." + +"How could I if the blind was down?" + +"The blind doesn't fit close to the woodwork of the window. Lookin' in +from the right, you can see the left half of the room. If you look in +from the other side, you see the other part of it. That's just what +you did." + +For the moment Olson was struck dumb. How could this man know exactly +what he had done unless some one had seen him? + +"You know so much I reckon I'll let you tell the rest," the +Scandinavian said with uneasy sarcasm. + +"Afraid you'll have to talk, Olson. Either to me or to the Chief at +headquarters. You've become a live suspect. Figure it out yourself. +You threaten Cunningham by mail. You make threats before people +orally. You come to Denver an' take a room in the next house to where +he lives. On the night he's killed, by your own admission, you stand +on the platform a few feet away an' raise no alarm while you see him +slugged. Later, you hear the shot that kills him an' still you don't +call the officers. Yet you're so interested in the crime that you run +upstairs, cut down the clothes-line, an' at some danger swing over to +the Paradox. The question the police will want to know is whether the +man who does this an' then keeps it secret may not have the best reason +in the world for not wanting it known." + +"What you mean--the best reason in the world?" + +"They'll ask what's to have prevented you from openin' the window an' +steppin' in while my uncle was tied up, from shootin' him an' slippin' +down the fire escape, an' from walkin' back upstairs to your own room +at the Wyndham." + +"Are you claimin' that I killed him?" Olson wanted to know. + +"I'm tellin' you that the police will surely raise the question." + +"If they do I'll tell 'em who did," the rancher blurted out wildly. + +"I'd tell 'em first, it I were in your place. It'll have a lot more +weight than if you keep still until your back's against the wall." + +"When I do you'll sit up an' take notice. The man who shot Cunningham +is yore own cousin," the Dry Valley man flung out vindictively. + +"Which one?" + +"The smug one--James." + +"You saw him do it?" + +"I heard the shot while I was on the roof. When I looked round the +edge of the blind five minutes later, he was goin' over the papers in +the desk--and an automatic pistol was there right by his hand." + +"He was alone?" + +"At first he was. In about a minute his brother an' Miss Harriman came +into the room. She screamed when she saw yore uncle an' most fainted. +The other brother, the young one, kinda caught her an' steadied her. +He was struck all of a heap himself. You could see that. He looked at +James, an' he said, 'My God, you didn't--' That was all. No need to +finish. O' course James denied it. He'd jumped up to help support +Miss Harriman outa the room. Maybe a coupla minutes later he came back +alone. He went right straight back to the desk, found inside of three +seconds the legal document I told you I'd seen his uncle reading +glanced it over, turned to the back page, jammed the paper back in the +cubby-hole, an' then switched off the light. A minute later the light +was switched off in the big room, too. Then I reckoned it was time to +beat it down the fire escape. I did. I went back into the Wyndham +carryin' the clothes-line under my coat, walked upstairs without +meetin' anybody, left the rope on the roof, an' got outa the house +without being seen." + +"That's the whole story?" Kirby said. + +"The whole story. I'd swear it on a stack of Bibles." + +"Did you fix the rope for a lariat up on the roof or wait till you came +back to the fire escape?" + +"I fixed it on the roof--made the loop an' all there. Figured I might +be seen if I stood around too long on the platform." + +"So that you must 'a' been away quite a little while." + +"I reckon so. Prob'ly a quarter of an hour or more." + +"Can you locate more definitely the exact time you heard the shot?" + +"No, I don't reckon I can." + +Kirby asked only one more question. + +"You left next mornin' for Dry Valley, didn't you?" + +"Yes. None o' my business if they stuck Hull for it. He was guilty as +sin, anyhow. If he didn't kill the old man, it wasn't because he +didn't want to. Maybe he did. The testimony at the inquest, as I read +the papers, left it that maybe the blow on the head had killed +Cunningham. Anyhow, I wasn't gonna mix myself in it." + +Kirby said nothing. He looked out of the window of his room without +seeing anything. His thoughts were focused on the problem before him. + +The other man stirred uneasily. "Think I did it?" he asked. + +The cattleman brought his gaze back to the Dry Valley settler. "You? +Oh, no! You didn't do it." + +There was such quiet certainty in his manner that Olson drew a deep +breath of relief. "By Jupiter, I'm glad to hear you say so. What made +you change yore mind?" + +"Haven't changed it. Knew that all the time--well, not all the time. +I was millin' you over in my mind quite a bit while you were holdin' +out on me. Couldn't be dead sure whether you were hidin' what you knew +just to hurt Hull or because of your own guilt." + +"Still, I don't see how you're sure yet. I might 'a' gone in by the +window an' gunned Cunningham like you said." + +"Yes, you might have, but you didn't. I'm not goin' to have you +arrested, Olson, but I want you to stay in Denver for a day or two +until this is settled. We may need you as a witness. It won't be +long. I'll see your expenses are paid while you're here." + +"I'm free to come an' go as I please?" + +"Absolutely." Kirby looked at him with level eyes. He spoke quite as +a matter of course. "You're no fool, Olson. You wouldn't stir up +suspicion against yourself again by runnin' away now, after I tell you +that my eye is on the one that did it." + +The Swede started. "You mean--now?" + +"Not this very minute," Kirby laughed. "I mean I've got the person +spotted, at least I think I have. I've made a lot of mistakes since I +started roundin' up this fellow with the brand of Cain. Maybe I'm +makin' another. But I've a hunch that I'm ridin' herd on the right one +this time." + +He rose. Olson took the hint. He would have liked to ask some +questions, for his mind was filled with a burning curiosity. But his +host's manner did not invite them. The rancher left. + +Up and down his room Kirby paced a beat from the window to the door and +back again. His mind was busy dissecting, analyzing, classifying. +Some one had once remarked that he had a single-track mind. In one +sense he had. The habit of it was to follow a train of thought to its +logical conclusion. He did not hop from one thing to another +inconsequently. + +Just now his brain was working on his cousin James. He went back to +the first day of his arrival in Denver and sifted the evidence for and +against him. A stream of details, fugitive impressions, and mental +reactions flooded through. + +For one of so cold a temperament James had been distinctly friendly to +him. He had gone out of his way to find bond for him when he had been +arrested. He had tried to smooth over difficulties between him and +Jack. But Kirby, against his desire, found practical reasons of policy +to explain these overtures. James had known he would soon be released +through the efforts of other cattlemen. He had stepped in to win the +Wyoming cousin's confidence in order that he might prove an asset +rather than a liability to his cause. The oil broker had readily +agreed to protect Esther McLean from publicity, but the reason for his +forbearance was quite plain now. He had been protecting himself, not +her. + +The man's relation to Esther proved him selfish and without principle. +He had been willing to let his dead uncle bear the odium of his +misdeed. Yet beneath the surface of his cold manner James was probably +swept by heady passions. His love for Phyllis Harriman had carried him +beyond prudence, beyond honor. He had duped the uncle whose good-will +he had carefully fostered for many years, and at the hour of his +uncle's death he had been due to reap the whirlwind. + +The problem sifted down to two factors. One was the time element. The +other was the temperament of James. A man may be unprincipled and yet +draw the line at murder. He may be a seducer and still lack the +courage and the cowardice for a cold-blooded killing. Kirby had +studied his cousin, but the man was more or less of a sphinx to him. +Behind those cold, calculating eyes what was he thinking? + +Only once had he seen him thrown off his poise. That was when Kirby +and Rose had met him coming out of the Paradox white and shaken, his +arm wrenched and strained. He had been nonplussed at sight of them. +For a moment he had let his eyes mirror the dismay of his soul. The +explanation he had given was quite inadequate as a cause. + +Twenty-four hours later Kirby had discovered the dead body of the +Japanese valet Horikawa. The man had been dead perhaps a day. More +hours than one had been spent by Kirby pondering on the possible +connection of his cousin's momentary breakdown and the servant's death. +_Had James come fresh from the murder of Horikawa_? + +It was possible that the Oriental might have held evidence against him +and threatened to divulge it. James, with the fear of death in his +heart, might have gone each day into the apartment where the man was +lurking, taking to him food and newspapers. They might have quarreled. +The strained tendons of Cunningham's arm could be accounted for a good +deal more readily on the hypothesis of a bit of expert jiu-jitsu than +on that of a fall downstairs. There were pieces in the puzzle Kirby +could not fit into place. One of them was to find a sufficient cause +for driving Horikawa to conceal himself when there was no evidence +against him of the crime. + +The time element was tremendously important in the solution of the +mystery of Cunningham's death. Kirby had studied this a hundred times. +On the back of an envelope he jotted down once more such memoranda as +he knew or could safely guess at. Some of these he had to change +slightly as to time to make them dovetail into each other. + + + 8.45. Uncle J. leaves City Club. + 8.55. Uncle J. reaches rooms. + 8.55- 9.10. Gets slippers, etc. Smokes. + 8.55- 9.20. Olson watching from W. fire escape. + 9.10- 9.30. Hulls in Apt. + 9.30- 9.40. _X_. + 9.37- 9.42. Approximately time Olson heard shot. + 9.20- 9.42. Olson busy on roof, with rope, etc. Then at + window till 9.53. + 9.40- 9.53. James in Apt. + 9.44- 9.50. Jack and Phyllis in Apt. + 9.55-10.05. Wild Rose in rooms. + 10.00. I reach rooms. + 10.20. Meet Ellis. + 10.25. Call police. + + +That was the time schedule as well as he had been able to work it out. +It was incomplete. For instance, he had not been able to account for +Horikawa in it at all unless he represented _X_ in that ten minutes of +time unaccounted for. It was inaccurate. Olson was entirely vague as +to time, but he could be checked up pretty well by the others. Hull +was not quite sure of his clock, and Rose could only say that she had +reached the Paradox "quite a little after a quarter to ten." +Fortunately his own arrival checked up hers pretty closely, since she +could not have been in the room much more than five minutes before him. +Probably she had been even less than that. James could not have left +the apartment more than a minute or so before Rose arrived. It was +quite possible that her coming had frightened him out. + +So far as the dovetailing of time went, there was only the ten minutes +or less between the leaving of the Hulls and the appearance of James +left unexplained. If some one other than those mentioned on his +penciled memoranda had killed Cunningham, it must have been between +half-past nine and twenty minutes to ten. The _X_ he had written in +there was the only possible unknown quantity. By the use of hard work +and common sense he had eliminated the rest of the time so far as +outsiders were concerned. + +Kirby put the envelope in his pocket and went out to get some luncheon. + +"I'll call it a mornin'," he told himself with a smile. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXIX + +KIRBY INVITES HIMSELF TO A RIDE + +The Twin Buttes man had said he would call it a morning, but he carried +with him to the restaurant the problem that had become the pivot of all +his waking thoughts. He had an appointment to meet a man for lunch, +and he found his guest waiting for him inside the door. + +The restaurant was an inconspicuous one on a side street. Kirby had +chosen it for that reason. The man who stepped into the booth with him +and sat down on the opposite seat was Hudson, the clerk whom James had +accused of losing the sheets of paper with the Japanese writing. + +"I've got it at last," he said as soon as he was alone. "Thought he +never would go out and leave the key to the private drawer inside the +safe. But he left the key in the lock--for just five minutes--while +Miss Harriman came to see him about something this morning. He walked +out with her to the elevator. I ducked into his office. There was the +key in the drawer, and in the drawer, right at the bottom under some +papers, I found what I wanted." + +He handed to Kirby the sheets of paper found in the living-room of the +apartment where Horikawa had been found dead. + +The cattleman looked them over and put them in his pocket. "Thought he +wouldn't destroy them. He daren't. There might come a time when the +translation of this writing would save his life. He couldn't tell what +the Jap had written, but there might be a twist to it favorable to him. +At the same time he daren't give it out and let any one translate it. +So he'd keep it handy where nobody could get at it but himself." + +"I reckon that just about evens the score between me and Mr. James +Cunningham," the clerk said vindictively. "He bawled me out before a +whole roomful of people when he knew all the time I hadn't lost the +papers. I stood it, because right then I had to. But I've dug up a +better job and start in on it Monday. He's been claiming he was so +anxious to get these sheets back to you. Well, I hope he's satisfied +now." + +"He had no right to keep 'em. They weren't his. I'll have 'em +translated, then turn the sheets over to the police if they have any +bearing on the case. Of course they may be just a private letter or +something of that sort." + +The clerk went on to defend himself for what he had done. Cunningham +had treated him outrageously. Besides, they weren't his papers. He +had no business to hold back evidence in a murder case because it did +not suit him to have it made public. Didn't Mr. Lane think he had done +right in taking the papers from the safe when he had a chance? + +Mr. Lane rather dodged the ethics of the case of Hudson. He had, of +course, instigated the theft of the papers. He was entitled to them. +James had appropriated them by a trick. Besides, it was a matter of +public and private justice that the whole Cunningham mystery be cleared +up as soon as possible. But he was not prepared to pass on Hudson's +right to be the instrument in the case. The man was, of course, a +confidential employee of the oil broker. There was one thing to be +said in his favor. Kirby had not offered him anything for what he had +done nor did he want anything in payment. It was wholly a gratuitous +service. + +The cattleman had made inquiries. He knew of a Japanese interpreter +used in the courts. Foster had recommended him as entirely reliable. +To this man Kirby went. He explained what he wanted. While the +Japanese clerk read in English the writing to him and afterward wrote +out on a typewriter the translation of it, Kirby sat opposite him at +the table to make sure that there was no juggling with the original +document. + +The affair was moving to its climax. Within a few hours now Kirby +expected to see the murderer of his uncle put under arrest. It was +time to take the Chief of Police into his confidence. He walked down +Sixteenth toward the City Hall. + +At Curtis Street the traffic officer was semaphoring with energetic +gesture the east and west bound vehicles to be on their way. Kirby +jaywalked across the street diagonally and passed in front of an +electric headed south. He caught one glimpse of the driver and stood +smiling at the door with his hat off. + +"I want to see you just a minute, Miss Harriman. May I come in?" + +Her long, dark eyes flashed at him. The first swift impulse was to +refuse. But she knew he was dangerous. He knew much that it was vital +to her social standing must not be published. She sparred for time. + +"What do you want?" + +He took this as an invitation and whipped open the door. + +"Better get out of the traffic," he told her. "Where we can talk +without being disturbed." + +She turned up Fifteenth. "If you have anything to say," she suggested, +and swept her long-lashed eyes round at him with the manner of delicate +disdain she held at command. + +"I've been wonderin' about somethin'," he said. "When James telephoned +my uncle, on the evenin' he was killed, that you an' he were on the way +to his rooms, he said you were together; but James reached there alone, +you an' Jack arrivin' a few minutes later. Did James propose that he +go first?" + +The young woman did not answer. But there was no longer disdain in her +fear-filled eyes. She swung the car, as though by a sudden impulse, to +the left and drove to the building where the older James Cunningham had +had his offices. + +"If you want to ask me questions you'd better ask them before Jack," +she said as she stepped out. + +"Suits me exactly," he agreed. + +Her lithe, long body moved beside him gracefully, its every motion +perfectly synchronized. In her close-fitting, stylish gown she was +extremely handsome. There was a kind of proud defiance in the set of +her oval jaw, as though even in the trouble that involved her she was a +creature set apart from others. + +"Mr. Lane has a question he wants to ask you, Jack," she said when they +were in the inner office. + +Kirby smiled, and in his smile there were friendliness and admiration. +"First off, I have to apologize for some things I said two days ago. +I'll eat humble pie. I accused you of somethin'. You're not the man, +I've found out." + +"Yes?" Jack, standing behind his desk in the slim grace of +well-dressed youth, watched him warily. + +"We've found out at last who the man is." + +"Indeed!" Jack knew that Esther McLean had been found by her friends +and taken away. No doubt she had told them her story. Did the +cattleman mean to expose James before the woman he knew to be his wife? +That wouldn't be quite what he would expect of Lane. + +"Incidentally, I have some news for you. One of your uncle's +stenographers, a Miss McLean, has just been married to a friend of +mine, the champion rough rider. Perhaps you may have heard of him. +His name is Cole Sanborn." + +Jack did not show the great relief he felt. "Glad to hear it," he said +simply. + +"Did we come here to discuss stenographers?" asked the young woman with +a little curl of the lip. "You mentioned a question, Mr. Lane. Hadn't +we better get that out of the way?" + +Kirby put to Jack the same query he had addressed to her. + +"What's the drift of this? What do you want to prove?" Jack asked +curtly. + +The eyes in the brown face plunged deep into those of Jack Cunningham. +"Not a thing. I've finished my case, except for a detail or two. +Within two hours the murderer of Uncle James will be arrested. I'm +offerin' you a chance to come through with what you know before it's +too late. You can kick in if you want to. You can stay out if you +don't. But don't say afterward I didn't give you a chance." + +"What kind of a chance are you giving me? Let's get clear on that. +Are you proposing I turn state's evidence on James? Is that what +you're driving at?" + +"Did James kill Uncle James?" + +"Of course he didn't, but you may have it in that warped mind of yours +that he did." + +"What I think doesn't matter. All that will count is the truth. It's +bound to come out. There are witnesses that saw you come to the +Paradox, a witness that actually saw you in uncle's rooms. If you +don't believe me, I'll tell you somethin'. When you an' Miss Harriman +came into the room where my uncle had been killed, James was sittin' at +the desk lookin' over papers. A gun was lyin' close by his hand. Miss +Harriman nearly fainted an' you steadied her." + +Miss Harriman, or rather Mrs. James Cunningham, nearly fainted again. +She caught at the back of a chair and stood rigid, looking at Kirby +with dilated, horror-filled eyes. + +"He knows everything--everything. I think he must be the devil," she +murmured from bloodless lips. + +Jack, too, was shaken, badly. "For God's sake, man, what do you know?" +he asked hoarsely. + +"I know so much that you can't safely keep quiet any longer. The whole +matter is goin' to the police. It's goin' to them this afternoon. +What are you goin' to do? If you refuse to talk, then it will be taken +to mean guilt." + +"Why should it go to the police? Be reasonable, man. James didn't do +it, but he's in an awful hole. No jury on earth would refuse to +convict him with the evidence you've piled up. Can't you see that?" + +Kirby smiled. This time his smile was grim. "I ought to know that +better than you. I'll give you two hours to decide. Meet you at +James's office then. There are some things we want to talk over alone, +but I think Miss Harriman had better be there ready to join us when we +send for her." + +"Going through with this, are you?" + +"I'm goin' through in spite of hell and high water." + +Jack strode up and down the room in a stress of emotion. "You're going +to ruin three lives because you're so pigheaded or because you want +your name in the papers as a great detective. Is there anything in the +world we can do to head you off?" + +"Nothin'. And if lives are ruined it's not my fault. I'll promise +this: The man or woman I point to as the one who killed Uncle James +will be the one that did it. If James is innocent, as you claim he is, +he won't have it saddled on him. Shall I tell you the thing that's got +you worried? Down in the bottom of your heart you're not dead sure he +didn't do it--either one of you." + +The young woman took a step toward Kirby, hands outstretched in dumb +pleading. She gave him her soft, appealing eyes, a light of proud +humility in them. + +"Don't do it!" she begged. "He's your own cousin--and my husband. I +love him. Perhaps there's some woman that loves you. If there is, +remember her and be merciful." + +His eyes softened. It was the first time he had seen her taken out of +her selfishness. She was one of those modern young women who take, but +do not give. At least that had been his impression of her. She had +specialized, he judged, in graceful and lovely self-indulgence. A part +of her code had been to get the best possible bargain for her charm and +beauty, and as a result of her philosophy of life time had already +begun to enamel on her a slight hardness of finish. Yet she had +married James instead of his uncle. She had risked the loss of a large +fortune to follow her heart. Perhaps, if children came, she might +still escape into the thoughts and actions that give life its true +value. + +A faint, sphinxlike smile touched his face. "No use worryin'. That +doesn't help any. I'll go as easy as I can. We'll meet in two hours +at James's office." + +He turned and left the room. + + + + +CHAPTER XL + +THE MILLS OF THE GODS + +Kirby Lane did not waste the two hours that lay before the appointment +he had made for a meeting at the office of his cousin James. He had a +talk with the Hulls and another with the Chief of Police. He saw Olson +and Rose McLean. He even found the time to forge two initials at the +foot of a typewritten note on the stationery of James Cunningham, and +to send the note to its destination by a messenger. + +Rose met him by appointment at the entrance to the Equitable Building +and they rode up in the elevator together to the office of his cousin. +Miss Harriman, as she still called herself in public, was there with +Jack and her husband. + +James was ice-cold. He bowed very slightly to Rose. Chairs were +already placed. + +For a moment Kirby was embarrassed. He drew James aside. Cunningham +murmured an exchange of sentences with his wife, then escorted her to +the door. Rose was left with the three cousins. + +"I suppose Jack has told you of the marriage of Esther McLean," Kirby +said as soon as the door had been closed. + +James bowed, still very stiffly. + +Kirby met him, eye to eye. He spoke very quietly and clearly. "I want +to open the meetin' by tellin' you on behalf of this young woman an' +myself that we think you an unmitigated cur. We are debarred from +sayin' so before your wife, but it's a pleasure to tell you so in +private. Is that quite clear?" + +The oil broker flushed darkly. He made no answer. "You not only took +advantage of a young woman's tender heart. You were willin' our dead +uncle should bear the blame for it. Have you any other word than the +one I have used to suggest as a more fittin' one?" the Wyoming man +asked bitingly. + +Jack answered for his brother. "Suppose we pass that count of the +indictment, unless you have a practical measure to suggest in +connection with it. We plead guilty." + +There wag a little gleam of mirth in Kirby's eyes. "You an' I have +discussed the matter already, Jack. I regret I expressed my opinion so +vigorously then. We have nothin' practical to suggest, if you are +referrin' to any form of compensation. Esther is happily married, +thank God. All we want is to make it perfectly plain what we think of +Mr. James Cunningham." + +James acknowledged this and answered. "That is quite clear. I may say +that I entirely concur in your estimate of my conduct. I might make +explanations, but I can make none that justify me to myself." + +"In that case we may consider the subject closed, unless Miss McLean +has something to say." + +Kirby turned to Rose. She looked at James Cunningham, and he might +have been the dirt under her feet. "I have nothing whatever to say, +Kirby. You express my sentiments exactly." + +"Very well. Then we might open the door and invite in Miss Harriman. +There are others who should be along soon that have a claim also to be +present." + +"What others?" asked Jack Cunningham. + +"The other suspects in the case. I prefer to have them all here." + +"Any one else?" + +"The Chief of Police." + +James looked at him hard. "This is not a private conference, then?" + +"That's a matter of definitions. I have invited only those who have a +claim to be present," Kirby answered. + +"To my office, I think." + +"If you prefer the Chief's office we'll adjourn an' go there." + +The broker shrugged. "Oh, very well." + +Kirby stepped to the door connecting with an outer office and threw it +open. Mr. and Mrs. Hull, Olson, and the Chief of Police followed +Phyllis Harriman into the room. More chairs were brought in. + +The Chief sat nearest the door, one leg thrown lazily across the other. +He had a fat brown cigar in his hand. Sometimes he chewed on the end +of it, but he was not smoking. He was an Irishman, and as it happened +open-minded. He liked this brown-faced young fellow from +Wyoming--never had believed him guilty from the first. Moreover, he +was willing his detective bureau should get a jolt from an outsider. +It might spur them up in future. + +"Chief, is there anything you want to say?" Kirby asked. + +"Not a wor-rd. I'm sittin' in a parquet seat. It's your show, son." + +Kirby's disarming smile won the Chief's heart. "I want to say now that +I've talked with the Chief several times. He's given me a lot of good +tips an' I've worked under his direction." + +The head of the police force grinned. The tips he had given Lane had +been of no value, but he was quite willing to take any public credit +there might be. He sat back and listened now while Kirby told his +story. + +"Outside of the Chief every one here is connected closely with this +case an' is involved in it. It happens that every man an' woman of us +were in my uncle's apartments either at the time of his death or just +before or after." Kirby raised a hand to meet Olson's protest. "Oh, I +know. You weren't in the rooms, but you were on the fire escape +outside. From the angle of the police you may have been in. All you +had to do was to pass through an open window." + +There was a moment's silence, while Kirby hesitated in what order to +tell his facts. Hull mopped the back of his overflowing neck. Phyllis +Cunningham moistened her dry lips. A chord in her throat ached tensely. + +"Suspicion fell first on me an' on Hull," Kirby went on. "You've seen +it all thrashed out in the papers. I had been unfriendly to my uncle +for years, an' I was seen goin' to his rooms an' leavin' them that +evening. My own suspicion was directed to Hull, especially when he an' +Mrs. Hull at the coroner's inquest changed the time so as to get me +into my uncle's apartment half an hour earlier than I had been there. +I'd caught them in a panic of terror when I knocked on their door. +They'd lied to get me into trouble. Hull had quarreled with Uncle +James an' had threatened to go after him with a gun in _two days_ after +that time--and it was _just forty-eight hours later he was killed_. It +looked a lot like Hull to me. + +"I had one big advantage, Chief, a lot of inside facts not open to +you," the cattleman explained. "I knew, for instance, that Miss McLean +here had been in the rooms just before me. She was the young woman my +uncle had the appointment to meet there before ten o'clock. You will +remember Mr. Blanton's testimony. Miss McLean an' I compared notes, so +we were able to shave down the time during which the murder must have +taken place. We worked together. She gave me other important data. +Perhaps she had better tell in her own words about the clue she found +that we followed." + +Rose turned to the Chief. Her young face flew a charming flag of +color. Her hair, in crisp tendrils beneath the edge of the small hat +she wore, was the ripe gold of wheat-tips in the shock. The tender +blue of violets was in her eyes. + +"I told you about how I found Mr. Cunningham tied to his chair, Chief. +I forgot to say that in the living-room there was a faint odor of +perfume. On my way upstairs I passed in the dark a man and a woman. I +had got a whiff of the same perfume then. It was violet. So I knew +they had been in the apartment just before me. Mr. Lane discovered +later that Miss Harriman used that scent." + +"Which opened up a new field of speculation," Kirby went on. "We began +to run down facts an' learned that my cousin James had secretly married +Miss Harriman at Golden a month before. My uncle had just learned the +news. He had a new will made by his lawyer, one that cut James off +without a cent an' left his property to Jack Cunningham." + +"That will was never signed," Jack broke in quickly. + +Kirby looked at Jack and smiled cynically. "No, it was never signed. +Your brother discovered that when he looked the will over at Uncle's +desk a few minutes after his death." + +James did not wink an eye in distress. The hand of the woman sitting +beside him went out instantly to his in a warm, swift pressure. She +was white to the lips, but her thought was for the man she loved and +not for herself. Kirby scored another mark to her credit. + +"Cumulative evidence pointed to James Cunningham," continued Kirby. +"He tried to destroy the proof of his marriage to Miss Harriman. He +later pretended to lose an important paper that might have cleared up +the case. He tried to get me to drop the matter an' go back to +Wyoming. The coil wound closer round him. + +"About this time another factor attracted my attention. I had the good +luck to unearth at Dry Valley the man who had written threatenin' +letters to my uncle an' to discover that he was stayin' next door to +the Paradox the very night of the murder. More, my friend Sanborn an' +I guessed he had actually been on the fire escape of the Wyndham an' +seen somethin' of importance through the window. Later I forced a +statement from Olson. He told all he had seen that night." + +Kirby turned to the rancher from Dry Valley and had him tell his story. +When he had finished, the cattleman made comment. + +"On the face of it Olson's story leaves in doubt the question of who +actually killed my uncle. If he was tellin' the whole truth, his +evidence points either to the Hulls or my cousin James. But it was +quite possible he had seen my uncle tied up an' helpless, an' had +himself stepped through the window an' shot him. Am I right, Chief?" + +The Chief nodded grimly. "Right, son." + +"You told me you didn't think I did it," Olson burst out bitterly. + +"An' I tell you so again," Kirby answered, smiling. "I was mentionin' +possibilities. On your evidence it lies between my cousin James an' +the Hulls. It was the Hulls that had tied him up after Cass Hull +knocked him senseless. It was Hull who had given him two days more to +live. And that's not all. Not an hour an' a half ago I had a talk +with Mrs. Hull. She admitted, under pressure, _that she returned to my +uncle's apartment again to release him from the chair_. She was alone +with him, an' he was wholly in her power. She is a woman with a +passionate sense of injury. What happened then nobody else saw." + +Mrs. Hull opened her yellow, wrinkled lips to speak, but Kirby checked +her. "Not yet, Mrs. Hull. I'll return to the subject. If you wish +you can defend yourself then." + +He stopped a second time to find the logical way of proceeding with his +story. The silence in the room was tense. The proverbial pin could +have been heard. Only one person in the room except Kirby knew where +the lightning was going to strike. That person sat by the door chewing +the end of a cigar impassively. A woman gave a strangled little sob of +pent emotion. + +"I've been leaving Horikawa out of the story," the cattleman went on. +"I've got to bring him in now. He's the hinge on which it all swings. +_The man or woman that killed my uncle killed Horikawa too_." + +James Cunningham, sitting opposite Kirby with his cold eyes steadily +fixed on him, for the first time gave visible sign of his anxiety. It +came in the form of a little gulping sound in his throat. + +"Cole Sanborn and I found Horikawa in the room where he had been +killed. The doctors thought he must have been dead about a day. Just +a day before this time Miss McLean an' I met James Cunningham comin' +out of the Paragon. He was white an' shaking. He was sufferin' from +nausea, an' his arm was badly strained. He explained it by sayin' he +had fallen downstairs. Later, I wondered about that fall. I'm still +wonderin'. Had he just come out of the apartment where Horikawa was +hidin'? Had the tendons of that arm been strained by a jiu-jitsu +twist? _And had he left Horikawa behind him dead on the bed?_" + +James, white to the lips, looked steadily at his cousin. "A very +ingenious theory. I've always complimented you on your imagination," +he said, a little hoarsely, as though from a parched throat. + +"You do not desire to make any explanation?" Kirby asked. + +"Thanks, no. I'm not on trial for my life here, am I?" answered the +oil broker quietly, with obvious irony. + +His wife was sobbing softly. The man's arm went round her and +tightened in wordless comfort. + +From his pocket Kirby drew the envelope upon which he had a few hours +earlier penciled the time schedule relating to his uncle's death. + +"One of the points that struck me earliest about this mystery was that +the man who solved it would have to work out pretty closely the time +element. Inside of an hour ten people beside Uncle James were in his +rooms. They must 'a' trod on each other's heels right fast, I figured. +So I checked up the time as carefully as I could. Here's the schedule +I made out. Mebbe you'd like to see it." He handed the envelope to +James. + +Jack rose and looked over his brother's shoulder. His quick eye ran +down the list. "I get the rest of it," he said. "But what does _X_ +mean?" + +"_X_ is the ten minutes of Uncle's time I can't account for. Some of +us were with him practically every other minute. _X_ is the whole +unknown quantity. It is the time in which he was prob'ly actually +killed. It is the man who _may_, by some thousandth chance, have +stepped into the room an' killed him while none of us were present," +explained Kirby. + +"If there is such an unknown man you can cut the time down to five +minutes instead of ten, providing your schedule is correct," James cut +in. "For according to it I was there part of the time and Mrs. Hull +part of the rest of it." + +"Yes," agreed his cousin. + +"But you may have decided that Mrs. Hull is _X_ or that I am," jeered +James. "If so, of course that ends it. No need for a judge or jury." + +Kirby turned to the man by the door. "Chief, one of the queer things +about this mystery is that all the witnesses had somethin' to conceal. +Go right through the list, an' it's true of every one of us. I'm +talkin' about the important witnesses, of course. Well, Cole an' I +found a paper in the living-room of the apartment where Horikawa was +killed. It was in Japanese. I ought to have turned it over to you, +but I didn't. I was kinda playin' a lone hand. At that time I didn't +suspect my cousin James at all. We were workin' together on this +thing. At least I thought so. I found out better later. I took the +paper to him to get it translated, thinkin' maybe Horikawa might have +written some kind of a confession. James lost that paper. Anyhow, he +claimed he did. My theory is that Horikawa had some evidence against +him. He was afraid of what that paper would tell." + +"Unfortunately for your theory it was a clerk of mine who lost the +paper. I had nothing to do with it," James retorted coldly. "No doubt +the paper has been destroyed, but not by me. Quite by accident, I +judge." + +His cousin let off a bomb beneath the broker's feet. "You'll be glad +to know that the paper wasn't destroyed," he said. "I have it, with a +translation, in my pocket at the present moment." + +James clutched the arms of his chair. His knuckles grew white with the +strain. "Where--where did you find it?" he managed to say. + +"In the most private drawer of your safe, where you hid it," Kirby +replied quietly. + +Cunningham visibly fought for his composure. He did not speak until he +had perfect self-control. Then it was with a sneer. + +"And this paper which you allege you found in my safe--after a burglary +which, no doubt, you know is very much against the law--does it convict +me of the murder of my uncle?" + +The tension in the room was nerve-shattering. Men and women suspended +breathing while they waited for an answer. + +"On the contrary, it acquits you of any guilt whatever in the matter." + +Phyllis Cunningham gave a broken little sob and collapsed into her +husband's arms. Jack rose, his face working, and caught his brother by +the shoulder. These two had suffered greatly, not only because of +their fear for him, but because of the fear of his guilt that had +poisoned their peace. + +James, too, was moved, as much by their love for him as by the sudden +relief that had lifted from his heart. But his pride held him +outwardly cold. + +"Since you've decided I didn't do it, Mr. Lane, perhaps you'll tell us +then who did," he suggested presently. + +There came a knock at the door. + +A whimsical smile twitched at the corners of Kirby's mouth. He did not +often have a chance for dramatics like this. + +"Why, yes, that seems fair enough," he answered. + +"He's knockin' at the door now. Enter _X_." + + + + +CHAPTER XLI + +ENTER X + +Shibo stood on the threshold and sent a swift glance around the room. +He had expected to meet James alone. That first slant look of the long +eyes forewarned him that Nemesis was at hand. But he faced without a +flicker of the lids the destiny he had prepared for himself. + +"You write me note come see you now," he said to Cunningham. + +James showed surprise. "No, I think not." + +"You no want me?" + +The Chief's hand fell on the shoulder of the janitor. "_I_ want you, +Shibo." + +"You write me note come here now?" + +"No, I reckon Mr. Lane wrote that." + +"I plenty busy. What you want me for?" + +"For the murders of James Cunningham and Horikawa." Before the words +were out of his mouth the Chief had his prisoner handcuffed. + +Shibo turned to Kirby. "You tellum police I killum Mr. Cunnin'lam and +Horikawa?" + +"Yes." + +"I plenty sorry I no kill you." + +"You did your best, Shibo. Took three shots at ten feet. Rotten +shooting." + +"Do you mean that he actually tried to kill you?" James asked in +surprise. + +"In the Denmark Building, the other night, at eleven o'clock. And I'll +say he made a bad mistake when he tried an' didn't get away with it. +For I knew that the man who was aimin' to gun me was the same one that +had killed Uncle James. He'd got to worryin' for fear I was followin' +too hot a trail." + +"Did you recognize him?" Jack said. + +"Not right then. I was too busy duckin' for cover. Safety first was +my motto right then. No, when I first had time to figure on who could +be the gentleman that was so eager to make me among those absent, I +rather laid it to Cousin James, with Mr. Cass Hull second on my list of +suspects. The fellow had a searchlight an' he flashed it on me. I +could see above it a bandanna handkerchief over the face. I'd seen a +bandanna like it in Hull's hands. But I had to eliminate Hull. The +gunman on the stairs had small, neat feet, no larger than a woman's. +Hull's feet are--well, sizable." + +They were. Huge was not too much to call them. + +As a dozen eyes focused on his boots the fat man drew them back of the +rungs of his chair. This attention to personal details of his +conformation was embarrassing. + +"Those small feet stuck in my mind," Kirby went on. "Couldn't seem to +get rid of the idea. They put James out of consideration, unless, of +course, he had hired a killer, an' that didn't look reasonable to me. +I'll tell the truth. I thought of Mrs. Hull dressed as a man--an' then +I thought of Shibo." + +"Had you suspected him before?" This from Olson. + +"Not of the murders. I had learned that he had seen the Hulls come +from my uncle's rooms an' had kept quiet. Hull admitted that he had +been forced to bribe him. I tackled Shibo with it an' threatened to +tell the police. Evidently he became frightened an' tried to murder +me. I got a note makin' an appointment at the Denmark Building at +eleven in the night. The writer promised to tell me who killed my +uncle. I took a chance an' went." The cattleman turned to Mrs. Hull. +"Will you explain about the note, please?" + +The gaunt, tight-lipped woman rose, as though she had been called on at +school to recite. "I wrote the note," she said. "Shibo made me. I +didn't know he meant to kill Mr. Lane. He said he'd tell everything if +I didn't." + +She sat down. She had finished her little piece. + +"So I began to focus on Shibo. He might be playin' a lone hand, or he +might be a tool of my cousin James. A detective hired by me saw him +leave James's office. That didn't absolutely settle the point. He +might have seen somethin' an' be blackmailin' him too. That was the +way of it, wasn't it?" He turned point-blank to Cunningham. + +"Yes," the broker said. "He had us right--not only me, but Jack and +Phyllis, too. I couldn't let him drag her into it. The day you saw me +with the strained tendon I had been with him and Horikawa in the +apartment next to the one Uncle James rented. We quarreled. I got +furious and caught Shibo by the throat to shake the little scoundrel. +He gave my arm some kind of a jiu-jitsu twist. He was at me every day. +He never let up. He meant to bleed me heavily. We couldn't come to +terms. I hated to yield to him." + +"And did you?" + +"I promised him an answer soon." + +"No doubt he came to-day thinkin' he was goin' to get it." Kirby went +back to the previous question. "Next time I saw Shibo I took a look at +his feet. He was wearin' a pair o' shoes that looked to me mighty like +those worn by the man that ambushed me. They didn't have any cap +pieces across the toes. I'd noticed that even while he was shootin' at +me. It struck me that it would be a good idea to look over his +quarters in the basement. Shibo has one human weakness. He's a +devotee of the moving pictures. Nearly every night he takes in a show +on Curtis Street. The Chief lent me a man, an' last night we went +through his room at the Paradox. We found there a flashlight, a +bandanna handkerchief with holes cut in it for the eyes, an' in the +mattress two thousand dollars in big bills. We left them where we +found them, for we didn't want to alarm Shibo." + +The janitor looked at him without emotion. "You plenty devil man," he +said. + +"We hadn't proved yet that Shibo was goin' it alone," Kirby went on, +paying no attention to the interruption. "Some one might be usin' him +as a tool. Horikawa's confession clears that up." + +Kirby handed to the Chief of Police the sheets of paper found in the +apartment where the valet was killed. Attached to these by a clip was +the translation. The Chief read this last aloud. + +Horikawa, according to the confession, had been in Cunningham's rooms +sponging and pressing a suit of clothes when the promoter came home on +the afternoon of the day of his death. Through a half-open door he had +seen his master open his pocket-book and count a big roll of bills. +The figures on the outside one showed that it was a treasury note for +fifty dollars. The valet had told Shibo later and they had talked it +over, but with no thought in Horikawa's mind of robbery. + +He was helping Shibo fix a window screen at the end of the hall that +evening when they saw the Hulls come out of Cunningham's apartment. +Something furtive in their manner struck the valet's attention. It was +in the line of his duties to drop in and ask whether the promoter's +clothes needed any attention for the next day. He discovered after he +was in the living-room that Shibo was at his heels. They found +Cunningham trussed up to a chair in the smaller room. He was +unconscious, evidently from a blow in the head. + +The first impulse of Horikawa had been to free him and carry him to the +bedroom. But Shibo interfered. He pushed his hand into the pocket of +the smoking-jacket and drew out a pocket-book. It bulged with bills. +In two sentences Shibo sketched a plan of operations. They would steal +the money and lay the blame for it on the Hulls. Cunningham's own +testimony would convict the fat man and his wife. The evidence of the +two Japanese would corroborate his. + +Cunningham's eyelids flickered. There was a bottle of chloroform on +the desk. The promoter had recently suffered pleurisy pains and had +been advised by his doctor to hold a little of the drug against the +place where they caught him most sharply. Shibo snatched up the +bottle, drenched a handkerchief with some of its contents, and dropped +the handkerchief over the wounded man's face. + +A drawer was open within reach of Cunningham's hand. In it lay an +automatic pistol The two men were about to hurry away. Shibo turned at +the door. To his dismay he saw that the handkerchief had slipped from +Cunningham's face and the man was looking at him. He had recovered +consciousness. + +Cunningham's eyes condemned him to death. In their steely depths there +was a gleam of triumph. He was about to call for help. Shibo knew +what that meant. He and Horikawa were in a strange land. They would +be sent to prison, an example made of them because they were +foreigners. Automatically, without an instant of delay, he acted to +protect himself. + +Two strides took him back to Cunningham. He reached across his body +for the automatic and sent a bullet into the brain of the man bound to +the chair. + +Horikawa, to judge by his confession, was thunderstruck. He was an +amiable little fellow who never had stepped outside the law. Now he +was caught in the horrible meshes of a murder. He went to pieces and +began to sob. Shibo stopped him sharply. + +Then they heard some one coming. It was too late to get away by the +door. They slipped through the window to the fire escape and from it +to the window of the adjoining apartment. Horikawa, still sick with +fear, stumbled against the rail as he clambered over it and cut his +face badly. + +Shibo volunteered to go downstairs and get him some sticking plaster. +On the way down Shibo had met the younger James Cunningham as he came +out of the elevator. Returning with first-aid supplies a few minutes +later, he saw Jack and Phyllis. + +It was easy to read between the lines that Shibo's will had dominated +Horikawa. He had been afraid that his companion's wounded face would +lead to his arrest. If so, he knew it would be followed by a +confession. He forced Horikawa to hide in the vacant apartment till +the wound should heal. Meanwhile he fed him and brought him newspapers. + +There were battles of will between the two. Horikawa was terribly +frightened when he read that his flight had brought suspicion on him. +He wanted to give himself up at once to the police. They quarreled. +Shibo always gained the temporary advantage, but he saw that under a +grilling third degree his countryman would break down. He killed +Horikawa because he knew he could not trust him. + +This last fact was not, of course, in Horikawa's confession. But the +dread of it was there. The valet had come to fear Shibo. He was +convinced in his shrinking heart that the man meant to get rid of him. +It was under some impulse of self-protection that he had written the +statement. + +Shibo heard the confession read without the twitching of a facial +muscle. He shrugged his shoulders, accepting the inevitable with the +fatalism of his race. + +"He weak. He no good. He got yellow streak. I bossum," was his +comment. + +"Did you kill him?" asked the Chief. + +"I killum both--Cunnin'lam and Horikawa. You kill me now maybe yes." + +Officers led him away. + +Phyllis Cunningham came up to Kirby and offered him her hand. "You're +hard on James. I don't know why you're so hard. But you've cleared us +all. I say thanks awf'ly for that. I've been horribly frightened. +That's the truth. It seemed as though there wasn't any way out for us. +Come and see us and let's all make up, Cousin Kirby." + +Kirby did not say he would. But he gave her his strong grip and +friendly smile. Just then his face did not look hard. He could not +tell her why he had held his cousin on the grill so long, that it had +been in punishment for what he had done to a defenseless friend of his +in the name of love. What he did say suited her perhaps as well. + +"I like you better right now than I ever did before, Cousin Phyllis. +You're a good little sport an' you'll do to ride the river with." + +Jack could not quite let matters stand as they did. He called on Kirby +that evening at his hotel. + +"It's about James I want to see you," he said, then stuck for lack of +words with which to clothe his idea. He prodded at the rug with the +point of his cane. + +"Yes, about James," Kirby presently reminded him, smiling. + +"He's not so bad as you think he is," Jack blurted out. + +"He's as selfish as the devil, isn't he?" + +"Well, he is, and he isn't. He's got a generous streak in him. You +may not believe it, but he went on your bond because he liked you." + +"Come, Jack, you're tryin' to seduce my judgment by the personal +appeal," Kirby answered, laughing. + +"I know I am. What I want to say is this. I believe he would have +married Esther McLean if it hadn't been for one thing. He fell +desperately in love with Phyllis afterward. The odd thing is that she +loves him, too. They didn't dare to be above-board about it on account +of Uncle James. They treated him shabbily, of course. I don't deny +that." + +"You can hardly deny that," Kirby agreed. + +"But, damn it, one swallow doesn't make a summer. You've seen the +worst side of him all the way through." + +"I dare say I have." Kirby let his hand fall on the well-tailored +shoulder of his cousin. "But I haven't seen the worst side of his +brother Jack. He's a good scout. Come up to Wyoming this fall an' +we'll go huntin' up in the Jackson Hole country. What say?" + +"Nothing I'd like better," answered Jack promptly. + +"We'll arrange a date later. Just now I've got to beat it. Goin' +drivin' with a lady." + +Jack scored for once. "_She's_ a good scout, too." + +"If she isn't, I'll say there never was one," his cousin assented. + + + + +CHAPTER XLII + +THE NEW WORLD + +Kirby took his lady love driving in a rented flivver. It was a +Colorado night, with a young moon looking down through the cool, rare +atmosphere found only in the Rockies. He drove her through the city to +Berkeley and up the hill to Inspiration Point. + +They talked only in intermittent snatches. Rose had the gift of +comradeship. Her tongue never rattled. With Kirby she did not need to +make talk. They had always understood each other without words. + +But to-night their silences were filled with new and awkward +significances. She guessed that an emotional crisis was at hand. With +all her heart she welcomed and shrank from it. For she knew that after +to-night life could never be the same to her. It might be fuller, +deeper, happier, but it could not hold for her the freedom she had +guarded and cherished. + +At the summit he killed the engine. They looked across the valley to +the hills dimmed by night's velvet dusk. + +"We're through with all that back there," he said, and she knew he +meant the tangled trails of the past weeks into which their fate had +led them. "We don't have to keep our minds full of suspicions an' try +to find out things in mean, secret ways. There, in front of us, is +God's world, waitin' for you an' me, Rose." + +Though she had expected it, she could not escape a sense of suddenly +stilled pulses followed by a clamor of beating blood. She quivered, +vibrating, trembling. She was listening to the call of mate to mate +sounding clear above all the voices of the world. + +A flash of soft eyes darted at him. He was to be her man, and the +maiden heart thrilled at the thought. She loved all of him she +knew--his fine, clean thoughts, his brave and virile life, the splendid +body that was the expression of his personality. There was a line of +golden down on his cheek just above where he had shaved. Her warm eyes +dared to linger fondly there, for he was still gazing at the mountains. + +His eyes came home to her, and as he looked he knew he longed for her +in every fiber of his being. + +He asked no formal question. She answered none. Under the steady +regard of his eyes she made a small, rustling movement toward him. Her +young and lissom body was in his arms, a warm and palpitating thing of +life and joy. He held her close. Her eyelashes swept his cheek and +sent a strange, delightful tingle through his blood. + +Kirby held her head back and looked into her eyes again. Under the +starlight their lips slowly met. + +The road lay clear before them after many tangled trails. + + + +***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK TANGLED TRAILS*** + + +******* This file should be named 17066.txt or 17066.zip ******* + + +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: +https://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/1/7/0/6/17066 + + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. Special rules, +set forth in the General Terms of Use part of this license, apply to +copying and distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works to +protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm concept and trademark. 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