TANGLED TRAILS

A Western Detective Story

by

WILLIAM MACLEOD RAINE

Author ofThe Big-Town Round-Up, Gunsight Pass, Etc. 

Grosset & DunlapPublishers New YorkMade in the United States of AmericaCopyright, 1921, by William Macleod RaineAll Rights ReservedThird 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 iton the desk before him and stood waiting, timidly, afraid to voice herdemand for justice, yet too desperately anxious to leave with itunspoken. 

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 fortunestood her friend she was a predestined victim to the world's selfishlove of pleasure, and fortune, with a cynical smile, had stood asideand let her go her way. 

"I . . . I . . . " A wave of color flooded her face. She twisted a ragof 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--?" Therewas a wail of despair in the unfinished sentence. 

James Cunningham was a grim, gray pirate, as malleable as cast iron andas soft. He was a large, big-boned man, aggressive, dominant, the kindthat takes the world by the throat and shakes success from it. Thecontour 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 foryou 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. Tearsbrimmed the brown eyes of the girl. She bit her lower lip, choked backa 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 hadloved was leaving her to face alone a night as bleak as death. 

Cunningham had always led a life of intelligent selfishness. He hadusually got what he wanted because he was strong enough to take it. Noscrupulous nicety of means had ever deterred him. Nor ever would. Heplayed 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 inthe sight of the city and state. Long ago he had made up his mind thataltruism was weakness. 

He went through his mail with a swift, trained eye. One of the lettershe laid aside and glanced at a second time. It brought a grim, hardsmile to his lips. A paragraph read:

There's no water in your ditch and our crops are burning up. Yourwhole irrigation system in Dry Valley is a fake. You knew it, but wedidn'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 aclipping from a small-town paper telling of a meeting of farmers to askthe United States District Attorney for an investigation of the DryValley irrigation project promoted by James Cunningham. 

The promoter smiled. He was not afraid of the Government. He had keptstrictly within the law. It was not his fault there was not enoughrainfall in the watershed to irrigate the valley. But the threat todry-gulch him was another matter. He had no fancy for being shot inthe back. Some crazy fool of a settler might do just that. He decidedto let an agent attend to his Dry Valley affairs hereafter. Hedictated some letters, closed his desk, and went down the street towardthe City Club. At a florist's he stopped and ordered a box of AmericanBeauties to be sent to Miss Phyllis Harriman. With these he enclosedhis card, a line of greeting scrawled on it. 

A poker game was on at the club and Cunningham sat in. He interruptedit 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 mainchance and he nearly always won. In spite of his loud and frequentlaugh, of the effect of bluff geniality, there was no genuine humor inthe man, none of the milk of human kindness. 

A lawyer in the reading-room rose at sight of Cunningham. "Want to seeyou 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 beprivate. 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. Bychance I ran across a record that astonished me. It may be only acoincidence of names, but--"

"Now you've wrapped up the blackjack so that it won't hurt, suppose yougo 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 offeeling other than that which showed in narrowed eyes hard as diamondsand 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 leftthe club. 

From Seventeenth Street he walked across to the Paradox Apartmentswhere he lived. He found a note propped up against a book on the tableof his living-room. It had been written by the Japanese servant heshared with two other bachelors who lived in the same building. 

Mr. Hull he come see you. He sorry you not here. He say maybe perhapsmake honorable call some other time. 

It was signed, "S. Horikawa. "

Cunningham tossed the note aside. He had no wish to see Hull. Thefellow was becoming a nuisance. If he had any complaint he could go tothe courts with it. That was what they were for. 

The doorbell rang. The promoter opened to a big, barrel-bodied man whopushed 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 overthe collar. "You know damn well what I want. I want what's comin' tome. 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 toldyou I was gonna have a divvy. An' I am. You can't throw down CassHull an' get away with it. Not none. " The shallow protuberant eyesglittered 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 acase. 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 asix-gun. That's how I'll come. An' soon. I'll give you two days tocome through. Two days. If you don't--hell sure enough will cough. "

Whatever else could be said about Cunningham he was no coward. He metthe raving man eye to eye. 

"I don't scare worth a cent, Hull. Get out. _Pronto_. And don't comeback unless you want me to turn you over to the police for ablackmailing 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 ofstrength still rang strong in him. In the days when he had ridden therange he had been famous for his stamina and he was even yet aformidable two-fisted fighter. 

But Hull was beyond prudence. "I'll go when I get ready, an' I'll comeback when I get ready, " he boasted. 

There came a soft thud of a hard fist on fat flesh, the crash of aheavy bulk against the door. After that things moved fast. Hull'sbody reacted to the pain of smashing blows falling swift and sure. Before he knew what had taken place he was on the landing outside onhis 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 thedoor 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 tookthe next flight of stairs. 

On the door of apartment 12 was a legend in Old English engraved on acalling 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 notrunning, so I walked up. On the way I met a man going down. He seemedrather in a hurry. "

"A cheap blackmailer trying to bold me up. I threw him out. "

"Thought he looked put out, " answered the younger man, smilingpolitely. "I see you still believe in applying direct energy todifficulties. "

"I do. That's why I sent for you. " The promoter's cold eyes wereinscrutable. "Come in and shut the door. "

The young man sauntered in. He glanced at his uncle curiously from hissparkling black eyes. What the devil did James, Senior, mean by whathe had said? Was there any particular significance in it?

He stroked his small black mustache. "Glad to oblige you any way Ican, sir. "

"Sit down. "

The young Beau Brummel hung up his hat and cane, sank into the easiestchair 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 megaphonetrained 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 thecenter of the stage. 

Through the gateway of the enclosure came a girl hardly out of herteens. She was bareheaded, a cowboy hat in her hand. The sun, alreadyslanting from the west, kissed her crisp, ruddy gold hair and set itsparkling. Her skin was shell pink, amber clear. She walked as mighta young Greek goddess in the dawn of the world, with the free movementof one who loves the open sky and the wind-swept plain. 

A storm of hand-clapping swept the grand stand. Wild Rose acknowledgedit with a happy little laugh. These dear people loved her. She knewit. And not only because she was a champion. They made over herbecause of her slimness, her beauty, the aura of daintiness thatsurrounded her, the little touches of shy youth that still clung to hermanner. Other riders of her sex might be rough, hoydenish, ormasculine. Wild Rose had the charm of her name. Yet the muscles thatrippled beneath her velvet skin were hard as nails. No bronco alivecould unseat her without the fight of its life. 

Meanwhile the outlaw horse Wild Fire was claiming its share ofattention. The bronco was a noted bucker. Every year it made thecircuit of the rodeos and only twice had a rider stuck to the saddlewithout pulling leather. Now it had been roped and cornered. Half adozen 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 mentrying to thrust a gunny sack over its head. The four legs were wideapart, the ears cocked, teeth bared. The animal flung itself skywardand came down on the boot of a puncher savagely. The man gave aninvoluntary howl of pain, but he clung to the rope snubbed round thewicked head. 

The gunny sack was pushed and pulled over the eyes. Wild Firesubsided, trembling, while bridle was adjusted and saddle slipped on. The girl attended to the cinching herself. If the saddle turned itmight cost her life, and she preferred to take no unnecessary chances. 

She was dressed in green satin riding clothes. A beaded bolero jacketfitted over a white silk blouse. Her boots were of buckskin, silver-spurred. With her hat on, at a distance, one might have takenher 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 wildscuffle of escaping wranglers. 

For a moment Wild Fire stood quivering. The girl's hat swept throughthe 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 thebody. All four feet struck the ground together, straight and stiff asfence posts. 

The girl's head jerked forward as though it were on a hinge. Theoutlaw went sunfishing, its forefeet almost straight up. She was stillin the saddle when it came to all fours again. A series of jarringbucks, each ending with the force of a pile-driver as Wild Fire's hoofsstruck earth, varied the programme. The rider came down limp, half inthe saddle, half out, righting herself as the horse settled for thenext leap. But not once did her hands reach for the pommel of thesaddle 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 thefence went Wild Fire blindly and furiously. The girl threw up her legto keep it from being jammed. Up went the bronco again before WildRose could find the stirrup. She knew she was gone, felt herselfshooting 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 searedthrough her. 

Through the air a rope whined. It settled over the head of the outlawand instantly was jerked tight. Wild Fire, coming down hard for asecond lunge at the green crumpled heap underfoot, was dragged sharplysideways. Another lariat snaked forward and fell true. 

"Here, Cole!" The first roper thrust the taut line into the hands of apuncher who had run forward. He himself dived for the still girlbeneath the hoofs of the rearing horse. Catching her by the arms, hedragged her out of danger. She was unconscious. 

The cowboy picked her up and carried her to the waiting ambulance. Theclosed 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 takeyou 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 twistedby 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 girlwho has to be petted when she gets hurt? You're on to ride inside offifteen minutes--and you know it. "

"Oh, well! I'm lookin' for an alibi so as not to be beaten. That ColeSanborn is sure a straight-up rider. "

"So's that Kirby Lane. You needn't think I'm going to let you beatyourself out of the championship. Not so any one could notice it. Hopout, sir. "

He rose, smiling ruefully. "You certainly are one bossy kid. "

"I'd say you need bossing when you start to act so foolish, " sheretorted, flushing. 

"See you later, " he called to her by way of good-bye. 

As the ambulance drove away she waved cheerfully at him a gauntletedhand. 

The cowpuncher turned back to the arena. The megaphone man wasannouncing that the contest for the world's rough-riding championshipwould now be resumed. 

CHAPTER III

FOR THE CHAMPIONSHIP OF THE WORLD

The less expert riders had been weeded out in the past two days. Onlythe champions of their respective sections were still in the running. One after another these lean, brown men, chap-clad and bow-legged, cameforward dragging their saddles and clamped themselves to the backs ofhurricane outlaws which pitched, bucked, crashed into fences, andtoppled over backward in their frenzied efforts to dislodge the humanclothes-pins fastened to them. 

The bronco busters endured the usual luck of the day. Two were thrownand picked themselves out of the dust, chagrined and damaged, but stillgrinning. One drew a tame horse not to be driven into resistanceeither by fanning or scratching. Most of the riders emerged from theordeal victorious. Meanwhile the spectators in the big grand stand, packed close as small apples in a box, watched every rider and snatchedat 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 onthe programme for the day. When Cole Sanborn was in the saddle he madean 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 smallberry-brown youth in yellow-wool chaps retorted. 

Sanborn was astride a noted outlaw known as Jazz. The horse was asorrel, and it knew all the tricks of its kind. It went sunfishing, tried weaving and fence-rowing, at last toppled over backward after afrantic leap upward. The rider, long-bodied and lithe, rode like acentaur. Except for the moment when he stepped out of the saddle asthe outlaw fell on its back, he stuck to his seat as though he wereglued to it. 

"He's a right limber young fellow, an' he sure can ride. I'll saythat, " admitted one old cattleman. 

"They don't grow no better busters, " another man spoke up. He was aneighbor of Sanborn and had his local pride. "From where I come fromwe'll put our last nickel on Cole, you betcha. He's top hand with arope too. "

"Hmp! Kirby here can make him look like thirty cents, top of a broncor with a lariat either one, " the yellow-chapped vaquero flung outbluntly. 

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 joband was straddling wide-legged toward the group, Kirby threw up a handof 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 loungedforward, moving with indolent grace, one might have guessed him aSoutherner. He was lean-loined and broad-shouldered. The long, flowing muscles rippled under his skin when he moved like those of apanther. From beneath the band of his pinched-in hat crisp, reddishhair escaped. 

Wild Fire was off the instant his feet found the stirrups. Again theoutlaw went through its bag of tricks and its straight bucking. Theman in the saddle gave to its every motion lightly and easily. He rodewith such grace that he seemed almost a part of the horse. Hisreactions appeared to anticipate the impulses of the screaming fiendwhich he was astride. When Wild Fire jolted him with humpbackedjarring bucks his spine took the shock limply to neutralize the effect. When it leaped heavenward he waved his hat joyously and rode thestirrups. From first to last he was master of the situation, and theoutlaw, though still fighting savagely, knew the battle was lost. 

The bronco had one trump card left, a trick that had unseated many astubborn rider. It plunged sideways at the fence of the enclosure andcrashed through it. Kirby's nerves shrieked with pain, and for amoment everything went black before him. His leg had been jammed hardagainst the upper plank. But when the haze cleared he was still in thesaddle. 

The outlaw gave up. It trotted tamely back to the grand stand throughthe shredded fragments of pine in the splintered fence, and the grandstand rose to its feet with a shout of applause for the rider. 

Kirby slipped from the saddle and limped back to his fellows on thefence. Already the crowd was pouring out from every exit of the stand. A thousand cars of fifty different makes were snorting impatiently toget out of the jam as soon as possible. For Cheyenne was full, full tooverflowing. The town roared with a high tide of jocund life. Fromall over Colorado, Wyoming, Montana, and New Mexico hard-bitten, sunburned youths in high-heeled boots and gaudy attire had gathered forthe Frontier Day celebration. Hundreds of cars had poured up fromDenver. Trains had disgorged thousands of tourists come to see thefestival. Many people would sleep out in automobiles and on theprairie. The late comers at restaurants and hotels would wait long andtake second best. 

A big cattleman beckoned to Lane. "Place in my car, son. Run you backto 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 theother cars speeding over the prairie, struck the road before the greatmajority of the automobiles had reached there, and was in town with thevanguard. 

After dinner the rough rider asked the clerk at her hotel if there wasany mail for Miss Rose McLean. Three letters were handed him. He putthem in his pocket and set out for the hospital. 

He found Miss Rose reclining in a hospital chair, in a frame of mindhighly indignant. "That doctor talks as though he's going to keep mehere a week. Well, he's got another guess coming. I'll not stay, " sheexploded 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 whenyou 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 thehotel. 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 finishedreading the letter Kirby spoke gently. 

"Bad news, pardner?"

She nodded, choking. Her eyes, frank and direct, met those of herfriend without evasion. It was a heritage of her life in the open thatin her relations with men she showed a boylike unconcern of sex. 

"Esther's in trouble. She--she--" Rose caught her breath in a stressof 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 thoughtsoverflowed in words. 

"She doesn't say what it is, but--I know her. She's crazy withfear--or heartache--or something. " Wild Rose was alwaysquick-tempered, a passionate defender of children and all weakcreatures. Now Lane knew that the hot blood was rushing stormily toher heart. Her little sister was in danger, the only near relative shehad. She would fight for her as a cougar would for its young. "ByGod, if it's a man--if he's done her wrong--I'll shoot him down like agray wolf. I'll show him how safe it is to--to--"

She broke down again, clamping tight her small strong teeth to biteback a sob. 

He spoke very gently. "Does she say--?"

His sentence hung suspended in air, but the young woman understood itssignificance. 

"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 itleaves. And I'll send a telegram to her to-night telling her I'll fixit. I will too. "

"Sure. That's the way to talk. Be reasonable an' everything'll workout fine. Write your wire an' I'll take it right to the office. Soonas 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 womanin itself, but it was a woman competent, unafraid, trained hard asnails. 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 wasshe moving?

CHAPTER IV

NOT ALWAYS TWO TO MAKE A QUARREL

Kirby put Wild Rose on the morning train for Denver. She had escapedfrom the doctor by sheer force of will. The night had been a wretchedone, almost sleepless, and she knew that her fever would rise in theafternoon. But that could not be helped. She had more importantbusiness than her health to attend to just now. 

Ordinarily Rose bloomed with vitality, but this morning she lookedtired and worn. In her eyes there was a hard brilliancy Kirby did notlike to see. He knew from of old the fire that could blaze in herheart, 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 pulledout. "Beat Cole, Kirby. "

"Good luck to you, " he answered. "Write me soon as you find out howthings are. "

But as he walked from the station his heart misgave him. Why had helet her go alone, knowing as he did how swift she blazed to passionwhen wrong was done those she loved? It was easy enough to say thatshe had refused to let him go with her, though he had several timesoffered. The fact remained that she might need a friend at hand, mightneed him the worst way. 

All through breakfast he was ridden by the fear of trouble on herhorizon. Comrades stopped to slap him on the back and wish him goodluck in the finals, and though he made the proper answers it was withthe surface of a mind almost wholly preoccupied with another matter. 

While he was rising from the table he made a decision in the flash ofan eye. He would join Rose in Denver at once. Already dozens of carswere taking the road. There would be a vacant place in some one ofthem. 

He found a party just setting out for Denver and easily madearrangements to take the unfilled seat in the tonneau. 

By the middle of the afternoon he was at a boarding-house on CherokeeStreet inquiring for Miss Rose McLean. She was out, and the landladydid not know when she would be back. Probably after her sister gothome 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 twocousins living in Denver. With the uncle he was on bad terms, and withhis cousins on no terms at all. It had been ten years since he hadseen either James Cunningham, Jr. , or his brother Jack. Why not callon 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 thebook up on the hook and turned to go. As he did so he came face toface 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, struckby another phase of the situation. "Did you leave Cheyenne withoutriding 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 onbusiness. 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 nextdoor. "

He took her into the Albany Hotel. They stepped out of the elevator atthe second floor and he found a settee in a corner where they might bealone. It struck him that the shadows in her eyes had deepened. Shewas, he could see plainly, laboring under a tension of repressedexcitement. The misery of her soul leaped out at him when she lookedhis way. 

"Have you anything to tell me?" he asked, and his low, gentle voice wasa 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. Hisname's Cunningham. "

"What Cunningham?" In his astonishment the words seemed to leap fromhim of their own volition. 

"James Cunningham, a big land and mining man. You must have heard ofhim. "

"Yes, I've heard of him. Are you sure?"

She nodded. "Esther won't tell me a thing. She's shielding him. ButI 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 onher 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'sright. "

"How?"

"I don't know how, but I will, " she cried wildly. "If he don't I'llsettle 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 everymove we make. Let's check up on this man before we lay down the law tohim. "

Some arresting quality in him held her eye. He had sloughed the gaydevil-may-care boyishness of the range and taken on a look of strongpatience new in her experience of him. But she was worn out andnervous. The pain in her arm throbbed feverishly. Her emotions hadheld her on a rack for many hours. There was in her no reserve powerof 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 tobe 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 itmatter if I am fagged. Don't you see? I'm crazy about Esther. I'vegot to get it settled. I can rest afterward. "

"Will it do any harm to take a friend along when you go to see thisman?"

"Yes. I don't want him to think I'm afraid of him. You're not inthis, Kirby. Esther is my little sister, not yours. "

"True enough. " A sardonic, mirthless smile touched his face. "ButJames Cunningham is my uncle, not yours. "

"Your uncle?" She rose, staring at him with big, dilated eyes. "He'syour 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 notface 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 unclebecause you'd find it out if I'm goin' to help you. He's no friend ofmine, 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 todo 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 leftstanding alone. 

CHAPTER V

COUSINS MEET

With the aid of a tiny looking-glass a young woman was powdering hernose. Lane interrupted her to ask if he might see Mr. Cunningham. 

"Name, please?" she parroted pertly, and pressed a button in theswitchboard before her. 

Presently she reached for the powder-puff again. "Says to come rightin. Door 't end o' the hall. "

Kirby entered. A man sat at a desk telephoning. He was smooth-shavenand rather heavy-set, a year or two beyond thirty, with thinning hairon the top of his head. His eyes in repose were hard and chill. Fromthe conversation his visitor gathered that he was a captain in the RedCross drive that was on. 

As he hung up the receiver the man rose, brisk and smiling, handoutstretched. "Glad to meet you, Cousin Kirby. When did you reachtown? 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'tseen 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 meto-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 lookedat the straight, clean-built young cattleman. He knew that the strongface, brown as Wyoming, expressed a pungent personality back of whichwas dynamic force. What did Lane want with his uncle? They hadquarreled. His cousin knew that. Did young Lane expect him to backhis side of the quarrel? Or did he want to win back favor with JamesCunningham, Senior, millionaire?

Kirby smiled. He guessed what the other was thinking. "I don't wantto interfere in your friendship with him. All I need is his addressand a little information. I've come to have another row with him, Ireckon. "

The interest in Cunningham's eyes quickened. He laughed. "Aren't youin 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. Hisclothes 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 theirprevious talk. 

"Kirby was just telling me that he has come to Denver to meet UncleJames, " he explained to his brother. "Some difficulty with him, Iunderstand. "

Jack Cunningham's black eyes fastened on his cousin. He waited forfurther information. It was plain he was interested. 

"I'm not quite sure of my facts, " Lane said. "But there's evidence toshow that he has ruined a young girl in his office. She practicallyadmits 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 thatyoung 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 abit impetuous. I saw him throw a man down the stairs yesterday. Picked the fellow up at the foot of the flight. He certainly looked asthough he'd like to murder our dear uncle. "

"What I'd like to know is this, " said Lane. "What sort of a reputationhas Uncle James in this way? Have you ever heard of his bein' inanything of this sort before?"

"No, I haven't, " James said promptly. 

Jack shrugged. "I wouldn't pick nunky for exactly a moral man, " hesaid flippantly. "His idea of living is to grab all the easy things hecan. "

"Where can I see him most easily? At his office?" asked Kirby. 

"He drove down to Colorado Springs to-day on business. At least hetold me he was going. Don't know whether he expects to get backto-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 youngcattleman left. He knew from the fidgety manner of Jack that he hadsome 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 ParadoxApartments. The bulletin board told him that his uncle's apartment was12. He did not take the self-serve elevator, but the stairs. The hallon the second floor was dark. Since he did not know whether the roomshe 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. Hehad 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 athim out of that of the woman in front of him. She was a tall, angularwoman of a harsh, forbidding countenance, flat-breasted andmiddle-aged. Behind her, farther back in the room, the roughridercaught a glimpse of a fat, gross, ashen-faced man fleeing toward theinner door of a bedroom to escape being seen. He was thrusting intohis 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 ananswer. 

"Head o' the stairs--right hand, " she managed to get out, then shut thedoor swiftly in the face of the man whose simple question had soshocked her. 

Kirby heard the latch released from its catch. The key in the lockbelow 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 whenthey opened the door an' saw me? An' why did it get her goat when Iasked where Uncle James lived?"

As he took the treads that brought him to the next landing thecattleman had an impression of a light being flashed off somewhere. Heturned to the right as the woman below had directed. 

The first door had on the panel a card with his uncle's name. Heknocked, and at the same instant noticed that the door was ajar. Noanswer came. His finger found the electric push button. He could hearit buzzing inside. Twice he pushed it. 

"Nobody at home, looks like, " he said to himself. "Well, I reckon I'llstep in an' leave a note. Or maybe I'll wait. If the door's open he'sliable to be right back. "

He stepped into the room. It was dark. His fingers groped along thewall for the button to throw on the light. Before he found it a soundstartled 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 coldfeet of mice pattered up and down his spine. Something was wrong. Thesixth sense of danger that comes to some men who live constantly inperil was warning him. 

"Who's there?" he asked sharply. 

No voice replied, but there was a faint rustle of some one or something 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 closestattention. He knew that some one, for some sinister purpose, had comeinto this apartment and been trapped here by him. 

The moments flew. He thought he could hear his hammering heart. Astifled gasp, a dozen feet from him, was just audible. 

He leaped for the sound. His outflung hand struck an arm and slid downit, caught at a small wrist, and fastened there. In the fraction of asecond left him he realized, beyond question, that it was a woman hehad assaulted. 

The hand was wrenched from him. There came a zigzag flash of lightningsearing his brain, a crash that filled the world for him--and hefloated into unconsciousness. 

CHAPTER VII

FOUL PLAY

Lane came back painfully to a world of darkness. His head throbbeddistressingly. Querulously he wondered where he was and what had takenplace. 

He drew the fingers of his outstretched hand along the nap of a rug andhe knew he was on the floor. Then his mind cleared and he rememberedthat a woman's hand had been imprisoned in his just before his brainstopped functioning. 

Who was she? What was she doing here? And what under heaven had hithim hard enough to put the lights out so instantly?

He sat up and held his throbbing head. He had been struck on the pointof the chin and gone down like an axed bullock. The woman must havelashed out at him with some weapon. 

In his pocket he found a match. It flared up and lit a small space inthe pit of blackness. Unsteadily he got to his feet and moved towardthe door. His mind was quite clear now and his senses abnormallysensitive. For instance, he was aware of a faint perfume of violet inthe room, so faint that he had not noticed it before. 

There grew on him a horror, an eagerness to be gone from the rooms. Itwas based on no reasoning, but on some obscure feeling that there hadtaken place something evil, something that chilled his blood. 

Yet he did not go. He had come for a purpose, and it wascharacteristic of him that he stayed in spite of the dread that grew onhim till it filled his breast. Again he groped along the wall for thelight switch. A second match flared in his fingers and showed it tohim. Light flooded the room. 

His first sensation was of relief. This handsome apartment with itsPersian rugs, its padded easy-chairs, its harmonious wall tints, had anote of repose quite alien to tragedy. It was the home of a man whohad given a good deal of attention to making himself comfortable. Indefinably, it was a man's room. The presiding genius of it wasmasculine and not feminine. It lacked the touches of adornment thatonly a woman can give to make a place homelike. 

Yet one adornment caught Kirby's eye at once. It was a largephotograph in a handsome frame on the table. The picture showed thehead and bust of a beautiful woman in evening dress. She was abrunette, young and very attractive. The line of head, throat, andshoulder was perfect. The delicate, disdainful poise and the gayprovocation in the dark, slanting eyes were enough to tell that she wasno novice in the game of sex. He judged her an expensive orchidproduced in the civilization of our twentieth-century hothouse. Acrossthe bottom of the picture was scrawled an inscription in a fashionablyangular hand. Lane moved closer to read it. The words were, "Always, Phyllis. " Probably this was the young woman to whom, if rumor weretrue, James Cunningham, Senior, was engaged. 

On the floor, near where Kirby had been lying, lay a heavy piece ofagate evidently used for a paperweight. He picked up the smooth stoneand guessed instantly that this was the weapon which had establishedcontact with his chin. Very likely the woman's hand had closed on itwhen she heard him coming. She had switched off the light and waitedfor him. That the blow had found a vulnerable mark and knocked him outhad been sheer luck. 

Kirby passed into a luxurious bedroom beyond which was a tiledbathroom. He glanced these over and returned to the outer apartment. There was still another door. It was closed. As the man from Wyomingmoved toward it he felt once more a strange sensation of dread. It wasstrong enough to stop him in his stride. What was he going to findbehind that door? When he laid his hand on the knob pinpricks playedover 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 onlyrecently. Where? His memory jumped to a corridor of the Cheyennehospital. He had been passing the operating-room on his way to seeWild Rose. The door had opened and there had been wafted to himfaintly the penetrating whiff of chloroform. It was the same drug hesniffed now. 

He stood on the threshold, groped for the switch, and flashed on thelights. Sound though Kirby Lane's nerves were, he could not repress agasp at what he saw. 

Leaning back in an armchair, looking up at him with a horrible sardonicgrin, was his uncle James Cunningham. His wrists were tied with ropesto the arms of the chair. A towel, passed round his throat, fastenedthe body to the back of the chair and propped up the head. A bloodyclot of hair hung tangled just above the temple. The man was deadbeyond any possibility of doubt. There was a small hole in the centerof the forehead through which a bullet had crashed. Beneath this was athin 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 agrewsome suggestion in the tilt of the head and the gargoyle grin thatthis was a hideous and shocking jest he was playing on the world. 

Kirby snatched his eyes from the grim spectacle and looked round theroom. It was evidently a private den to which the owner of theapartment 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 layscattered everywhere and its contents had been rifled and flung on thefloor. 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 letout 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 buta minute before full of lusty life. But these had been victims ofwarfare in the open, usually of sudden passions that had flared andstruck. This was different. It was murder, deliberate, cold-blooded, atrocious. The man had been tied up, made helpless, and done to deathwithout mercy. There was a note of the abnormal, of the unhuman, aboutthe affair. Whoever had killed James Cunningham deserved the extremepenalty of the law. 

He was a man who no doubt had made many enemies. Always he haddemanded his pound of flesh and got it. Some one had waited patientlyfor his hour and exacted a fearful vengeance for whatever wrong he hadsuffered. 

Kirby decided that he must call the police at once. No time ought tobe lost in starting to run down the murderer. He stepped into theliving-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 asensation as though his heart had been plunged into cracked ice. Forhe recognized the glove on the table, knew who its owner was. 

It was a small riding-gauntlet with a device of a rose embroidered onthe 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, closeto 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 worldhe wanted to see just now. 

All his life he had lived the adventure of the outdoors. For twelvemonths he had served at the front, part of the time with the forces inthe Argonne. He had ridden stampedes and fought through blizzards. Hehad tamed the worst outlaw horses the West could produce. But he hadnever been so shock-shaken as he was now. A fact impossibly butdreadfully true confronted him. Wild Rose had been alone with hisuncle in these rooms, had listened with breathless horror while Kirbyclimbed the stairs, had been trapped by his arrival, and had foughtlike a wolf to make her escape. He remembered the wild cry of heroutraged heart, "Nothing's too bad for a man like that. "

Lane was sick with fear. It ran through him and sapped his supplestrength like an illness. It was not possible that Rose could havedone this in her right mind. But he had heard a doctor say once thatunder stress of great emotion people sometimes went momentarily insane. His friend had been greatly wrought up from anxiety, pain, fever, andlack 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. Heread it, without any interest. 

Mr. Hull he come see you. He sorry you not here. He say maybe perhapsmake honorable call some other time. 

S. HORIKAWA

An electric bell buzzed through the apartment. The sound of itstartled Kirby as though it had been the warning of a rattlesnake closeto his head. Some one was at the outer door ringing for admission. Itwould never do for him to be caught here. 

He had been trained to swift thought reactions. Quickly butnoiselessly he stepped to the door and released the catch of the Yalelock so that it would not open from the outside without a key. Heswitched off the light and passed through the living-room into thebedchamber. His whole desire now was to be gone from the building assoon as possible. The bedroom also he darkened before he stepped tothe 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 hebegan 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 Clubwhere 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 youalways"--puff, puff--"leave your rooms"--puff, puff, puff--"by the fireescape?"

Kirby looked at him in silence, thinking furiously. He had beencaught, after all. There were witnesses to prove he had gone up to hisuncle's rooms. Here was another to testify he had left by the fireescape. The best he could say was that he was very unlucky. 

"Never mind, friend, " the newspaper-man went On. "You don't look likea second-story worker to yours truly. " He broke into a little amusedchuckle. "I reckon friend husband, who never comes home till Saturdaynight, happened around unexpectedly and the fire escape looked good toyou. Am I right?"

The Wyoming man managed a grin. It was not a mirthful one, but itserved. 

"You're a wizard, " he said admiringly. 

The reporter had met a bootlegger earlier in the evening and had two orthree drinks. He was mellow. "Oh, I'm wise, " he said with a wink. "Chuck Ellis isn't anybody's fool. Beat it, Lothario, while thebeating's good. " The last sentence and the gesture that accompaniedthe 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 thepolice that James Cunningham had been murdered at his home in theParadox Apartments. He stayed to answer no questions, but hung up atonce. From a side door of the store he stepped out to Welton Streetand walked to his hotel. 

He passed a wretched night. The distress that flooded his mind was dueless to his own danger than to his anxiety for Rose. His course ofaction was not at all clear to him in case he should be identified asthe man who had been seen going to and coming from the apartment of themurdered man. He could not explain why he was there withoutimplicating Rose and her sister. He would not betray them. That ofcourse. But he had told his cousins why he was going. Would theirstory not start a hunt for the woman in the case?

Man is an illogical biped. Before Kirby had seen the glove on thetable and associated it with the crime, his feeling had been that thegallows was the proper end of so cruel a murderer. Now he not onlyintended to protect Rose, but his heart was filled with pity for her. He understood her better than he did any other woman, her loyalty andlove 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 littlefriend he had come to know and like so well, but a tortured womanbeside herself with grief for the sister to whom she had always been amother too. 

He slept little, and that brokenly. With the dawn he was out on thestreet to buy a copy of the "News. " The story of the murder had thetwo columns on the right-hand side of the front page and broke over tothe 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 awell-known character, several times a millionaire. His death even byillness would have been worth a column. But the horrible and grewsomeway of his taking off, the mystery surrounding it, the absence of anyapparent motive unless it were revenge, all whetted the appetite of theeditors. It was a big "story, " one that would run for many days, andthe "News" played it strong. 

As Kirby had expected, he was selected as the probable assassin. Areporter had interviewed Mr. And Mrs. Cass Hull, who occupied theapartment just below that of the murdered man. They had told him thata young man, a stranger to them, powerfully built and dressed like aprosperous ranchman, had knocked on their door about 9. 20 to ask theway to the apartment of Cunningham. Hull explained that he rememberedthe time particularly because he happened to be winding the clock atthe moment. 

A description of Lane was given in a two-column "box. " He read it withno amusement. It was too deadly accurate for comfort. 

The supposed assassin of James Cunningham is described by Mrs. CassHull as dressed in a pepper-and-salt suit and a white, pinched-incattleman's hat. He is about six feet tall, between 25 and 30 yearsold, weighing about 200 or perhaps 210 pounds. His hair is a lightbrown and his face tanned from the sun. 

His age and his weight were overstated, and his clothes were almost akhaki brown. Otherwise Mrs. Hull had given a very close description ofhim, 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 ontheir door, unless it was a printer's error or the reporter had made amistake. Kirby knew this was wrong. He had looked at his watch justbefore he had entered the Paradox Apartment. He had stopped directlyunder 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 boththeir faces. Did they know more about the murder than they pretended?When he had mentioned his uncle's name the woman had been close tocollapse, though, of course, he could not be sure that had been thereason. To his mind there flashed the memory of the note he had seenon the table. The man had called on Cunningham and left word he mightcall again. Was it possible the Hulls had just come down from theapartment above when he had knocked on their door? If so, how did thepresence of Rose fit into the schedule?

Lane pounced on the fear and the evasion of the Hulls as an out forWild 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 hadcalled up the police at 10. 25 to tell them that Cunningham had beenmurdered in his rooms. Who was this man? Could he be the murderer?If so, why should he telephone the police and start immediately thehunt after him? If not the killer, how did he know that a crime hadbeen committed less than an hour before?

As soon as he had eaten breakfast, Kirby walked round to theboarding-house on Cherokee Street where Wild Rose was staying with hersister. Rose was out, he learned from the landlady. He asked if hemight see her sister. His anxiety was so great he could not leavewithout a word of her. 

Presently Esther came down to the parlor where the young man waited forher. Lane introduced himself as a friend of Rose. He was worriedabout her, he said. She seemed to him in a highly wrought-up, nervousstate. 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 sojumpy, she agreed. Last night she had gone out for an hour alone. Thelook in her eyes when she had come back had frightened Esther. She hadgone at once to her bedroom and locked the door, but her sister hadheard her moving about for hours. 

Then, suddenly, Esther's throat swelled and she began to sob. She knewwell 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 wholooked as though his quiet strength could move mountains. He was aman. Besides, every instinct in her drove to keep hidden the secretthat some day would tell itself. 

Her eyes fell. They rested on the "News" some boarder had tossed onthe table beside which she stood. Her thoughts were of herself and theplight in which she had become involved. She looked at the bigheadlines of the paper and for the moment did not see them. What shedid 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 thescoop of the day. It was a story signed by Chuck Ellis, who had seenthe alleged murderer climb down by a fire escape from the window ofCunningham's bedroom and had actually talked with the man as he emergedfrom the alley. His description of the suspect tallied fairly closelywith 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 withhis cousins, it would not have surprised him if at any moment anofficer had touched him on the shoulder and told him he was underarrest. 

Entering the office of the oil broker, where the two brothers werewaiting for him, Kirby had a sense of an interrupted conversation. They had been talking about him, he guessed. The atmosphere waselectric. 

James spoke quickly, to bridge any embarrassment. "This is a dreadfulthing 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 theirright senses don't do such things. "

"No, " agreed James. "Murder's one thing. Such coldblooded deviltry isquite another. There may be insanity connected with it. But one thingis 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 ofa second's hesitation he spoke. "If I did I wouldn't be going to lunchwith you. "

Jack cut in. Excitement had banished his usual almost insolentindolence. His dark eyes burned with a consuming fire. "Let's put ourcards on the table. We think you're the man the police are lookingfor--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 theSprings. The description fits you to a T. You can't get away with analibi so far as I'm concerned. "

"All right, " said the rough rider, his low, even voice unruffled byexcitement. "If I can't, I can't. We'll say I'm the man who came downthe fire escape. What then?"

James was watching his cousin steadily. The pupils of his eyesnarrowed. He took the answer out of his brother's mouth. "Then wethink you probably know something about this mystery that you'll wantto tell us. You must have been on the spot very soon after themurderer escaped. Perhaps you saw him. "

Kirby told the story of his night's adventure, omitting any referencewhatever to Wild Rose or to anybody else in the apartment when heentered. 

After he had finished, James made his comment. "You've been veryfrank, Kirby. I accept your story. A guilty man would have deniedbeing in the apartment, or he would have left town and disappeared. "

The range rider smiled sardonically. "I'm not so sure of that. You'vegot 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. Allyou 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 killedUncle James, I couldn't do much else except tell some story like theone 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 anopinion, Jack. Do you think I shot Uncle James?"

Jack looked at him, almost sullenly, and looked away. He poked at thecorner of the desk with the ferrule of his cane. "I don't know whoshot him. You had quarreled with him, and you went to have another rowwith him. A cop told me that some one who knew how to tie ropesfastened the knots around his arms and throat. You beat it from theroom by the fire escape. A jury would hang you high as Haman on thatevidence. Damn it, there's a bad bruise on your chin wasn't there whenwe saw you yesterday. For all I know he may have done it before youput 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 thinkyour 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 denyhis strength, audacious yet patient. He was a forty-horsepower manwith the smile of a boy. Moreover, his face was a certificate ofmanhood. It was a recommendation more effective than words. 

"I think you're wrong, Jack, " the older brother said. "Kirby had nomore to do with this than I had. "

"Thanks, " Kirby nodded. 

"Let's investigate this man Hull. What Kirby says fits in with whatyou saw a couple of evenings ago, Jack. I'm assuming he's the same manUncle 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 wegoin' to bring her into this?"

There was a moment's silence. Jack's black eyes slid from Lane to hisbrother. It struck Kirby that he was waiting tensely for the decisionof James, though the reason for his anxiety was not apparent. 

James gave the matter consideration, then spoke judicially. "Betterleave her out of it. No need to smirch Uncle's reputation unless it'sabsolutely necessary. We don't want the newspapers gloating over anymore 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 hisdead uncle's reputation than he had given him credit for?

As the three cousins stepped out of the Equitable Building to StoutStreet 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 drawntwo 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 hadkilled 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 thepolice and told them he was the man who had been seen leaving theParadox Apartments by the fire escape. But he could not do thiswithout running the risk of implicating Wild Rose. Awkward questionswould be fired at him that he could not answer. He decided not to runaway from arrest, but not to surrender himself. If the police roundedhim 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 couldnot find her at home. When he at last did see her it was at theinquest, where he had gone to learn all that he could of thecircumstances surrounding the murder. 

There was a risk in attending. He recognized that. But he was movedby 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 hisfriend. Though he recognized the weight of evidence against her, hecould not believe her guilty. Under tremendous provocation it might bein character for her to have shot his uncle in self-defense or while inextreme anger. But all his knowledge of her cried out that she couldnever have chloroformed him, tied him up, then taken his life while hewas helpless. She was too fine and loyal to her code, too good asportsman, far too tender-hearted, for such a thing. 

Yet the evidence assaulted this conviction of his soul. If the WildRose in the dingy court-room had been his friend of the outdoor spaces, he would have rejected as absurd the possibility that she had killedhis uncle. But his heart sank when he looked at this wan-faced womanwho came late and slipped inconspicuously into a back seat, whose eyesavoided 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 hundredswere turned away. In the audience was a scattering of fashionablydressed women, for it was possible the inquest might develop asensation. 

The coroner was a short, fat, little man with a highly developed senseof his importance. It was his hour, and he made the most of it. Hismethods were his own. The young assistant district attorney loungingby the table played second fiddle. 

The first witnesses developed the movements of Cunningham during theevening of the twenty-third. He had dined at the City Club, and hadleft there after dinner to go to his apartment. To a club memberdining with him he had mentioned an appointment at his rooms with alady. 

A rustling wave of excitement swept the benches. Those who had come toseek sensations had found their first thrill. Kirby drew in his breathsharply. 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 beannoyed. He had considered not mentioning this appointment, but hisconscience would not let him hide it. None the less he resented theneed of giving the public more scandal about a fellow club member whowas dead. He added an explanation. "My feeling was that it was somebusiness matter being forced on him. He had been at Colorado Springsduring 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 tofacts and not to impressions, Mr. Blanton. Do you know at what timeMr. 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 andvery eagerly. 

He was followed by a teller at the Rocky Mountain National Bank. Hetestified to only two facts--that he knew Cunningham and that thepromoter had drawn two thousand dollars in bills on the day of hisdeath. 

A tenant at the Paradox Apartments was next called to the stand. Theassistant district attorney examined him. He brought out only one factof importance--that he had seen Cunningham enter the building at a fewminutes before nine o'clock. 

The medical witnesses were introduced next. The police surgeon hadreached the apartment at 10. 30. The deceased had come to his death, inhis judgment, from the effect of a bullet out of a . 38 caliber revolverfired into his brain. He had been struck a blow on the head by someheavy instrument, but this in itself would probably not have provedfatal. 

"How long do you think he had been dead when you first saw him?"

"Less than an hour. " Answering questions, the police surgeon gave thetechnical medical reasons upon which he based this opinion. Hedescribed the wound. 

The coroner washed the backs of his hands with his palms. Observingreporters noticed that he did this whenever he intended taking theexamination 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 whatpart 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 thebullet 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-handedperson?"

"That is my opinion. "

The coroner swelled like a turkey cock as he waved the attorney to takecharge again. 

Lane's heart drummed fast. He did not look across the room toward thegirl in the blue tailored suit. But he saw her, just as clearly asthough his eyes had been fastened on her. The detail that stood out inhis imagination was the right arm set in splints and resting in a linensling 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 thechair 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 whohad arrived at the scene of the tragedy with the surgeon had finishedtheir testimony. One point brought out by the officers was that in thesearch of the rooms the two thousand dollars was not found. The oilbroker 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 manin 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 wantto bring Kirby into his testimony if he could help it. That mightultimately 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 stepforward and take a seat near the front. I may want to ask him a fewquestions later. "

Kirby rose and came forward. 

"To your knowledge, Mr. Cunningham, had your uncle any enemies?" askedthe attorney, continuing his examination. 

"He was a man of positive opinions. Necessarily there were people whodid 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 hisdesk 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. Theletter was the one the promoter had received from the Dry Valleyrancher threatening his life if he ever appeared again in that part ofthe 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 youcommunicated 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 andbalanced on the balls of his feet. "Do you happen to know the name ofthe lady with whom your uncle had an appointment on the night of hisdeath 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 subsequentlyoccurred?"

"Nothing whatever. "

"Very good, Mr. Cunningham. You may be excused, if Mr. Johns isthrough with you, unless some member of the jury has a question hewould like to ask. "

One of the jury had. He was a dried-out wisp of a man wrinkled like awinter pippin. "Was your uncle engaged to be married at the time ofhis death?" he piped. 

There was a mild sensation in the room. Curious eyes swept toward thegraceful, slender form of a veiled woman sitting at the extreme left ofthe room. 

Cunningham flushed. The question seemed to him a gratuitous probe intothe private affairs of the family. "I do not care to discuss that, " heanswered quietly. 

"The witness may refuse to answer questions if he wishes, " the coronerruled. 

Jack Cunningham was called to the stand. James had made an excellentwitness. He was quiet, dignified, and yet forceful. Jack, on theother hand, was nervous and irritable. The first new point hedeveloped was that on his last visit to the rooms of his uncle he hadseen 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 tobusiness 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 withyour uncle?"

"That's my business, " flared the witness. Then, just as swiftly as hisirritation had come it vanished. He remembered that his uncle'spassionate voice had risen high. No doubt people in the nextapartments had heard him. It would be better to make a frankadmission. "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 questionagain. "Was your uncle engaged to be married at the time of his death?"

The startled eyes of Jack Cunningham leaped to the little man. Therewas in them dismay, almost panic. Then, swiftly, he recovered anddrawled insolently, "I try to mind my own business. Do you?"

The coroner asserted himself. "Here, here, none of that! Order inthis 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 eyesdodged about the room in dread. It was as though he were looking for away 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 irrigationproject. "

"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 fatthat swelled over his collar. "I--we had a--an argument about asettlement--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, kindain 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 madehis explanation eagerly and anxiously, dabbing at his beefy face withthe handkerchief. 

"When did you last see Mr. Cunningham alive?"

"Well, sir, that was the last time, though I reckon we heard him passour door. "

In answer to questions the witness explained that Cunningham had owedhim, in his opinion, four thousand dollars more than he had paid. Itwas about this sum they had differed. 

"Were you at home on the evening of the twenty-third--that is, lastnight?"

The witness flung out more signals of distress. "Yes, sir, " he said atlast 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' heasked which flat was Cunningham's. She told him, an' the man hestarted 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 districtattorney's office. 

Kirby Lane did not move a muscle of his body, but excitement grew inhim, 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 clockstruck 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 boysdid. "

"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'treach it. "

"That's so. Mr. Johns, you may take the witness again. "

The young lawyer asked questions about the Dry Valley irrigationproject. He wanted to know why there was dissatisfaction among thefarmers, and from a reluctant witness drew the information that thewater supply was entirely inadequate for the needs of the land undercultivation. 

Mrs. Hull, called to the stand, testified that on the evening of thetwenty-third a man had knocked at their door to ask in which apartmentMr. 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. Whywere this woman and her husband setting back the clock thirty-fiveminutes? Was it to divert suspicion from themselves? Was it to showthat this stranger must have been in Cunningham's rooms for almost anhour, during which time the millionaire promoter had been murdered?

"Describe the man. "

This tall, angular woman, whose sex the years had seemed to have driedout 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 whohad knocked at her door with a good deal of circumstantial detail. 

"He was an outdoor man, a rancher, perhaps, or more likely acattleman, " 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 hadtraveled past the lawyer and fixed themselves on Kirby Lane. He sawthe 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 someone had exploded a mental bomb. Men and women craned forward to seethe man who had been identified, the man who no doubt had murderedJames Cunningham. The murmur of voices, the rustle of skirts, theshuffling of moving bodies filled the air. 

The coroner rapped for order. "Silence in the court-room, " he saidsharply. 

"Which man do you mean, Mrs. Hull?" asked the lawyer. 

"The big brown man sittin' at the end of the front bench, the one rightbehind you. "

Kirby rose. "Think prob'ly she means me, " he suggested. 

An officer in uniform passed down the aisle and laid a hand on thecattleman'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 wasnot quite a sob and not quite a wail. Kirby turned his head toward theback of the room. 

Wild Rose was standing in her place looking at him with dilated eyesfilled with incredulity and horror. 

CHAPTER XIII

"ALWAYS, PHYLLIS"

"Chuck" Ellis, reporter, testified that on his way home from the PressClub on the night of the twenty-third, he stopped at an alley onGlenarm Street to strike a light for his cigar. Just as he lit thematch he saw a man come out from the window of a room in the ParadoxApartments and run down the fire escape. It struck him that the manmight be a burglar, so he waited in the shadow of the building. Therunner came down the alley toward him. He stopped the man and had sometalk with him. At the request of the district attorney's assistant hedetailed the conversation and located on a chart shown him the roomfrom 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 secondbefore he stepped to the stand. Now he looked around, surprised at thelawyer'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 theoath the scribbling reporters found in his movements a pantherishlightness, in his compact figure rippling muscles perfectly undercontrol. There was an appearance of sunburnt competency about him, acrisp confidence born of the rough-and-tumble life of the outdoor West. He did not look like a cold-blooded murderer. Women found themselveshoping that he was not. The jaded weariness of the sensation-seekersvanished at sight of him. A man had walked upon the stage, one full ofvital energy. 

The assistant district attorney led him through the usualpreliminaries. Lane said that he was by vocation a cattleman, byavocation 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 Pendletonand 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 thistime?"

"Three years. "

"What were your relations with him?"

The coroner interposed. "You need answer no questions tending toincriminate you, Mr. Lane. "

A sardonic smile rested on the rough rider's lean, brown face. "Ourrelations 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 wasfaced with bankruptcy. Cunningham not only refused to help him, butwas the hardest of his creditors. He hounded him to the time of myfather's death a few months later. His death was due to a breakdowncaused 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 thegrossest ingratitude. "

"You resented it. "

"Yes. "

"And quarreled with him?"

"I wrote him a letter an' told him what I thought of him. Later, whenwe 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' inthe 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 meanything I should have declined to accept it. But there was no chanceat 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 whenI 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 ParadoxApartments. "

"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'. Sowas 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 tothe left, leaned forward and seemed to listen intently. All over theroom there was a stir of quickened interest. 

"How did she show her fear?"

"No color in her face, eyes dilated an' full of terror, handstremblin'. "

"And Mr. Hull?"

"He was yellow. Color all gone from his face. Looked as though he'dhad a shock. "

"What was said, if anything?"

"I asked Mrs. Hull where my uncle's apartment was. That gave heranother fright. At least she almost fainted. "

"Did she say anything?"

"She told me where his rooms were. Then she shut the door, right in myface. 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 backin a few minutes. "

"Just exactly what did you do?"

"I waited by the table in the living-room for a few minutes. There wasa 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 thebedroom an' then opened the door into the small smoking-room. The odorof chloroform met me. I found the button an' flashed on the light. "

Except the sobbing breath of an unnerved woman no slightest sound couldbe heard in the court-room but Lane's quiet, steady voice. It went onevenly, clearly, dominating the crowded room by the drama of itsundramatic timbre. 

"My uncle was sittin' in a chair, tied to it. His head was canted alittle to one side an' he was lookin' up at me. There was a bullethole in his forehead. He was dead. "

The veiled woman in black gasped for air. Her head sank forward andher slender body swayed. 

"Look out!" called the witness to the woman beside her. 

Before Kirby could reach her, the fainting woman had slipped to thefloor. He stooped to lift her head from the dusty planks--and the odorof violet perfume met his nostrils. 

"If you'll permit me, " a voice said. 

The cattleman looked up. His cousin James, white to the lips, wasbeside him unfastening the veil. 

The face of the woman in black was the original of the photograph Kirbyhad seen in his uncle's room, the one upon which had been written thewords, "Always, Phyllis. "

CHAPTER XIV

A FRIEND IN NEED

The rest of the coroner's inquest was anticlimax. Those who had cometo tickle their palates with excitement tasted only one other moment ofit. 

"According to your own story you must have been in your uncle'sapartment at least a quarter of an hour, Mr. Lane, " said theprosecuting 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 thecrime had been committed?"

"I suppose I lost my head an' went panicky. I heard some one at thedoor, 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 Icome 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 arevolver or an automatic?"

"I did not. "

"That's all, sir. "

The jury was out something more than an hour. The news of the verdictwas brought to Kirby at the city jail by his cousin James. 

"Jury finds that Uncle James came to his death from the effect ofeither a blow on the head by some heavy instrument, or a bullet firedat 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 arrangefor bond. We're going to take it up with the court to-morrow. Myopinion is that the Hulls did this. All through his testimony thefellow sweated fear. I've put it in the hands of a private detectiveagency to keep tabs on him. "

The cattleman smiled ruefully. "Trouble is I'm the only witness totheir 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'reright. They've somethin' to do with it. In their evidence theyshifted the time back thirty-five minutes so as to get me intoApartment 12 that much earlier. Why? If I could answer that question, I could go a long way toward solvin' the mystery of who killed UncleJames an' why he did it. "

"Probably. As I see it, we have three leads to go on. One is that theguilty man is Hull. A second possibility is the unknown man from DryValley. A third is Horikawa. "

"How about Horikawa? Did you know him well?"

"One never knows an Oriental. Perhaps I'm prejudiced because I used tolive in California, but I never trust a Japanese fully. His sense ofright and wrong is so different from mine. Horikawa is a quiet littlefellow 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 convictedrecently 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 goodworkers. 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 badman kills an' is done with it. But whoever did this aimed to torturean' 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 itup 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 plannedthis 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 getthe truth when you go after it good an' hard. I'm goin' to find outwho 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 manfrom Twin Buttes had come a cold steely temper that transformed thegay, 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 werehard as jade. "We'll work this out together if you say so, Kirby. "

The younger man nodded. "Suits me fine. " His face softened. "Youmentioned three leads. Most men would have said four. On the face ofit, of the evidence at hand, the guilty man is sittin' right heretalkin' with you. You know that the dead man an' I had a bitterfeelin' against each other. You know there was a new cause of troublebetween us, an' that I told you I was goin' to get justice out of himone way or another. I'm the only man known to have been in his roomslast night. Accordin' to the Hulls I must 'a' been there when he waskilled. Then, as a final proof of my guilt, I slide out by the fireescape to get away without bein' seen. I'll say the one big leadpoints straight to Kirby Lane. "

"Yes, but there's such a thing as character, " James answered. "It'swritten in your face that you couldn't have done it. That's why thejury said a person unknown. "

"Yes, but the jury didn't know what you knew, that I had a fresh causeof quarrel with Uncle James. Do you believe me absolutely? Don't youwaver 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 riverwith, 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 thoughan ironic fate were laughing in impish glee at this horrible climax ofher woe. He had sacrificed a pot of gold and his ambition to be thechampion 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 easyescape. Part, at least, of the evidence against Kirby, or at least theimplication to be drawn from it, did not fit in with what she knew tobe the truth. He had not been in the apartment of James Cunninghamfrom 9. 30 until 10. 15. He might have been there at both times, but notfor the whole interval between. Rose had the best reason in the worldfor knowing that. 

But what was she to do? What ought she to do? If she went with herstory to the district attorney, her sister's shame must inevitably bedragged forth to be flaunted before the whole world. She could not dothat. She could not make little Esther the scapegoat of herconscience. 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 topersuade the authorities to accept bond for his cousin's appearance. Swiftly Rose made up her mind what she would do. She looked up in thetelephone 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 thismorning?"

"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 officehere, " Rose heard. 

A dark, good-looking young man rose from a desk in the inner officewhen Rose entered exactly at ten. In his eyes there sparked a littleflicker of surprised appreciation. Jack Cunningham was alwayssusceptible to the beauty of women. This girl was lovely both offeature and of form. The fluent grace of the slender young body wascharming, but the weariness of grief was shadowed under the long-lashedeyes. 

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 myuncle's office. I'm taking charge of his affairs. You called hisnumber 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. Iwant to see him about that. I am Rose McLean. My sister worked foryour uncle in his office. "

"Oh!" A film of wary caution settled over his eyes. It seemed to Rosethat what she had said transformed him into a potential adversary. "Glad to meet you, Miss McLean. If you'd rather talk with my brotherI'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 wouldread her soul. Then he was all smiling urbanity. 

"That seems to settle the matter. I'll call my brother up and make anappointment. "

Over the wire Jack put the case to his brother. Presently he hung upthe receiver. "We'll go right over, Miss McLean. "

They went down the elevator and passed through the lower hall of thebuilding to Sixteenth Street. As they walked along Stout to theEquitable 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 notwant to show. What was this girl, the sister of Esther McLean, goingto tell him and his brother? What did she know about the murder of hisuncle? 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 notthink so. He liked girls who were good sportsmen and played the gamehard. But he was talking merely to bridge a mental stress. "Thinkthey can do anything a man can. 'Fess up, Miss McLean. You'd try toride any horse I could, no matter how mettlesome it was. Now wouldn'tyou?"

"I wouldn't go that far, " she said dryly. For an instant the thoughtflickered through her mind that she would like to get thisspick-and-span riding-school model on the back of Wild Fire and see howlong 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 ofEsther McLean could want to talk with him. Did she intend to bereasonable? Would she accept a monetary settlement and avoid thepublicity that could only hurt her sister as well as the reputation ofthe name of Cunningham? Or did she mean to try to impose impossibleconditions? How much did she know and how much guess? Until hediscovered that he meant to play his cards close. 

Characteristically, Rose came directly to the point after the first fewwords of introduction. 

"You know my sister, Esther McLean, a stenographer of your uncle?" sheasked. 

The girl was standing. She had declined a chair. She stoodstraight-backed as an Indian, carrying her head with fine spirit. Hereyes attacked the oil broker, would not yield a thousandth part of aninch 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 regretit. Anything in reason that we can do we shall, of course, holdourselves bound for. "

He flashed a glance at Jack who murmured a hurried agreement. Theyounger 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 myopinion of the . . . The creature who could take advantage of such agirl's love. I intend to see justice is done my sister, as far as itcan now be done. But not to-day. First, I'm here to ask you if you'refriends of Kirby Lane. Do you believe he killed his uncle?"

"No, " replied James promptly. "I am quite sure he didn't kill him. Iam 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 testimonyshowed that Kirby went to his uncle's apartment about 9. 20 and leftnearly 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?" Jamessaid at last. 

"I was. I came to Denver to see him--to get justice for my sister. Ididn'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 aqueer note of anxiety in it. "Did your sister ever tell you that myuncle 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 signedwith 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 finishedher story. "

"I made an appointment with him after I had tried all day to get him onthe '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. Hedidn't want to see me, but I wouldn't let him off till he agreed. Sohe told me to come to the Paradox and he would give me ten minutes. Hetold me not to come till nearly ten, as he would be busy. I think hehoped that by putting it so late and at his rooms he would deter mefrom coming. But I intended to see him. He couldn't get away from meso easily as that. I went. "

Jack moistened dry lips. His debonair ease had quite vanished. "Whendid 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 attitudewas tense. His eyes burned with excitement. 

"Was it light enough to tell who they were?" James asked. His coldeyes did not lift from hers until she answered. 

"No. It was entirely dark. The woman was on the other side of theman. I wouldn't have been sure she was a woman except for the rustleof 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 possiblyrecognize either of them, " James Cunningham said, still lookingstraight at her. 

She hesitated an instant. Somehow she did not quite like the way heput 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 thedoor. Nobody answered, but the door was wide open. I rang again, thenwent 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 becauseI thought maybe he--your uncle--was trying to dodge me. I looked intothe bedroom. He wasn't there. So after a little I went to a door intoanother room that was shut and knocked on it. I don't know why Iopened it when no answer came. Something seemed to move my hand to theknob. I switched the light on there. "

"Yes?" James asked, gently. 

The girl gulped. She made a weak, small gesture with her hand, asthough to push from her mind the horrible sight her eyes had lookedupon. "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. Myknees were weak, and I felt awf'lly queer in the head. I was crazy toget 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 Iheard some one comin' up the stairs, and I knew I mustn't be caughtthere. I switched off the lights just as some one came to the landingoutside. "

"Who was it? Did he come in?" asked Jack. 

"He rang and knocked two or three times. Then he came in. I wasstanding by the table with my hand on some kind of heavy metalpaperweight. His hand was groping for the light switch. I could tellthat. He must have heard me, for he called out, 'Who's there?' In thedarkness there I was horribly frightened. He might be the murderercome back. If not, of course he'd think I had done it. So I tried toslip by him. He jumped at me and caught me by the hand. I pulled awayfrom him and hit hard at his face. The paper-weight was still in myhand and he went down just as though a hammer had hit him. I ran outof 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. "Whydidn'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 toEsther. I suppose I'd made wild threats. Besides, I left my glovethere--on the table, I think. I'd taken it off with some notion ofwriting a note telling your uncle I had been there and that he had tosee me next day. "

"The police didn't find a woman's glove in the room, did they?" Jamesasked his brother. 

"Didn't hear of it if they did, " Jack replied. 

"That's it, you see, " explained Rose. "Kirby would know my glove. Itwas a small riding-gauntlet with a rose embroidered on it. He probablytook it with him when he left. He kept still about the whole thingbecause 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 ifthey 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 handson that. But about your story. I don't quite see how we're going touse it. We must protect your sister, too, as well as my cousin. If wego 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 aboutEsther then and the papers would get it and scatter the storyeverywhere. "

"Exactly. We must protect her first. Kirby wouldn't want anythingdone that would hurt her. Suppose we put it up to him and see what hewants 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. Ifher sister had not been a factor of the equation she would have gonestraight to the police with her story and suffered arrest gladly tohelp her friend. But the circumstances did not permit a heroicgesture. 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 storyto the district attorney he'll probably arrest her. It'll come outabout her sister an' the papers will run scare-heads. No need of ita-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. Hefelt a reluctant admiration for this virile cousin so picturesquelycompetent, so clean-cut and four-square of mind. Was he in love withthe Wild Rose from Wyoming, whose spirit also was like a breath fromthe sweet hill pines? Or was his decision only the expression of anative chivalry that went out to all his friends and perhaps to allwomen?

"They'd certainly arrest her, " Jack commented. "From a lawyer's pointof view there's every reason why they should. Motive for the crime, sufficient; intention to force the victim to make reparation or punishhim, declared openly; opportunity to commit it, confessed; presence onscene and eagerness to escape being seen there, admitted. The caseagainst her is stronger than the one against you. " He offered thislast 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 ofmustache, 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 inthe 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 ofpolice. "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 away, 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 youknew Miss McLean you couldn't misjudge her so. She thinks an' acts asstraight as a man. "

"I don't say she did it, old top. I'm merely pointing out that it'spossible she did. Point of fact your friend made a hit with me. I'dsay she's a game little thoroughbred. "

"You an' James will regard what she told you as confidential, ofcourse. "

"Of course. We're of your mind, too, though I put her proposition toyou. Can't see anything to be gained by airing her story unless it'sabsolutely necessary on your account. By the way, James wants me totell you that he thinks you won't have to spend another night at thisdelightful hotel the city keeps for its guests. Bond has beenpractically 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 asclear as mud, " he predicted. 

By the middle of the afternoon Kirby was free. After he had talkedover with James a plan of campaign, he called Rose up on the telephoneand told her he would be right out to Cherokee Street. 

She came to meet him in the stuffy parlor of the boarding-house withhand outstretched. 

"Oh, Kirby, I'm so glad to see you and so sorry I was such a horridlittle beast last time we met. I'm ashamed of myself. My temperexplodes so--and after you came to Denver to help me and gave up somuch 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 toimpose on you. Now you're in trouble because of me. I should thinkyou'd pretty near hate me. "

"We're in trouble together, " he corrected. "I thought that wassupposed to bring friends closer an' not to drive them apart. "

She flashed a quick look at him and changed the subject ofconversation. 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 theman 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 whathappened the evenin' of the murder. "

She told again the story she had confessed to his cousins. He askedquestions, pushed home inquiries. When she mentioned the woman who hadpassed her on the stairs he showed a keen interest. 

"You say you knew it was a woman with the man by the perfume. Whatkind 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'srooms. "

"Looks like it, " he nodded in agreement. 

"Then we've got to find her. She must have been in his apartment whenhe 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'vesolved the mystery, " the girl cried eagerly. 

"That's not quite all, " said Kirby, smiling at the way her mind leapedgaps. "We've got to induce them to talk, an' it's not certain theyknow any more than we do. "

"Her skirts rustled like silk and the perfume wasn't cheap. I couldn'treally see her, but I knew she was well dressed, " Rose told him. 

"Well, that's somethin', " he said with the whimsical quirk to his mouthshe knew of old. "We'll advertise for a well-dressed lady who usesviolet perfume. Supposed to be connected with the murder at theParadox Apartments. Generous reward an' many questions asked. "

His badinage was of the surface only. The subconscious mind of therough rider was preoccupied with a sense of a vague groping. Thethought of violet perfume associated itself with something else inaddition to the darkness of his uncle's living-room, but he did notfind himself able to localize the nebulous memory. Where was it hisnostrils had whiffed the scent more recently?

"Don't you think we ought to see all the tenants at the Paradox andtalk with them? Some of them may have seen people going in or out. Orthey 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 forthe 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', " hedrawled. "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 hewould have gone to his uncle's apartment, locked the door, measured therooms with a tape-line, found imprints of fingers on a door panel, andcarefully gathered into an envelope the ashes from the cigar his unclehad been smoking. The data obtained would have proved conclusivelythat Cunningham had come to his death at the hands of a Brahmin of highcaste on account of priceless gems stolen from a temple in India. Ananalysis of the cigar ashes would have shown that a subtle poison, unknown to the Western world, had caused the victim's heart to stopbeating exactly two minutes and twelve seconds after taking the firstpuff at the cigar. Thus the fictional ethics of the situation wouldhave been correctly met. 

But Kirby was only a plain, outdoors Westerner. He did not know theconventional method of procedure. It did not even occur to him atfirst that Apartment 12 might still have secrets to tell him after thepolice and the reporters had pawed over it for several days. But hissteps turned back several times to the Paradox as the center from whichall clues must emanate. He found himself wandering around in thatvicinity trying to pick up some of the pieces of the Chinese puzzlethat made up the mystery of his uncle's death. 

It was on one of these occasions that he and Rose met his cousin Jamescoming out of the apartment house. Cunningham was a man of admirableself-control, but he looked shaken this morning. His hand trembled asit met that of his cousin. In his eyes was the look of a man who hassuffered a shock. 

"I've been sitting alone for an hour in the room where Uncle James methis death--been arranging his papers, " he explained. "It began to getmy nerve. I couldn't stand it any longer. The horrible thing keptjumping 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 towalk down. I've wrenched my arm badly. Maybe I've broken it. "

"Oh, I hope not, " Rose said quickly, a warm sympathy in her vibrantyoung 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 littleJapanese well on toward middle life, a small-featured man with small, neat feet. 

"You feelum all right yes now?" he asked, directing his slant, ovaleyes toward Cunningham. 

"Yes, I've got over the nausea, thanks, Shibo. " James turned to theothers. "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, Isuppose. Anyhow, I've had two or three dizzy spells lately. Nothingserious, though. "

"I don't wonder. You sit at a desk too much, James. What you need isexercise. If you'd get in the saddle a couple o' hours a day an' dosome 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 hisoffice. Fact is, I'm feeling quite myself again. "

"Well, if you're sure. Prob'ly you've only sprained your arm. By theway, 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 anybodyelse in. Tell you what I'll do. I'll see him about it and get apermit for you. Say, Kirby, I've been thinking one of us ought to goup to Dry Valley and check things up there. We might find out whowrote that note to Uncle. Maybe some one has been making threats inpublic. We could see who was in town from there last week. Could yougo? To-day? Train leaves in half an hour. "

Kirby could and would. He left Rose to talk with the tenants of theParadox Apartments, entrained for Dry Valley at once, and by noon waswinding over the hilltops far up in the Rockies. 

He left the train at Summit, a small town which was the center ofactivities for Dry Valley. Here the farmers bought their supplies andhere they marketed their butter and eggs. In the fall they drove intheir cattle and loaded them for Denver at the chutes in the railroadyard. 

There had been times in the past when Summit ebbed and flowed with arip-roaring tide of turbulent life. This had been after the round-upsin the golden yesterday when every other store building had beenoccupied by a saloon and the rattle of chips lasted far into the smallhours of night. Now Colorado was dry and the roulette wheel had goneto join memories of the past. Summit was quiet as a Sunday afternoonon a farm. Its busiest inhabitant was a dog which lay in the sun andlazily poked over its own anatomy for fleas. 

Kirby registered at the office of the frame building which carried onits false front the word HOTEL. This done, he wandered down to theshack which bore the inscription, "Dry Valley Enterprise. " The ownerof the paper, who was also editor, reporter, pressman, businessmanager, and circulator, chanced to be in printing some dodgersannouncing a dance at Odd Fellows' Hall. He desisted from his laborsto chat with the stranger. 

The editor was a fat, talkative little man. Kirby found it no troubleat all to set him going on the subject of James Cunningham, Senior. Infact, during his stay in the valley the Wyoming man could always usethat name as an "Open Sesame. " It unlocked all tongues. Cunninghamand his mysterious death were absorbing topics. The man was hated byscores who had been brought close to ruin by his chicanery. Dry Valleyrejoiced 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 itwas this fellow Hull, the slicker that helped him put through the DryValley steal. 'Course it might 'a' been the Jap, or it might 'a' beenthe nephew from Wyoming, but I'll say it was Hull. We know that cussHull 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 roperound 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 thelatest issue of the "Enterprise" while the editor pulled off the restof the dodgers. In the local news column he found several items thatinterested him. These were:

Jim Harkins is down in Denver on business and won't be home tillMonday. Have a good time, Jim. 

T. J. Lupton is enjoying a few days vacation in the Queen City. Heexpects 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 threedays' visit in the capital. A good time was had by both. You want towatch them, girls. The boys are both live ones. 

Oscar Olson spent a few days in Denver this week. Oscar owns a placethree miles out of town on the Spring Creek road. 

Casually Kirby gathered information. He learned that Jim Harkins wasthe town constable and not interested in land; that Lupton was a veryprosperous cattleman whose ranch was nowhere near the district promotedby Cunningham; and that Jelks and Mosely were young fellows more orless connected with the garage. The editor knew Olson only slightly. 

"He's a Swede--big, fair fellow--got caught in that irrigation fake ofHull and Cunningham. Don't know what he was doin' in Denver, " thenewspaperman 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 inDenver at the time Cunningham was killed. But the others he saw onlyto eliminate them from suspicion. One glance at each of them wasenough to give them a clean bill so far as the mystery went. They knewnothing whatever about it. 

Lane rode out to Olson's place and found him burning brush. Thecattleman explained that he was from Wyoming and wanted to sell someregistered Herefords. 

Olson looked over his dry, parched crops with sardonic bitterness. "DoI look like I could buy registered stock?" he asked sourly. 

Kirby made a remark that set the ranchman off. He said that the cropslooked as though they needed water. Inside of five minutes he hadheard the story of the Dry Valley irrigation swindle. Olson was not aforeigner. He had been born in Minnesota and attended the publicschools. He spoke English idiomatically and without an accent. Theman was a tall, gaunt, broad-shouldered Scandinavian of more thanaverage intelligence. 

The death of Cunningham had not apparently assuaged his intense hatredof 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 hangHull for it!" he cried vindictively. 

"Seems to be some doubt whether Hull did it, " suggested Kirby, to drawhim on. 

"That so? Mebbe there's evidence you don't know about. " The words hadcome out in the heat of impulse, shot at Kirby tensely andbreathlessly. Olson looked at the man on the horse and Lane could seecaution grow on him. A film of suspicion spread over the pupilsbeneath the heavy, ragged eyebrows. "I ain't sayin' so. All I'm deadsure of is that Hull did it. "

Kirby fired a shot point-blank at him. "Nobody can be dead sure ofthat unless he saw him do it. "

"Mebbe some one saw him do it. Folks don't tell all they know. " Olsonlooked across the desert beyond the palpitating heat waves to themountains 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 dowith it than I had, but she's likely to get into mighty serious troublejust the same. "

"I ain't read anything in the papers about any girl, " Olson answeredsullenly. 

"No, it hasn't got to the papers yet. But it will. It's up to everyman who knows anything about this to come clean. "

"Is it?" The farmer looked bleakly at his visitor. "Seems to me youtake 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 heresellin' 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 hardand defiant. 

"I wanted to have a look at the man who wrote the note to JamesCunningham threatenin' to dry-gulch him if he ever came to Dry Valleyagain. "

It was a center shot. Kirby was sure of it. He read it in the man'sface before anger began to gather in it. 

"I'm the man who wrote that letter, am I?" The lips of Olson weredrawn 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' thethird at the office of the 'Enterprise. ' You wrote an article urgin'the Dry Valley people to fight Cunningham. That article, in your ownhandwritin', 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 wrotethe article that wrote the letter to Cunningham. "

"Prove it! Prove it!"

"The paper used in both cases was torn from the same tablet. Thewritin' is the same. "

"You've got a nerve to come out here an' tell me I'm the man thatkilled 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 Ithought when I came was that you might know somethin' about it. Ididn't come out here to trap you. My idea is that Hull did it. ButI've made up my mind you're hidin' somethin'. I'm sure of it. You asgood as told me so. What is it?" Kirby, resting easy in the saddlewith his weight on one stirrup, looked straight into the rancher's eyesas 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 mystory. "

"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'tanything to fear, " he said. 

"Hasn't he?" Olson picked up a stone and flung it at a pile of rockshe had gathered fifty yards away. He was left-handed. "How do youknow he hasn't? Say, just for argument, I do know somethin'. Say Ipractically 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 Icouldn't. Wouldn't the lawyers want to know howcome I to be so handyto the place where the killin' was, right at the very time it tookplace, 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 yousee 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 wasstringin' you. "

Kirby knew he had overshot the mark. He had been too eager and hadalarmed the man. He was annoyed at himself. It would take time andpatience and finesse to recover lost ground. Shrewdly he guessed atthe rancher's state of mind. The man wanted to tell something, wasdivided in mind whether to come forward as a witness or keep silent. His evidence, it was clear enough, would implicate Hull; but, perhapsindirectly, it would involve himself, too. 

"Well, whatever it is you know, I hope you'll tell it, " the cattlemansaid. "But that's up to you, not me. If Hull is the murderer, I wantthe 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 testimonyagainst him loses force if it's held out too long. The question comesup, why didn't the witness come right forward at once. No, I reckonHull will get away with it--if he really did it. "

"Don't you think it, " Olson snapped out. "They've pretty nearly gotenough now to convict him. "

The rough rider laughed cynically. "Convict him! They haven't enoughagainst him even to make an arrest. They've got a dozen times as muchagainst me an' they turned me loose. He's quite safe if he keeps hismouth shut--an' he will. "

Olson flung a greasewood shrub on a pile of brush. His mind, Kirbycould see, was busy with the problem before it. The man's caution andhis vindictive desire for vengeance were at war. He knew something, evidence that would tend to incriminate Hull, and he was afraid tobring it to the light of day. He worked automatically, and the man onhorseback 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 askedharshly. 

"Nothin'. I'm goin' now. " He wrote his Denver address on a card. "Ifyou 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. IfHull did it I want him found guilty. So long. "

He handed Olson his card. The man tossed it away. Kirby turned hishorse toward town. Five minutes later he looked back. The settler hadwalked across to the place where he had thrown the card and wasapparently picking it up. 

The man from Wyoming smiled. He had a very strong hunch that Olsonwould call on him within a week or ten days. Of course he wasdisappointed, but he knew the game had to be played with patience. Atleast he had learned something. The man had in his possession evidencevitally important. Kirby meant to get that evidence from him somehowby hook or crook. 

What was it the man knew? Was it possible he could have killedCunningham himself and be trying to throw the blame of it on Hull? Wasthat why he was afraid to come out in the open with what testimony hehad? Kirby could not forget the bitter hatred of Cunningham the farmercherished. That hatred extended to Hull. What a sweet revenge to killone enemy and let the other one hang for the crime!

A detail jumped to his mind. Olson had picked up a stone and thrown itto 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 animitation-leather suitcase. He did not take a car, but walked upSeventeenth 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 onthe shoulder with a heavy brown fist. 

"I'm sure enough glad to see you, Mr. Champeen-of-the-World, " Kirbyanswered, falling into the easy vernacular of the outdoor country. "Come to the big town to spend that thousand dollars you won the otherday?"

"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 plumbdisappointed 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 thatcircuit an' do stunts, but I don't reckon I will. Claims he's got atrained bronc I can show on. "

"Me, I'm gonna be busy as a dog with fleas, " said Kirby. "I got tofind out who killed my uncle. Suspicion rests on me, on a man namedHull, 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 suspicionswill be headed that way right soon if I don't get busy. She thinks herevidence will clear me. It won't. It'll add a motive for me to havekilled him. The detectives will figure out we did it together, Rosean' me. "

"Hell's bells! Ain't they got no sense a-tall?"

Kirby looked at his watch. "I'm headed right now for the apartmentwhere my uncle was killed. Gonna look the ground over. Wanta comealong?"

"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 hishigh-heeled boots beside his friend. Both of them were splendidexamples of physical manhood. The sun tan was on their faces, theripple of health in their blood. But there was this difference betweenthem, that while it was written on every inch of Sanborn that he livedastride a cow-pony, Kirby might have been an irrigation engineer or amining man from the hills. He had neither the bow legs nor theungraceful roll of the man who rides most of his waking hours. Hisclothes were well made and he knew how to carry them. 

As they walked across to Fourteenth Street, Kirby told as much of thestory as he could without betraying Esther McLean's part in it. Hetrusted 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. "Theywould 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 policedon'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 toyour going in. "

Sanborn applied his shrewd common sense to the problem as he listenedto Kirby. 

"Looks to me like you're overlookin' a bet, son, " he said. "What aboutthis Jap fellow? Why did he light out so _pronto_ if he ain't in thisthing?"

"He might 'a' gone because he's a foreigner an' guessed they'd throw iton him. They would, too, if they could. "

"Shucks! He had a better reason than that for cuttin' his stick. Surehad. 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 thepresent. There are possibilities right here on the ground that haven'tbeen 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 theapartment. My hunch is that the man an' the woman were comin' from myuncle'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 womangoin' 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 thedark stairs an' didn't take the elevator. "

"Just the same I'd like to find out who that man an' woman are, " Kirbysaid. He lifted his hand in a small gesture. "This is the ParadoxApartments. "

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 thatkilled 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 aword to say to you--not a word--not a word!" He came puffing down thesteps and went waddling on his way. 

"What do you think of that prize package, Cole?" asked Lane, his eyesfollowing 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 muchfarther. My vote is for Mr. Cass Hull--with reservations. "

CHAPTER XIX

A DISCOVERY

The men from Wyoming stepped into the elevator and Kirby pressed thebutton numbered 3. At the third floor they got out and turned to theright. With the Yale key his cousin had given him Kirby opened thedoor of Apartment 12. 

He knew that there was not an inch of space in the rooms that thepolice and the newspaper reporters had not raked as with a fine-toothcomb for clues. The desk had been ransacked, the books and magazinesshaken, the rugs taken up. There was no chance that he would discoveranything 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 therest. Nothing of importance had developed from these talks. Some didnot care to say anything. Others wanted to gossip a whole afternoonaway, but knew no more than what the newspapers had told them. Thesingle fact that stood out from her inquiries was that those who livedin the three apartments nearest to Number 12 had all been out of thehouse on the evening of the twenty-third. The man who rented the roomsnext those of Cunningham had left for Chicago on the twenty-second andhad not yet returned to Denver. 

Cole took in the easy-chairs, the draperies, and the soft rugs with anappreciative eye. "The old boy believed in solid comfort. Youwouldn't think to look at this that he'd spent years on a bronc's backbuckin' blizzards. Some luxury, I'll say! Looks like one o' thempalaces of the vamp ladies the movies show. "

Kirby wasted no time in searching the apartment for evidence. Whatinterested him was its entrances and its exits, its relation toadjoining rooms and buildings. He had reason to believe that, betweennine o'clock and half-past ten on the night of the twenty-third, notless than eight persons in addition to Cunningham had been in theapartment. How had they all managed to get in and out without beingseen by each other?

Lane talked aloud, partly to clear his own thought and partly to putthe situation before his friend. 

"O' course I don't _know_ every one of the eight was here. I'mguessin' from facts I do know, makin' inferences, as you might say. Tobegin with, I was among those present. So was Rose. We don't need toguess 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 forexplanations. 

"The lady of the violet perfume an' her escort were here, " Kirby wenton. "At least she was--most prob'ly he was, too. It's a cinch theHulls were in the rooms. They were scared stiff when I saw 'em alittle later. They lied on the witness stand so as to clear themselvesan' 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 hemust 'a' been present himself. Then there's the Jap Horikawa. He'dbeat it before the police went to his room to arrest him at daybreakthe mornin' after the murder. How did he know my uncle had beenkilled? 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 eyeshad told him so. "

"I'll say he did, " agreed Sanborn. 

"Good enough. That makes eight of us that came an' went. We don'tneed to figure on Rose an' me. I came by the door an' went by the fireescape. She walked upstairs an' down, too. The violet lady an' theman with her took the stairs down. We know that. But how about Hullan' Olson an' the Jap? Here's another point. Say it was 9. 50 whenRose 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 hadit half smoked before he was tied to the chair. That cuts down to lessthan 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 avisit here, one of the six stayin' long enough to go through his deskan' look over a whole lot o' papers. Some o' these people were sureenough treadin' close on each other's heels an' I reckon some weremakin' quick getaways. "

"Looks reasonable, " Cole admitted. 

"I'll bet I wasn't the only man in a hurry that night an' not the onlyone trapped here. The window of the den was open when I came. Don'tyou reckon some one else beat it by the fire escape?"'

"Might've. "

They passed into the small room where James Cunningham had met hisdeath. Broad daylight though it was, Kirby felt for an instant atightening at his heart. In imagination he saw again the gargoyle grinon the dead face upturned to his. With an effort he pushed from himthe grewsome memory. 

The chair in which the murdered man had been found was gone. Thedistrict attorney had taken it for an exhibit at the trial of the manupon whom evidence should fasten. The littered papers had been sortedand 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. Helooked out at the fire escape and at the wall of the rooming-houseacross the alley. Denver is still young. It offers the incongruitiesof the West. The Paradox Apartments had been remodeled and were modernand up to date. Adjoining it was the Wyndham Hotel, a survival ofearlier 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 ofthe 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 myuncle 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 adead-center shot. "

Cole thought it out. "Yes, he could, if yore uncle had been facin' thewindow. 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'retravelin' 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 tothe 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 theroom 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 waspowder-marked, showin' he was shot from right close. "

"Yes, that's so, " agreed Lane, surrendering his brilliant ideareluctantly. A moment, and his face brightened. "Look, Cole! Thecorridor of that hotel runs back from the fire escape. If a fellow hadbeen standin' there he could 'a' seen into the room if the blind wasn'tdown. "

"Sure enough, " agreed Sanborn. "If the murderer had give him an inviteto a grand-stand seat. But prob'ly he didn't. "

"No, but it was hot that night. A man roomin' at the Wyndham mightcome out to get a breath of air, say, an' if he had he might 'a' seensomethin'. "

"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 inconcentration of thought. "That's good guessin', Kirby. It may be'way off; then again it may be absolutely correct. Let's find out ifOlson stayed at the Wyndham whilst he was in Denver. He'd be more aptto 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 anygood. Prove to me that the Swede stayed there an' I'll say he's asliable as Hull to be guilty. He could 'a' throwed a rope round thatstone curlycue stickin' out up there above us, swung acrost to the fireescape here, an' walked right in on Cunningham. "

Lane's quick glance swept the abutment above and the distance betweenthe buildings. 

"You're shoutin', Cole. He could 'a' done just that. Or he might havebeen 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 traila-tall. "

"We'll check up on that first. Chances are ten to one we're barkin' upthe 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 thelandlady kept a register for her guests. She brought it out into thehall from her room for the Wyoming men to look at. 

There, under date of the twenty-first, they found the name they werelooking for. Oscar Olson had put up at the Wyndham. He had stayedthree nights, checking out on the twenty-fourth. 

The friends walked into the street and back toward the Paradox withouta word. As they stepped into the elevator again. Lane looked at hisfriend and smiled. 

"I've a notion Mr. Olson had a right interestin' trip to Denver, " hesaid quietly. 

"I'll say he had, " answered Sanborn. "An' that ain't but half of iteither. 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 studiedthe relation of his uncle's apartment to the building opposite. He hadnot yet examined it with reference to the adjoining rooms. 

"While we're cuttin' trail might as well be thorough, " he said to hisfriend. "The miscreant that did this killin' might 'a' walked out thedoor or he might 'a' come through the window here. If he did thatlast, which fork of the road did he take? He could go down the ladderor swing across to the Wyndham an' slip into the corridor. Let's makesure 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 fireescape. But the nearest window of the one to the rear was closer. Beneath it ran a stone ledge. An active man could swing himself fromthe railing of the platform to the coping and force an entrance intothat apartment through the window. 

Kirby glanced up and down the alley. A department store delivery autowas moving out of sight. Nobody was in the line of vision except anoccasional pedestrian passing on the sidewalk at the entrances to thealley. 

"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, hiseyes dancing. "I'd kinda hate to see you do twenty years. "

"They have to catch the rabbit before they cook it, old-timer. Heregoes. 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 shemassacrees you, " the world's champion announced, grinning. 

"Wrong guess, Cole. The boss of this hacienda is a man, an' he's inChicago right now. "

"You're the dawg-gonedest go-getter I ever threw in with, " Sanbornadmitted. "All right. Go to it. If I gotta go to the calaboose Igotta go, that's all. "

Kirby stepped lightly to the railing, edged far out with his weight onthe ledge, and swung to the window-sill. The sash yielded to thepressure of his hands and moved up. A moment later he disappeared fromSanborn'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 andblue. The furniture was of fumed oak, the chairs leather-padded. 

The self-invited guest met his first surprise on the table. It waslittered with two or three newspapers. The date of the uppermostcaught his eye. It was a copy of the "Post" of the twenty-fifth. Helooked 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 longaccounts of the developments in the Cunningham murder mystery. 

How did these papers come here? The apartment was closed, its tenantin Chicago. The only other persons who had a key and the right ofentry were Horikawa and the Paradox janitor, and the house servant hadfled to parts unknown. Who, then, had brought these papers here? Andwhy? Some one, Lane guessed, who was vitally interested in the murder. He based his presumption on one circumstance. The sections of thenewspapers which made no reference to the Cunningham affair had beenjammed into the waste-paper basket close to an adjoining desk. 

The apartment held two rooms, a buffet kitchen and a bathroom. Kirbyopened the door into the bedroom. 

He stood paralyzed on the threshold. On the bed, fully dressed, hislegs stretched in front of him and his feet crossed, was the missingman Horikawa. His torso was propped up against the brass posts of thebedstead. A handkerchief encircled each arm and bound it to the brassupright 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 manyhours. 

The cattleman had no doubt that it was Horikawa. His picture, a goodsnapshot taken by a former employer at a picnic where the Japanese hadserved the luncheon, had appeared in all the papers and on handbillssent out by James Cunningham, Junior. There was a scar, Y-shaped andragged, 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 facebacked 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 theair. 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 theother, " suggested Lane. He added, after a moment, "Or for revenge, because Horikawa killed my uncle. If he did, fate couldn't have sent aretribution 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 withminds 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 manbossed both jobs. "

"Yes, " agreed Kirby. "The odds are all that way. "

He stepped closer and looked at the greenish-yellow flesh. "May havebeen dead a couple o' days, " he continued. 

"What was the sense in killin' him? What for? How did he come intoit?" Cole's boyish face wrinkled in perplexity. "I don't make head ortail 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 hehad to say. "He wasn't killed right after yore uncle. Where was hewhile 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' ifthe folks that finally bumped him off knew he didn't aim to tell whathe 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 couldguess at one or two answers, but they likely wouldn't be right. F'rinstance, I could guess that he was here in this room from the time myuncle was killed till he met his own death. "

"In this room?"

"In these apartments. Never left 'em, most likely. What's more, someone 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, " answeredKirby with a grim, mirthless smile. 

"How do you know all that?"

Lane told him of the mute testimony of the newspapers in theliving-room. "Some one brought those papers to him every day, " headded. 

"And then killed him. Does that look reasonable to you?"

"We don't know the circumstances. Say, to make a long shot, that theJap had been hired to kill my uncle by this other man, and say he wasbeginnin' to get ugly an' make threats. Or say Horikawa knew about thekillin' of my uncle an' was hired by the other man to keep away. Thenhe learns from the papers that he's suspected, an' he gets anxious togo to the police with what he knows. Wouldn't there be reason enoughthen to kill him? The other man would have to do it to save himself. "

"I reckon. " Cole harked back to a preceding suggestion. "The revengetheory won't hold water. If some friend of yore uncle knew the Jap hadkilled him he'd sick the law on him. He wouldn't pull off any privateexecution like this. "

Kirby accepted this. "That's true. There's another possibility. We've been forgettin' the two thousand dollars my uncle drew from thebank the day he was killed. If Horikawa an' some one else are guiltyof the murder an' the theft, they might have quarreled later over themoney. Perhaps the accomplice saw a chance to get away with the wholeof it by gettin' rid of Horikawa. "

"Mebbeso. By what you tell me yore uncle was a big, two-fistedscrapper. It was a two-man job to handle him. This li'l' Jap never inthe world did it alone. What it gets back to is that he was prob'ly inon it an' later for some reason his pardner gunned him. "

"Well, we'd better telephone for the police an' let them do some of theworryin'. "

Kirby stepped into the living-room, followed by his friend. He wasabout to reach for the receiver when an exclamation stopped him. Sanborn was standing before a small writing-desk, of which he had justlet down the top. He had lifted idly a piece of blotting-paper and wasgazing 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 thesheet and found there the pot-hooks we have learned to associate withChinese 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 thewriting. "Might be a letter to his folks--or it might be--" Hissentence flickered out. He was thinking. "I reckon I'll take thisalong with me an' have it translated, Cole. "

He put the sheets in his pocket after he had folded them. "You nevercan tell. I might as well know what this Horikawa was thinkin' aboutfirst off as the police. There's just an off chance he might 'a' seenRose 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 thejanitor 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 theman 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 weare 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 countrymanwithout 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 aboutJapanese 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. Asergeant of police and two plainclothes men took the elevator. Thesergeant, heading the party, stopped in the doorway of the apartmentand 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 thecoroner's inquest. It had annoyed him that the authorities had laterreleased the prisoner on bond. 

"Have you touched the body or moved anything since you came?" thesergeant demanded. 

"No, sir, to both questions, except the telephone when I used it toreach headquarters. "

The officer made no answer. He and the detectives went into thebedroom, examined the dead valet's position and clothes, made a tour ofthe 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 wentback to Kirby sullenly. 

"What you doing here?"

"We were in my uncle's apartment lookin' things over. We stepped outon the fire escape an' happened to notice this window here was open alittle. It just came over me that mebbe we might discover someevidence 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 knowwith heavy sarcasm. 

"I hired myself. My good name is involved. I'm goin' to see themurderer 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, butbefore we're through with this case you'll have to admit you've beenwrong. "

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 atthe position in which he stood. He had half a mind to arrest the managain on the spot, but he was not sure enough of his ground. Not verylong since he had missed a promotion by being overzealous. He did notwant to make the same mistake twice. 

The Wyoming men walked across to Seventeenth Street and down it to theEquitable 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. Inhis face was a flicker almost of consternation at this follow-upmurder. He might have been asking himself how much more trouble wascoming. 

"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 getto read it for us, a reliable man, one who won't talk if we ask him notto. "

The broker's desk buzzer rang. He talked for a moment over thetelephone, 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'sfiancée, perhaps you know. There are some affairs of the estate to bearranged. I wonder if you could come back later this afternoon. Sayabout four o'clock. We'll take up then the business of thetranslation. 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 itI'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 Ifell. 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 shadowedand careworn. 

They walked together as far as the outer office. A slender, dark youngwoman, beautifully gowned, was waiting there. James introduced her tohis 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. Whenshe moved, the soft lines of her body took on a sinuous grace. Fromher 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 thingsabout you from James--and Jack. "

She did not offer her hand to Sanborn, perhaps because she was busybuttoning one of the long gloves. Instead, she gave him a flash of hereyes 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 associateditself with his first visit to his uncle's apartment. He did notstart. His eyes did not betray him. His face could be wooden onoccasion, and it told no stories now. But his mind was filled withracing thoughts. Had Phyllis Harriman been the woman Rose had met onthe stairs? What had she been doing in Cunningham's room? Who was theman with her? What secret connected with his uncle's death lay hiddenback of the limpid innocence of those dark, shadowed eyes? She was oneof those women who are forever a tantalizing mystery to men. What wasshe like behind the inscrutable, charming mask of her face?

Lane carried this preoccupation with him throughout the afternoon. Itwas still in the hinterland of his thoughts when he returned to hiscousin's office. 

His entrance was upon a scene of agitated storm. His cousin was in theouter office facing a clerk. In his eyes there was a cold fury ofanger that surprised Kirby. He had known James always asself-restrained to the point of chilliness. Now his anger seemed toleap 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 trustedand found wholly unworthy. "

"I'm sorry, Mr. Cunningham, " the clerk said humbly. "I don't see how Ilost the paper, if I did, sir. I was very careful when I took thedeeds and leases out of the safe. It seems hardly possible--"

"But you lost it. Nobody else could have done it. I don't wantexcuses. You can go, sir. " Cunningham turned abruptly to his cousin. "The sheets of paper with the Japanese writing have been lost. Thisman, by some piece of inexcusable carelessness, took them with a bundleof 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 oughtto turn up somewhere. This clerk probably dropped them. I've sent anadvertisement to the afternoon papers. "

Kirby was taken aback at this unexpected mischance, but there was nouse wasting nerve energy in useless fretting. He regretted having leftthe papers with James, for he felt that in them might be the key to themystery of the Cunningham case. But he had no doubt that his cousinwas more distressed about the loss than he was. He comforted himselfwith the reflection that a thorough search would probably restore them, anyhow. 

He asked Hudson a few questions and had the man show them exactly wherehe had picked up the papers he took to the lawyer. James listened, hisanger 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 musthave laid the writing very close in the safe to the other papers. Hadn't you better give Hudson another chance before you fire him?" Hisdisarming smile robbed both the criticism and the suggestion of anyoffense they might otherwise have had. 

In the end he persuaded Cunningham to withdraw his discharge of theclerk. 

"He doesn't deserve it, " James grumbled. "He's maybe spoiled ourchance of laying hands on the man who killed Uncle. I can't get overmy 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 hisdead hand. "

Cunningham looked at him, and again the faint, ironic smile ofadmiration was in evidence. "You're confident, Kirby. "

"Why wouldn't I be? With you an' Rose McLean an' Cole Sanborn an' Iall followin' the fellow's trail, he can't double an' twist enough tomake a getaway. We'll ride him down sure. "

"Maybe we will and maybe we won't, " the oil broker replied. "I'd giveodds 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. Herluxuriant, blue-black hair had been dressed and she was debating theimportant question as to what gown she would wear. The business of herlife was to make an effective carnal appeal, and she had a very suresense 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 oneof amusement. In the dark eyes a hint of adventure sparked. Herpulses beat with a little glow of triumph. For this young woman was ofthe born coquettes. She could no more resist alluring an attractiveman and playing with him to his subsequent mental discomfort than shecould refrain from bridge drives and dinner dances. This Wild Man fromWyoming, so strong of stride, so quietly competent, whose sardonicglance had taken her in so directly and so keenly, was a foeman worthyof her weapons. 

"Good gracious!" she murmured, "does he usually call in the middle ofthe 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 notalways 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 mainreception-room, but it had a note of warmth, of friendly and seductiveintimacy. Its walls whispered of tête-à-têtes, the cushions hinted atinteresting secrets they were forever debarred from telling. In short, when Miss Harriman was present, it seemed, no less than the clothes shewore, an expression of her personality. 

After a very few minutes Miss Phyllis sauntered into the room and gaveher hand to the man who rose at her entrance. She was simply butexpensively gowned. Her smile was warm for Kirby. It told him, with atouch of shy reluctance, that he was the one man in the world she wouldrather meet just now. He did not know that it would have carried thesame 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 inthe habit of receiving young men at eleven in the morning. "Of courseI 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 eyesmet. 

"I'm sure Jack's very fond of me. He can't help showing itoccasionally. "

"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 herlong lashes. It came to him that this Paris-gowned, long-limbed youngsylph 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 goodname 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 himthat her eyes grew darker, as though some shadow of dread had fallenover 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 hadbecome tense and sharp. 

"Personal ones. About you and my uncle. You were engaged to him, wereyou not?"

"Yes. "

"There wasn't any quarrel between you recently, was there?"

A flash of apprehension filled her eyes. Then, resolutely, shebanished 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 questionmust 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 alittle catch in her throat as the voice broke. "Let's talk ofsomething more cheerful. I want to forget it all. "

"I'm sure you do. We all want to do that. The surest way to get itout 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 youcome to me?"

"When did you last see my uncle alive?"

"What a dreadful question! It was--let me think--in the afternoon--theday 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 andsteadily fastened upon her. "That's the last time you saw him--untilyou 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. Theystared at him, as though held by some dreadful fascination. From hercheeks 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 doinghere?" 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?" demandedJack hotly. 

His cousin tried a shot in the dark. "I was asking her, " he said, hisvoice low and even, "about that visit you and she paid to Uncle James'srooms the night he was killed. "

Kirby knew instantly he had scored a hit. The insolence, the jauntyconfidence, were stricken from him as by a buffet in the face. For amoment body and mind alike were lax and stunned. Then courage flowedback 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 MissHarriman? She almost fainted, and it certainly crumpled you up tillyou got second breath. "

Jack flushed angrily. "O' course it shocked her for you to make such acharge against her. It would frighten any woman. By God, it's anoutrage. You come here and try to browbeat Miss Harriman when she'salone. You ask her impudent questions, as good as tell her she--she--"

Kirby's eyes were like a glittering rapier probing for the weakness ofhis opponent's defense. "I say that she and you were in the rooms ofUncle James at 9. 50 the evening he was killed. I say that youconcealed the fact at the inquest. Why?" He shot his question at theother man with the velocity of a bullet. 

Cunningham's lip twitched, his eye wavered. How much did his cousinknow? How much was he merely guessing?

"Who told you we were there? How do you know it? I don't propose toanswer every wild accusation nor to let Miss Harriman be insulted byyou. Who are you, anyhow? A man accused of killing my uncle, the manwho found his valet dead and is suspected of that crime, too, a fellowwho would be lying behind the bars now if my brother hadn't put up themoney to save the family from disgrace. If we tell all we know, thepolice will grab you again double-quick. Yet you have the nerve tocome here and make insinuations against the lady who is mourning myuncle'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 andperhaps things will clear up a bit. "

It was a bluff pure and simple. He couldn't tell what he knew any morethan his cousin could. The part played by Rose and Esther McLean inthe story barred him from the luxury of truth-telling. Moreover, hehad no real evidence to back his suspicions. But Jack did not know howstrong 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'llgive 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'mgoing 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 hiskeeping 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 Harrimanknow somethin' an' are concealin' it. What is it? I'm not a fool. Idon't think you killed Uncle any more than I did. But you an' MissHarriman have a secret. Why don't you go to James an' make a cleanbreast of it? He'll tell you what to do. "

"The devil he will! I tell you we haven't any secret. We weren't inUncle's rooms that night. "

"Can you prove an alibi for the whole evening--both of you?" the rangerider asked curtly. 

"None of your business. We're not in the prisoner's dock. It's youthat is likely to be there, " Jack tossed out petulantly. 

Phyllis Harriman had flung herself down to sob with her head in thepillows. But Kirby noticed that one small pink ear was in the open totake in the swift sentences passing between the men. 

"I'm intendin' to make it my business, " Lane said, his voice ominouslyquiet. 

"You're laying up trouble for yourself, " Jack warned blackly. "If youwant 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'reconcealin' 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 oragainst me?" asked Kirby. 

"Against you, you meddling fool!" Cunningham burst out in a gust offury. "Don't you meddle with my affairs, unless you want trouble rightoff the bat. I'm not going to have a Paul Pry nosing around andhinting 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 agun. 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' forthe man who killed Uncle James. I'm expectin' to find him. If anybodystands in the way, I'm liable to run against him. "

The man from Twin Buttes bowed toward the black hair and pink ear ofhis 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 heshould be locked up in prison even for a few days the threads that hehad begun to untangle from the snarl known as the Cunningham mysterywould again be ensnared. He was not sure what action James would takeat his brother's demand that he withdraw from the bond. But Lane hadno desire to embarrass him by forcing the issue. He set about securinga new bond. 

He was, ten minutes later, in the law offices of Irwin, Foster &Warren, attorneys who represented the cattle interests in Wyoming withwhich Kirby was identified. Foster, a stout, middle-aged man with onlya 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, " hesaid. "If they give me instructions to stand back of you, I'll arrangea new bond as soon as possible. "

"Will it take long? I can't afford to be tied up behind the bars rightnow. "

"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 andlooked out of the window. His eyes did not focus on any detail of theoffice building opposite. They had the far-away look which denotes apreoccupied 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 peopleelope they go to Golden. When a couple gets married and doesn't wantit 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. Iwas there on business a couple of weeks ago. "

The eyes of the men fastened. Lane knew he was being given a hint thatFoster did not want to put more directly. 

"What are the interestin' points of the town?" asked the Twin Buttesman. 

"Well, sir, there are several. Of course, there's the School of Mines, and the mountains right back of the town. Gold was discovered theresomewhere about fifty-seven, I think. Used to be the capital of theterritory before Denver found her feet. "

"I'm rather busy. "

"Wouldn't take you long to run over on the interurban. " The lawyerbegan to gather toward him the papers upon which he had been workingwhen the client was shown in. He added casually: "I found it quiteamusing to look over the marriage licenses of the last month or two. Found the names there of some of our prominent citizens. Well, I'llcall you up as soon as I know about the bond. "

Lane was not entirely satisfied with what he had been told, but he knewthat Foster had said all he meant to say. One thing stuck in his mindas the gist of the hint. The attorney was advising him to go to thecourt-house and check up the marriage licenses. 

He walked across to the Equitable Building and dropped in on his cousinJames. Cunningham rose to meet him a bit stiffly. The cattleman knewthat 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 franklywhy he had come. 

"I've had a sort of row with Jack. Under the circumstances I don'tfeel that I ought to let you stay on my bond. It might createill-feelin' between you an' him. So I'm arrangin' to have some Wyomingfriends put up whatever's required. You'll understand I haven't anybad feeling against you, or against him for that matter. You've beenbully 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 roomsthe night he was killed. I want them to come through an' tell whatthey know. "

"How did you find that out?"

The eyes of the oil broker were hard as jade. They looked straightinto 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. Hewanted to remain on good terms with James if he could. "I don't knowit 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 withsuch 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 offact the idea is ridiculous. You surely don't think for a moment thatshe had anything to do with Uncle James's death. "

"No; not in the sense that she helped bring it about. But she knowssomethin' 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 thatnight. Your friend Miss Rose McLean was there, too--by her ownconfession. When she came to Jack and me with her story, we respectedit. We did not insist on knowing why she was there, and it was of herown free will she told us. Yet you go to our friend and distress herby implications that must shock and wound her. Was that generous? Wasit even fair?"

The cattleman stood convicted at the bar of his own judgment. Hiscousins had been magnanimous to Esther and Rose, more so than he hadbeen to Miss Harriman. Yet, even while he confessed fault, he feltuneasily that there was a justification he could not quite lay hold ofand put into words. 

"I'm sorry you feel that way, James. Perhaps I was wrong. But youwant to remember that I wasn't askin' about what she knew with any ideaof makin' it public or tellin' the police. I meant to keep it under myown 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' Iinclude Jack and Miss Harriman as well as myself, " the older mananswered gravely. "But I'm sure you're entirely wrong. Miss Harrimanknows 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, toput it mildly? Analyze it and you'll find you haven't a singlesubstantial fact to base it on. "

This was true. Yet Kirby's opinion was not changed. He still believedthat Jack and Miss Harriman had been in his uncle's rooms just beforeWild Rose had been there. 

He returned to the subject of the bond. It seemed to him best, hesaid, in view of Jack's feeling, to get other bondsmen. He hoped Jameswould not interpret this to mean that he felt less friendly toward him. 

His cousin bowed, rather formally. "Just as you please. Would youlike 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 toGolden?"

"Yes. Some one gave me a tip. I don't know what there's in it, but Ithought I'd have a look at the marriage-license registry. "

Cunningham flashed a startled glance at him that asked a peremptoryquestion. "Probably waste of time. I've been in the oil business toolong 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 muchimagination for sleuthing. You let your wild fancies gallop away withyou. If I were you I'd go back to bronco busting. "

Kirby laughed. "Dare say you're right. I'll take your advice after weget the man we're after. "

CHAPTER XXIV

REVEREND NICODEMUS RANKIN FORGETS AND REMEMBERS

By appointment Kirby met Rose at Graham & Osborne's for luncheon. Shewas 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, " heanswered 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 friendnoticed, as he had often done before, that she had the grace ofmovement which is a corollary to muscles under perfect response. Seated across the table from her, he marveled once more at the miracleof her soft skin and the peach bloom of her complexion. Many times shehad known the sting of sleet and the splash of sun on her face. Yetincredibly 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 likesher and she likes him. Why couldn't she have met him first? She's solovable. " Tears brimmed to her eyes. "That's been her ruin. She wasready to believe any man who said he cared for her. Even when she wasa little bit of a trick when people liked her, she was grateful to themfor 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, hisvoice low and gentle. 

"No. It's queer how stubborn she can be for all her softness. But shealmost told me last night. I'll find out in a day or two now. Ofcourse it was your uncle. The note I found was really an admission ofguilt. Your cousins feel that some settlement ought to be made onEsther out of the estate. I've been trying to decide what would befair. 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, " Kirbysaid. "A man gave me a hint. He didn't want to tell me theinformation out an' out, whatever it is. I don't know why. What hesaid was for me to go to Golden an' look over the list of marriagelicenses for the past month or two. "

Her eyes flashed an eager question at him. "You don't suppose--itcouldn't be that Esther was married to your uncle secretly and that shepromised not to tell. "

"I hadn't thought of that. It might be. " His eyes narrowed inconcentration. "And if Jack an' Miss Harriman had just found it out, that would explain why they called on Uncle James the night he waskilled. Do you want to go to Golden with me?"

She nodded, eagerly. "Oh, I do, Kirby! I believe we'll find outsomething 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 Goldencar. It carried them by the viaduct over the Platte River and throughthe North Side into the country. They rushed past truck farms andapple orchards into the rolling fields beyond, where the crops had beenharvested and the land lay in the mellow bath of a summer sun. Theyswung round Table Mountain into the little town huddled at the foot ofLookout. 

From the terminus of the line they walked up the steep hill to thecourt-house. An automobile, new and of an expensive make, was standingby the curb. Just as Kirby and Rose reached the machine a young manran down the steps of the court-house and stepped into the car. Theman was Jack Cunningham. He took the driver's seat. Beside him was aveiled young woman in a leather motoring-coat. In spite of the veilLane 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, andgave the engine gas. 

The rough rider watched the car move down the hill. "I've made amistake, " he told his companion. "I told James I was comin' hereto-day. He let Jack know, an' he's beat us to it. "

"What harm will that do?" asked Rose. "The information will be therefor 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 toyour uncle? Do you think they can be trying to keep it quiet so shecan't claim the estate?"

He stopped in his stride. James had deprecated the idea of his comingto Golden and had ridiculed the possibility of his unearthing anyinformation of value. Yet he must have called up Jack as soon as hehad 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 felton the part of both cousins to his activities. There was somethingthey did not want brought to the light of day. What more potent reasoncould there be for concealment than their desire to keep the fortune ofthe millionaire in their own hands?

"I shouldn't wonder if you haven't rung the bull's-eye, pardner, " hetold her. "We ought to know right soon now. "

The clerk in the recorder's office smiled when Kirby said he wanted tolook through the license register. He swung the book round toward them. 

"Help yourself. What's the big idea? Another young fellow was inlookin' at the licenses only a minute ago. "

The clerk moved over to another desk where he was typewriting. Hisback was turned toward them. Kirby turned the pages of the book. Heand Rose looked them over together. They covered the record for threemonths without finding anything of interest. Patiently they went overthe leaves again. 

Kirby stepped over to the clerk. "Do you happen to remember whetheryou made out any license application for a man named Cunningham anytime 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 vacationtwo 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 beencut out with a sharp penknife, so deftly that they had passed it twicewithout noticing. 

"Who did that?" demanded the clerk angrily. 

"Probably the young man who was just in here. His name is JackCunningham, " Lane answered. 

"What in time did he want to do that for? If he wanted it why didn'the take a copy? The boss'll give me Hail Columbia. That's what afellow gets for being accommodating. "

"He did it so that we wouldn't see it. Is there any other record keptof the marriages?"

"Sure there is. The preachers and the judges who perform marriageshave to turn back to us the certificate within thirty days and we makea 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 Rosetold him it was very important to her, as officials have a way of doingwhen charming young women smile at them. But he found no record of anymarriage of which they knew either of the contracting parties. 

"Once in a while some preacher forgets to turn in his certificate, " theclerk 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 forlornhope, but he and Rose walked out to a little house in the suburbs wherethe preacher lived. 

He was a friendly, white-haired old gentleman, and he made them verymuch at home under the impression they had come to get married. Aslight deafness was in part responsible for this mistake. 

"May I see the license?" he asked after Kirby had introduced himselfand Rose. 

For a moment the cattleman was puzzled. His eye went to Rose, seekinginformation. A wave of color was sweeping into her soft cheeks. ThenLane knew why, and the hot blood mounted into his own. His gazehurriedly and in embarrassment fled from Miss McLean's face. 

"You don't quite understand, " he explained to the Reverend NicodemusRankin. "We've come only to--to inquire about some one you married--orrather to find out if you did marry him. His name is Cunningham. Wehave reason to think he was married a month or two ago. But we're notsure. "

The old man stroked his silken white hair. At times his mind was alittle hazy. There were moments when a slight fog seemed to descendupon it. His memory in recent years had been quite treacherous. Notlong since he had forgotten to attend a funeral at which he was toconduct the services. 

"I dare say I did marry your friend. A good many young people come tome. 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, " theold 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 charmingyoung woman--very attractive, I might say. My wife and daughtermentioned it afterward. "

"May I ask if Mrs. Rankin and your daughter are at present in thehouse?" asked Lane. 

"Unfortunately, no. They have gone to spend a few days visiting inIdaho Springs. If they were here they could reënforce any gaps in mymemory, which is not all it once was. " The Reverend Nicodemus smiledapologetically. 

"Was her name Esther McLean?" asked Rose eagerly. 

The old parson brought his mind back to the subject with a visibleeffort. "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 ratherthink 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 andEllen would know. I'm sorry they're not here. They talked afterwardabout 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 anddid they bring witnesses with them?"

"Yes. I was working in the garden--weeding the strawberry-patch, Ithink. They came in an automobile alone. Wife and daughter were thewitnesses. "

"Do you know when Mrs. Rankin and your daughter will be home?"

"By next Tuesday, at the latest. Perhaps you can call again. I trustthere was nothing irregular about the marriage. "

"Not so far as we know. We were anxious about the young lady. She isa friend of ours, " Kirby said. "By the way, the certificate of themarriage is not on record at the court-house. Are you sure youreturned it to the clerk?"

"Bless my soul, did I forget that again?" exclaimed the ReverendNicodemus. "I'll have my daughter look for the paper as soon as shereturns. "

"You couldn't find it now, I suppose, " Lane suggested. 

The old gentleman searched rather helplessly among the papersoverflowing his desk. He did not succeed in finding what he looked for. 

Kirby and Rose walked back to the court-house. They had omitted toarrange with the license clerk to forward a copy of the marriagecertificate when it was filed. 

The rough rider left the required fee with the clerk and a bank note tokeep his memory jogged up. 

"Soon as Mrs. Rankin comes home, will you call her up and remind herabout 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 pagefrom the register? I'm going after him right, believe you me. "

Kirby gave his cousin's name and address. He had no animosity whatevertoward him, but he thought it just as well to keep Jack's mind occupiedwith troubles of his own during the next few days. Very likely then hewould not get in his way so much. 

They were no sooner clear of the court-house than Rose burst out withwhat was in her mind. 

"It's just as I thought. Your uncle married Esther and got her to keepquiet about the marriage for some reason. Your cousins are trying todestroy the evidence so that the estate won't all go to her. I'll betwe get an offer of a compromise right away. "

"Mebbe. " Kirby's mind was not quite satisfied. Somehow, this affairdid not seem to fit in with what he knew of his uncle. Cunningham hadbeen always bold and audacious in his actions, a law to himself. Yetif he were going to marry the stenographer he had wronged, he might doit secretly to conceal the date on account of the unborn child. 

The eyes of Rose gleamed with determination. Her jaw set. "I'm gonnaget the whole story out of Esther soon as I get back to town, " she saiddoggedly. 

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 andtremulous. It was less than ten minutes since he had left her at thedoor of her boarding-house. 

"Something's happened, Kirby. Can you come here--right away?" shebegged. Then, unable to keep back any longer the cry of her heart, shebroke 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 thehouse--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 nearestcorner, he dropped from it as it crossed Broadway and walked toCherokee. 

Rose opened the house door when he rang the bell and drew him into theparlor. 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 soughthis for comfort. He read what Esther had written. 

I can't stand it any longer, dearest. I'm going away where I won'tdisgrace you. Don't look for me. I'll be taken care oftill--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. Shehasn't seen Esther this afternoon, she said. I didn't let on I wasworried. "

"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 isany friend who might have offered her a temporary home?"

"No. " Rose considered. "She wouldn't go to any old friend. You seeshe's--awf'ly sensitive. And she'd have to explain. Besides, I'd findout she was there. "

"That's true. "

"I ought never to have left her last spring. I should have found workhere 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 ownlife. How could you tell what was comin'? Betcha we find her rightaway. Mebbe she let out somethin' to Cole. She doesn't look to melike a girl who could play out a stiff hand alone. "

"She isn't. She's dependent--always has leaned on some one. " Rose hadregained control of herself quickly. She stood straight and lissom, mistress of her emotions, but her clear cheeks were colorless. "I'mworried, Kirby, dreadfully. Esther hasn't the pluck to go throughalone. 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 somewhereinto 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 wecan't find one li'l' girl _muy pronto_. " His voice was steady andcheerful, almost light. "First off, we'll check up an' see if any onesaw 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 roundthe house here, kinda easy-like. Meet you here at six o'clock. Ormebbe 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 whilewe're waitin'. That way we'll not lose any time. "

They found a booth and Kirby ordered the dinner. As soon as the waiterhad gone he talked business. 

"Find out anything, Rose?"

"Yes. A girl at the house who works for the telephone company sawEsther get into an automobile a block and a half from the house. A manhelped her in. I pretended to laugh and asked her what sort of alookin' man he was. She said he was a live one, well-dressed andhandsome. The car was a limousine. "

"Good. Fits in with what I found out, " Kirby said. "The bank wasclosed, but I got in the back door by pounding at it. The teller atthe K-R window was still there, working at his accounts. Esther didnot 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 wewas 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 thewaiter served them. Not till the man's back was turned did Rose flingout her hot challenge to Kirby. 

"Why would she go with a man she didn't know very well? Where wouldshe 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 toface all slights with high spirit. 

His smile reassured. "Mebbe she didn't know where she was goin'. Thatwas his business. Let's work this out from the beginnin'. "

Kirby passed Rose the crackers. She rejected them with a littlegesture 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 ofno 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 runaway alone, Rose. Didn't you?"

"Yes. "

"She hadn't drawn any money from her account, So she wasn't makin' anyplans to go. The man worked it out an' then persuaded Esther. It's nosurprise to me to find a Mr. Man in this thing. I'd begun to guess itbefore you told me. The question is, what man. "

The girl's eyes jumped to his. She began to see what he was workingtoward. Cole, entirely in the dark, stirred uneasily. His mind wasstill 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 fromus, they would be in a position to drive a better bargain. They knowthat we're hot on the trail of the marriage. If they're kind toher--and no doubt they will be--they can get anything they want fromher in the way of an agreement as to the property. Looks to me likethe 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--thoughtmaybe she would do something desperate. But if she's being lookedafter it's a lot better. We'll soon have her back. Until then they'llbe 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. Hebegan to fancy himself tremendously as a detective. 

CHAPTER XXVI

CUTTING TRAIL

Kirby's efforts to find James Cunningham after dinner were notsuccessful. He was not at his rooms, at the Country Club, or at hisoffice. Nor was he at a dinner dance where he was among the invitedguests, a bit of information Rose had gathered from the society columnsof the previous Sunday's "News. " His cousin reached him at last nextmorning by means of his business telephone. An appointment wasarranged in five sentences. 

If James felt any surprise at the delegation of three which filed in tosee him he gave no sign of it. He bowed, sent for more chairs from theouter office, and seated his visitors, all with a dry, close smilehovering on the edge of irony. 

Kirby cut short preliminaries. "You know why we're here and what wewant, " he said abruptly. 

"I confess I don't, unless to report on your trip to Golden, " Jamescountered 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 orgave 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-licenseregistry. "

James lifted a hand of protest. "Ah! There we come to the parting ofthe 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 fromgetting the information we wanted. "

"No?" James murmured the monosyllable with polite indifference. Buthe watched, lynx-eyed, the strong, brown face of his cousin. 

"We know now the secret you wanted to keep hidden in the court-house atGolden. "

"I grant you energy in ferreting out other people's business, dearcousin. If you 're always so--so altruistic, let us say--I wonder howyou have time to devote to your own affairs. "

"We intend to see justice done Miss Esther McLean--Mrs. JamesCunningham, I should say. You can't move us from that intention or--"

The expression on the oil broker's face was either astonishment or thebest 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 toUncle James at Golden on the twenty-first of last month. "

"Miss McLean and Uncle James married--at Golden--on the twenty-first oflast 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 almostanything. It's really a pity with your imagination that you don't gointo fiction. "

"Or oil promotin', " suggested Cole with a grin. "Or is that the samething?"

"Let's table our cards, James, " his cousin said. "You know now whywe'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. Hehad the gift of repose, of wonderful poise. Now not even his eyelashesflickered. 

"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 gosomewhere and hide herself. You want her in your power, to force orcajole her into a compromise of her right to Uncle James's estate. Wewon'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 withyou. "

"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 ofcomplaint 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 drillinginto those of the broker. 

"We sure will, an' if you've hurt our li'l' friend--if she's got anygrievance against you an' the way you treat her--I'll certainly wreckyou proper, Mr. Cunningham. "

James flushed angrily. "Get out of here--all of you! Or I'll send forthe 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 hersister 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 maketrouble for me and Jack even though we try to stand your friend. I'vehad about enough of you. "

"Sorry you look at it that way. " Kirby's smile was friendly. It waseven wistful. "I appreciate what you did for me, but I've got to gothrough with what I've started. I can't quit on the job because I'munder an obligation to you. By the way, I've arranged the matter ofthe bond. We're to take it up at the district attorney's office ateleven 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 twoto dig up some facts. I'm gonna be busy all mornin' with this bondbusiness so's I can keep outa jail. Rose, you go up to the Secretaryof State's office and find the number of the license of my cousin's carand the kind of machine it is. Then you'd better come back an' take alook at all the cars parked within three or four blocks of here. Hemay have driven it down when he came to work this mornin'. Look at thespeedometer 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 outat what garage he keeps his car. If they don't know, go to all thegarages 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 attwelve o'clock, say. Both of you. "

"Suits me, " said Cole. "But wise me up. What's the idea in themileage?"

"Just this. James was outa town last night probably. We couldn't findhim anywhere. My notion is that he's taken Esther somewhere into themountains. If we can get the mileage of the last trip, all we have todo is to divide it by two to know how far away Esther is. Then we'lldraw a circle round Denver at that distance an'--"

Cole slapped his thigh with his hat. "Bully! You're sure thewhite-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 themountains. Perhaps he's got a cottage of his own or some favoritespot. "

"I'm on my way, old-timer!" Cole announced with enthusiasm. 

At luncheon the committee reported progress. Cole had seen JamesCunningham's car. It was a sedan. He had had it out of the garage allafternoon 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 notchedon the pencil a mark to represent forty-six miles from the point, basedon the scale of miles shown at the foot of the map. With the pencil asa radius he drew a semicircle from Denver as the center. The curvedline passed through Loveland, Long's Peak, and across the Snow Range toTabernash. It included Georgetown, Gray's Peak, Mount Evans, andCassell'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, didyou find anything about where James goes into the hills?"

"No. "

"Well, we'll make some more inquiries. Perhaps the best thing for youto do would be to go out to the small towns around Denver an' find outif 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 hewent up Bear Cañon, Platte Cañon, into Northern Colorado, or southtoward the Palmer Lake country. "

"You've allowed forty-six miles by an air line, " Rose pointed out. "Hecouldn't have gone as far as Long's Peak or Evans--nowhere nearly asfar, because the roads are so winding when you get in the hills. Hecould 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 adetective agency on James. He might take a notion to run out to thecache any fine evenin'. He likely will, to make sure Esther iscontented. "

"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 themurder mystery. "

"If we work both of them out---finding Esther and proving who killedyour 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 scarcelybelieve the evidence flashed by his eyes to his brain. It was thedocument he had asked the county recorder at Golden to send him--and itcertified that, on July 21, _James Cunningham and Phyllis Harriman hadbeen united in marriage_ at Golden by the Reverend Nicodemus Rankin. 

This knocked the props from under the whole theory he had built up toaccount for the disappearance of Esther McLean. If Esther were not thewidow of his uncle, then the motive of James in helping her to vanishwas not apparent. Perhaps he told the truth and knew nothing about theaffair whatever. 

But Kirby was puzzled. Why had his uncle, who was openly engaged toPhyllis Harriman, married her surreptitiously and kept that marriage asecret? 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 someclue in the license register to the mystery of James Cunningham'sdeath. What bearing had this marriage on it, if any?

It explained, of course, the visit of Miss Harriman to his uncle'sapartments on the night he was murdered. She had an entire right to gothere at any time, and if they were keeping their relation a secretwould naturally go at night when she could slip in unobserved. 

But Kirby's mind wandered up and down blind alleys. The discovery ofthis 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 receiptof the certificate. 

The clerk in the recorder's office could tell him nothing new exceptthat he had called up Mrs. Rankin by telephone and she had brought upthe delayed certificate at once. Kirby lost no time among the records. He walked to the Rankin house and introduced himself to an old ladysunning herself on the porch. She was a plump, brisk little personwith snapping eyes younger than her years. 

"I'm sorry I wasn't at home when you called. Can I help you now?" sheasked. 

"I don't know. James Cunningham was my uncle. We thought he hadmarried 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 youngwoman to whom he was engaged. "

Mrs. Rankin smiled, the placid, motherly smile of experience. "I'venoticed that men sometimes do marry the girls to whom they are engaged. "

"Yes, but--" Kirby broke off and tried another tack. "How old was thelady? 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 ofyoung 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 hearton her sleeve, I judge. I can't answer that question. My opinion isthat 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?" sheasked. "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 wasstrong and rugged. He did not look his age. "

The old lady got up swiftly. "Please excuse me a minute. " She movedwith extraordinary agility into the house. It was scarcely a minutebefore she was with him again, a newspaper in her hand. In connectionwith the Cunningham murder mystery several pictures were shown. Amongthem 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 sunnyheaven. Kirby could not accept them without reiteration. Never in thewildest dreams of the too vivid imagination of which his cousin hadaccused him had this possibility occurred to him. 

"Do you mean that this man--the younger one--is the husband of PhyllisHarriman?" His finger touched the reproduction of his cousin'sphotograph. 

"Yes. He's the man my husband married her to on the twenty-first ofJuly. "

"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 andmore modern replica of Mrs. Rankin. The older lady introduced her. 

"Daughter, this is Mr. Lane, the gentleman who called on Father theother day while we were away. Mr. Lane, my daughter Ellen. " Brisklyshe 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 otherday. "

"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 nowthat 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. Hethought it was his uncle who had married Miss Harriman, " the motherexplained 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. Cunninghamthat 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 Ithought it must have been a mistake, since it was the younger Mr. Cunningham she did marry. Maybe the reporters got the two mixed. Theydo sometimes get things wrong in the papers, you know. "

This explanation was plausible, but Kirby happened to have insideinformation. He remembered the lovely photograph of the young woman inhis uncle's rooms and the "Always, Phyllis" written across the lowerpart of it. He recalled the evasive comments of both James and hisbrother whenever any reference had been made to the relation betweenMiss Harriman and their uncle. No, Phyllis Harriman had been engagedto marry James Cunningham, Senior. He was sure enough of that. Inpoint of fact he had seen at the district attorney's office a letterwritten by her to the older man, a letter which acknowledged that theywere to be married in October. It had been one of a dozen papersturned over to the prosecutor's office for examination. Then she hadjilted the land promoter for his nephew. 

Did his uncle know of the marriage of his nephew? That was somethingKirby meant to find out if he could. The news he had just heard lit upavenues 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 thatguided him, the savage and relentless passions that swayed him. If theold man knew his favorite nephew and his fiancée had made a mock ofhim, he would move swiftly to a revenge that would hurt. The firstimpulse of his mind would be to strike James from his will. 

And even if his uncle had not yet discovered the secret marriage, hewould 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: _ifCunningham had lived, his nephew James would never have inherited acent of his millions. The older man had died in the nick of time forJames_. 

Already Kirby had heard a hint to this effect. It had been at arestaurant much affected by the business men of the city during thelunch hour. Two men had been passing his table on their way out. One, lowering his voice, had said to the other: "James Cunningham ought togive a medal to the fellow that shot his uncle. Didn't come a day toosoon for him. Between you and me, J. C. Has been speculating heavy andhas been hit hard. He was about due to throw up the sponge. Luck forhim, I'll say. "

It was on the way back from Golden, while he was being rushed throughthe golden fields of summer, that suspicion of his cousin hit Kirbylike a blow in the face. Facts began to marshal themselves in hismind, an irresistible phalanx of them. James was the only man, excepthis brother, who benefited greatly by the death of his uncle. Not onlywas this true; the land promoter had to die _soon_ to help James, justhow soon Kirby meant to find out. Phyllis and a companion had been inthe victim's apartment either at the time of his death or immediatelyafterward. That companion _might have been James and not Jack_. Jameshad lost the sheets with the writing left by the Japanese valetHorikawa. The rage he had vented on his clerk might easily have been ablind. When James knew he was going to Golden to look up the marriageregister, he had at once tried to forestall him by destroying theinformation. 

Kirby tried to fight off his suspicions. He wanted to believe in hiscousin. In his own way he had been kind to him. He had gone on hisbond to keep him out of prison after he had tried to conceal the factof his existence at the coroner's inquest. But doubts began to gnaw atthe Wyoming man's confidence in him. Had James befriended him merelyto be in a position to keep closer tab on anything he discovered? Hadhe wanted to be close enough to throw him off the track with the wrongsuggestions?

The young cattleman was ashamed of himself for his doubts. But hecould not down them. His discovery of the marriage changed thesituation. It put his cousin James definitely into the list of thesuspects. 

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 thatgentleman. "Now I want to ask you a question. "

The lawyer looked at him, smiling warily. Both of the JamesCunninghams 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 askyou if you know whether my uncle knew that James and Miss Harriman weremarried. "

Foster looked out of the window and drummed with his finger-tips on thedesk. "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 thetwenty-first--two days before his death. I told him--after dinner atthe City Club. "

"You had just found it out yourself?"

"That afternoon. "

"How did you decide that the James Cunningham mentioned in the licenseyou 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, butlooked 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. "Idon't suppose you know that your uncle sent for me next day and told meto 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. Itwas found unsigned among his papers after his death. The old willstill 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 citypark, the whole fortune was to go to Jack. "

"So that if he had lived twenty-four hours longer James would have beendisinherited. "

Foster looked at him out of eyes that told nothing of what he wasthinking. "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 messengerboy, refreshed his memory with a tip, and learned that the messageCunningham had sent from the City Club had been addressed to his nephewJack. 

CHAPTER XXIX

"COME CLEAN, JACK"

Jack Cunningham, co-heir with James of his uncle's estate, was busy inthe office he had inherited settling up one of the hundred details thathad been left at loose ends by the promoter's sudden death. He lookedup 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 losthis indolent insolence of manner. "You can walk out again, then. I'llnot talk, " he snapped. 

Kirby drew up a chair and seated himself. "When Uncle James sent amessenger for you to come to his rooms at once on the evening of thetwenty-first, what did he want to tell you?" The steady eyes of thecattleman 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 hewant?"

"That's my business. "

"So you say. I'm beginnin' to wonder if it isn't the business of theState of Colorado, too. "

"What do you mean?"

"I mean that Uncle sent for you because he had just found out yourbrother and Miss Harriman were married. "

Jack flashed a startled look at him. It seemed to him his cousinshowed an uncanny knowledge at times. "You think so. "

"He wanted to tell you that he was goin' to cut your brother out of hiswill an' leave you sole heir. An' he wanted you to let James know itright away. "

Kirby was guessing, but he judged he had scored. Jack got up and beganto pace the room. He was plainly agitated. 

"Look here. Why don't you go back to Wyoming and mind your ownbusiness? You're not in this. It's none of your affair. What are youstaying here for hounding the life out of James and me?"

"None of my business! That's good, Jack. An' me out on bond chargedwith the murder of Uncle James. I'd say it was quite some of mybusiness. I'm gonna stick to the job. Make up your mind to that. "

"Then leave us alone, " retorted Jack irritably. "You act as though youthought we were a pair of murderers. "

"If you have nothin' to conceal, why do you block anyway? Why aren'tyou frank an' open? Why did you steal that record at Golden? Why didJames lose the Jap's confession--if it was a confession? Why did heget Miss McLean to disappear? Answer those questions to mysatisfaction before you talk about me buttin' in with suspicionsagainst you. "

Jack slammed a fist down on the corner of the desk. "I'm not going toanswer any questions! I'll say you've got a nerve! You're the mancharged 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 aroundhigh and mighty trying to throw suspicion on men that there's noevidence against. "

"You said you had a quarrel with your uncle that night--no, I believeyou called it a difference of opinion, at the inquest. What was thatdisagreement about?"

"Find out! I'll never tell you. "

"Was it because you tried to defend James to him--tried to get him toforgive the treachery of his fiancée and his nephew?"

Again Jack shot at him a look of perplexed and baffled wonder. Thatbrown, indomitable face, back of which was so much strength of purposeand so much keenness of apprehension, began to fill him with alarm. This man let no obstacles stop him. He would go on till he haduncovered 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? 'Hedid 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 myinvestigations?"

"No, of course we're not! But--damn it, do you think we want the nameof 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 someevidence against her and against James--no matter how little--twentyyears from now people would still whisper that they had killed hisuncle 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 clearthings up. No, Jack. You've got the wrong idea. What we want to dois for us all to jump in an' find the man who did it. Then all gossipagainst us stops. "

"That's easy to say. How're you going to find the guilty man?" askedJack sulkily. 

"If you'd tell what you know we'd find him fast enough. How can I getto 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 forwardever so slightly. "Don't you think it! Don't you think it for aminute! You'll come clean whether you want to or not--or I'll put thatrope 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 forceback of it? Had Kirby got anything of importance on James? Or was hebluffing?

"Talk 's cheap, " he sneered uneasily. 

"You'll find how cheap it is. James had been speculatin'. He was downan' out. Another week, an' he'd have been a bankrupt. Uncle discovershow he's been tricked by him an' Miss Harriman. He serves notice thathe's cuttin' James out of his will an' he sends for a lawyer to draw upa 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 sorethumb: if uncle hadn't died that night your brother would 'a' been abeggar. Now he's a millionaire. And James was in his room the veryhour in which he was killed. "

"You can't prove that!" Jack cried, his voice low and hoarse. "How doyou know he was there? What evidence have you?"

Kirby smiled, easily and confidently. "The evidence will be producedat the right time. " He rose and turned to go. 

Jack also got up, white to the lips. "Hold on! Don't--don't doanything in a hurry! I'll--talk with you to-morrow--here--in theforenoon. 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 tothrow a scare into him to make him come through, " he murmured inapology to himself. 

CHAPTER XXX

KIRBY MAKES A CALL

Kirby had been bluffing when he said he had evidence to prove thatJames was in his uncle's rooms the very hour of the murder. But he wasnow convinced that he had told the truth. James had been there, andhis brother Jack knew it. The confession had been written in hisshocked face when Kirby flung out the charge. 

But James might have been there and still be innocent, just as was thecase with him and Rose. The cattleman wanted to find the murderer, buthe wanted almost as much to find that James had nothing to do with thecrime. He eliminated Jack, except perhaps as an accessory after thefact. Jack had a telltale face, but he might be cognizant of guiltwithout being deeply a party to it. He could be insolent, but faultsof manner are not a crime. Besides, all Jack's interests lay in theother direction. If his uncle had lived a day longer, he would havebeen sole heir to the estate. 

As he wandered through the streets Kirby's mind was busy with theproblem. Automatically his legs carried him to the Paradox Apartments. He found himself there before he even knew he had been heading in thatdirection. 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 reckonI'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 alonehe might gather something of importance. 

Hull opened the door of the apartment to his knock. He stood glaringat the young man, his prominent eyes projecting, the red capillaries inhis 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 fatman. "You've just naturally wore out yore welcome with me before everyou set down. I'll ask you to go right now. "

"Here's your hat. What's your hurry?" murmured Kirby, by way ofquotation. "Sure I'll go. But don't get on the prod, Hull. I came tomake 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 beliable 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 showedsigns of panic. 

"Then I'll say it. " The dancing light died out of Kirby's eyes. Theybecame hard and steady as agates. "Who killed Cunningham, Hull?"

The fishy eyes of the man dodged. A startled oath escaped him. "Howdo I know?"

"Didn't you kill him?"

"Goddlemighty, no!" Hull dragged out the red bandanna and gave hisapoplectic face first aid. He mopped perspiration from the overlappingroll of fat above his collar. "I dunno a thing about it. Honest, Idon't. You got no right to talk to me thataway. "

"You're a tub of iniquity, Hull. Also, you're a right poor liar. Youknow a lot about it. You were in my uncle's rooms just before I sawyou 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. Itwon't look good for you that you held out all you know till it was ashowdown. "

"I ain't holdin' out, I tell you. What business you got to come heredevilin' me, I'd like for to know?"

"I'm not devilin' you. I'm tellin' you to come through with what youknow, 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 saywho. Except this. Shibo is not the only one who can tell enough toput you on trial for your life. If you didn't kill my uncle you'dbetter take my tip, Hull. Tell what you know. It'll be better foryou. "

Mrs. Hull stood in the doorway, thin and sinister. The eyes in heryellow 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 wasup there--say about half-past nine, mebbe a little before or a littleafter. "

"He claims to have a witness, " Hull managed to get out from a drythroat. 

"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 herface 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 myhouse. We don't have to stand yore impudence--an' what's more, wewon't. Do you hear? Get out, or I'll send for the police. I ain'tscared any of you. "

The amateur detective got out. He had had the worst of the bout. Buthe 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 wouldnot be hard to frighten a confession from Hull of all he knew. Moreover, in his fear Hull had let slip one admission. Shibo, thelittle janitor, had some evidence against him. Hull knew it. Why wasShibo holding it back? The fat man had practically said that Shibo hadseen him come out of Cunningham's rooms, or at least that he was awitness he had been in the apartment. Yet he had withheld the factwhen he had been questioned by the police. Had Hull bribed him to keepquiet?

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

"Shibo, why did you hide from the police that Mr. Hull was in myuncle's rooms the night he was killed?"

The janitor shot one slant, startled glance at Kirby before the mask ofimpassivity 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 heas simple as he wanted to appear?

"No talk when not have anything to tell. " Shibo moved the sprinkler toanother 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 policewith 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, thepolice would soon find out the facts after he went to them. He evenwent beyond his brief and implied that shortly Shibo would be occupyinga 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 oncheap ruled paper torn from a tablet. 

If you want to know who killed Cuningham i can tell you. Meet me atthe Denmark Bilding, room 419, at eleven tonight. Come alone. 

_One who knows_. 

Kirby studied the invitation carefully. Was it genuine? Or was it aplant? He was no handwriting expert, but he had a feeling that it wasa disguised script. There is an inimitable looseness of design in thechirography of an illiterate person. He did not find here theawkwardness of the inexpert; rather the elaborate imitation of anamateur ignoramus. Yet he was not sure. He could give no definitereason for this fancy. 

And in the end he tossed it overboard. He would keep the appointmentand see what came of it. Moreover, he would keep it alone--except fora friend hanging under the left arm at his side. Kirby had brought norevolver with him to Denver. Occasionally he carried one on the rangeto frighten coyotes and to kill rattlers. But he knew where he couldborrow 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 constitutedthat they revel in the mysterious. They wrap their most common actionsin hints of reserve and weighty silence. Perhaps this man was one ofthem. There was no danger whatever. Nobody had any reason to wish himserious ill. Yet Kirby took a . 45 with him when he set out for theDenmark Building. He did it because that strange sixth sense of hishad 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. Hehad 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 Denverbusiness district. It was built far uptown at a time when real estatewas booming. Adjoining it is the Rockford Building. The two dominatea neighborhood of squat two-story stores and rooming-houses. In dullseasons the offices in the two big landmarks are not always filled withtenants. 

The elevators in the Denmark had ceased running hours since. Kirbytook the narrow stairs which wound round the elevator shaft. He trodthe iron treads very slowly, very softly. He had no wish to advertisehis presence. If there was to be any explosive surprise, he did notwant to be at the receiving end of it. 

He reached the second story, crossed the landing, and began the nextflight. The place was dark as a midnight pit. At the third floor itsblackness was relieved slightly by a ray of light from a transom fardown the corridor. 

Kirby waited to listen. He heard no faintest sound to break thestillness. Again his foot found the lowest tread and he crept upward. In the daytime he had laughed at the caution which had led him toborrow a weapon from an acquaintance at the stockyards. But now everysense shouted danger. He would not go back, but each forward step wastaken with infinite care. 

And his care availed him nothing. A lifted foot struck an empty soapbox with a clatter to wake the seven sleepers. Instantly he knew ithad been put there for him to stumble over. A strong searchlightflooded the stairs and focused on him. He caught a momentary glimpseof a featureless face standing out above the light--a face that wasnothing but a red bandanna handkerchief with slits in it for eyes--andof a pair of feet below at the top of the stairway. 

The searchlight winked out. There was a flash of lightning and a crashof thunder. A second time the pocket flash found Kirby. It found himcrouched low and reaching for the . 45 under his arm. The booming ofthe revolver above reverberated down the pit of the stairway. 

Arrow-swift, with the lithe ease of a wild thing from the forest, Kirbyducked round the corner for safety. He did not wait there, but tookthe stairs down three at a stride. Not till he had reached the groundfloor did he stop to listen for the pursuit. 

No sound of following footsteps came to him. By some miracle of goodluck he had escaped the ambush. It was characteristic of him that hedid 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 ownsafe escape before the police arrived. 

The cattleman waited, crouched behind an out-jutting pillar in the wallof the entrance. Every minute he expected to see a furtive figuresneak past him into the street. His hopes were disappointed. It wasnearly midnight when two men, talking cheerfully of the last gusher in, the Buckburnett field, emerged from the stairway and passed into thestreet. They were tenants who had stayed late to do some unfinishedbusiness. 

There was a drug-store in the building, cornering on two streets. Kirby stepped into it and asked a question of the clerk at theprescription desk. 

"Is there more than one entrance to the Denmark Building?"

"No, sir. " The clerk corrected himself. "Well, there's another wayout. The Producers & Developers Shale and Oil Company have a suite ofoffices that run into the Rockford Building. They've built an alley toconnect 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 ofthe Rockford entrance?"

"Easiest in the world. All he'd have to do would be to cross the alleybridge, go down the Rockford stairs, and walk into the street. "

Kirby wasted no more time. He knew that the man who had tried tomurder him had long since made good his getaway by means of thefifth-story bridge between the buildings. 

As he walked back to the hotel where he was stopping his eyes and earswere busy. He took no dark-alley chances, but headed for the brightlights of the main streets where he would be safe from any possibilityof a second ambush. 

His brain was as busy as his eyes. Who had planned this attempt on hislife 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 ofthe Denmark was the one who had murdered his uncle. The motive for theambuscade was fear. Kirby was too hot on the trail that might send himto the gallows. The man had decided to play safe by following the oldtheory that dead men tell no tales. 

CHAPTER XXXII

JACK TAKES OFF HIS COAT

Afterward, when Kirby Lane looked back upon the weeks spent in Denvertrying to clear up the mysteries which surrounded the whole affair ofhis uncle's death, it seemed to him that he had been at timesincredibly stupid. Nowhere did this accent itself so much as in thatpart of the tangle which related to Esther McLean. 

From time to time Kirby saw Cole. He was in and out of town. Most ofhis time was spent running down faint trails which spun themselves outand became lost in the hills. The champion rough rider was indomitablyresolute in his intention of finding her. There were times when Rosebegan to fear that her little sister was lost to her for always. ButSanborn never shared this feeling. 

"You wait. I'll find her, " he promised. "An' if I can lay my hands onthe man that's done her a meanness, I'll certainly give them hospitalsharks a job patchin' him up. " His gentle eyes had frozen, and thecold, hard light in them was almost deadly. 

Kirby could not get it out of his head that James was responsible forthe disappearance of the girl. Yet he could not find a motive thatwould justify so much trouble on his cousin's part. 

He was at a moving-picture house on Curtis Street with Rose when theexplanation popped into his mind. They were watching an old-fashionedmelodrama in which the villain's letter is laid at the door of theunfortunate hero. 

Kirby leaned toward Rose in the darkness and whispered, "Let's go. "

"Go where?" she wanted to know in surprise. They had seated themselvesnot five minutes before. 

"I've got a hunch. Come. "

She rose, and on the way to the aisle brushed past several irritatedladies. Not till they were standing on the sidewalk outside did hetell her what was on his mind. 

"I want to see that note from my uncle you found in your sister'sdesk, " he said. 

She looked at him and laughed a little. "You certainly want what youwant when you want it! Do your hunches often take you like that--rightout 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 putme 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 herboarding-place. 

Kirby looked the little note over carefully. "What a chump I was notto 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. "Youmean--?"

"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 whenEsther's name had been mentioned in connection with his uncle. Swiftlyhis brain began to piece the bits of evidence he had not understood themeaning of before. 

"Jack's the man. You may depend on it. My uncle hadn't anything to dowith 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'shavin' her looked after. Probably an attack of conscience. Even ifhe's selfish as the devil, he isn't heartless. "

"If we could be sure she's all right. But we can't. " Rose turned onhim 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 themuscles 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 reportprogress. "

He walked to the nearest drug-store and used the telephone freely. Atthe end of fifteen minutes he stepped out of the booth. His cousinJack was doing some evening work at the offices where he was now incharge of settling up his uncle's affairs. 

Kirby found him there. A man stenographer was putting on his coat toleave, 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 footnow. 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 downthe 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. "Whatdid you do that for?" he demanded. "Open that door!"

"Not just yet, Jack. I've come for a settlement. It's up to you tosay 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 hadbeen the middle-weight champion boxer of the university. If this toughbrown 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. Ireckon 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 usblame Uncle James for Esther McLean's trouble. An' you never said aword to set us right. Yet you're the man, you damned scoundrel!"

Jack went white to the lips, then flushed angrily. "You can't evermind your own business, can you?"

"I want just two things from you. The first is, to know where you'vetaken her; the second, to tell you that you're goin' to make this rightan' see that you do it. "

"When you talk to me like that I've nothing to say. No man living canbully 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 mansaid. "I'm electin' myself to that job for a while. If I can I'mgoin' to whale the life outa you. "

Jack slipped out of his coat and tossed it on the desk. Even in thatmoment, while Kirby was concentrating for the attack, the rough riderfound time to regret that so good-looking a youth, one so gallantlypoised and so gracefully graceless, should be a black-hearted scamp. 

"Hop to it!" invited the college man. Under thick dark lashes hisblack eyes danced with excitement. 

Kirby lashed out with his right, hard and straight. His cousin duckedwith the easy grace of a man who has spent many hours on a ballroomfloor. The cattleman struck again. Jack caught the blow and deflectedit, at the same time uppercutting swiftly for the chin. The counterlanded flush on Kirby's cheek and flung him back to the wall. 

He grinned, and plunged again. A driving left caught him off balanceand flung him from his feet. He was up again instantly, shaking hishead to clear it of the dizziness that sang there. 

It came to him that he must use his brains against this expert boxer orsuffer a knockout. He must wear Jack out, let him spend his strengthin attack, watch for the chance that was bound to come if he couldweather the storm long enough. 

Not at all loath, Jack took the offensive. He went to work coolly toput out his foe. He landed three for one, timing and placing his blowscarefully to get the maximum effect. A second time Kirby hit the floor. 

Jack hoped he would stay down. The clubman was a little out ofcondition. He was beginning to breathe fast. His cousin had landedhard two or three times on the body. Back of each of these blows therehad been a punishing force. Cunningham knew he had to win soon if atall. 

But Kirby had not the least intention of quitting. He was the toughproduct 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 strongerman, in far better condition. He could afford to wait--and Jack couldnot. He killed the boxer's attacks with deadly counter-blows, movingin and out lithely as a cat. 

The rough rider landed close to the solar plexus. Jack winced and gaveground. Kirby's fist got home again. He crowded Jack, feeling thathis man was weakening. 

Jack rallied for one last desperate set-to, hoping for a chance blow toknock 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 wentdown, rolled over, and lay still. 

Kirby found water and brought it back. Jack was sitting up, his backpropped against the wall. He swallowed a gulp or two and splashed therest on his face. 

"I'll say you can hit like the kick of a mule, " he said. "If you'dbeen a reasonable human, I ought to have got you, at that. Don't youever stay down?"

Kirby could not repress a little smile. In spite of himself he felt asneaking admiration for this insouciant youth who could take a beatinglike 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 abit groggy yet. "

Kirby helped him to his feet. The immaculate shirt and trousers werespattered with blood, mostly Kirby's. The young dandy looked athimself, and a humorous quirk twitched at the corner of his mouth. 

"Some scrap. Let's go into the lavatory and do some reconstructionwork, " he said. 

Side by side at adjoining washbowls, perfectly amicably, they repairedas far as possible the damages of war. Not till they had put on againtheir 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 partof it. I'm not going to, either. "

He had said the last word. Kirby could not begin all over again tothrash him. It was not reasonable. And if he did, he knew quite wellhe would get nothing out of the man. If he would not talk, he wouldnot. 

The bronco buster walked back to his hotel. A special-delivery letterwas in his box. It was postmarked Golden. As he handed it to him theclerk looked him over curiously. It had been some time since he hadseen a face so badly cut up and swollen. 

"You ought to see the other fellow, " Kirby told him with a lopsidedgrin as he ripped open the envelope. 

Before his eyes had traveled halfway down the sheet the cowman gave amodulated whoop of joy. 

"Good news?" asked the clerk. 

Kirby did not answer. His eyes were staring in blank astonishment atone sentence in the letter. The note was from Cole Sanborn. This iswhat Kirby read in it:

Well, old-timer, there aint no trail so blamed long but what its got aturn in it somewheres. I done found Esther up Platte Cañon andeverythings OK as you might say. I reckon you are wondering howcomethis to be postmarked Golden. Well, old pardner, Im sure enoughmarried at last but I had a great time getting Esther to see this myway. 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 touchthe yellow wolf who got her into trouble. But she didnt say nothingabout you so I will just slip you his name. It wasnt your uncle at allbut that crooked oil broker nephew of his James Cunningham. If you canmuss 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 itall the time and been embarrassed by it. He had stuck loyally to hisbrother 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 telephonebooth. He had promised to report progress. For once he hadconsiderable to report. 

CHAPTER XXXIII

OLSON TELLS A STORY

When Rose heard from Esther next day she and Kirby took the Interurbanfor Golden. Esther had written that she wanted to see her sisterbecause Cole was going to take her back to Wyoming at once. 

The sisters wept in each other's arms and then passed together intoEsther's bedroom for an intimate talk. The younger sister was stillhappy only in moments of forgetfulness, though she had been rescuedfrom death in life. Cole had found her comfortably situated at afarmhouse a mile or two back from the cañon. She had gone there underthe urge of her need, at the instigation of James Cunningham, who couldnot afford to have the scandal of his relations with her become publicat the same time as the announcement of his marriage to PhyllisHarriman. The girl loved Cole and trusted him. Her heart went out tohim in a warm glow of gratitude. But the shadow of her fault was abarrier in her mind between them, and would be long after his kindnesshad melted the ice in her bosom. 

"We've got it all fixed up to tell how we was married when I come downto Denver last April only we kep' it quiet because she wanted to holdher job awhile, " Cole explained to his friend. "Onct I get her backthere 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 amis-step in the dark an' falls an' hurts itself. You know how awounded deer can look at a fellow so sorrowful an' hurt. Well, that'show her brown eyes looked at me when I come round the corner o' thehouse up Platte Cañon an' seen her sittin' there starin' at hell. "

Kirby shook hands with him in a sudden stress of emotion. "You'll doto take along, old alkali, you sure enough will. "

"Oh, shucks!" retorted Cole, between disgust and embarrassment. "Ialways claimed to be a white man, didn't I? You can't give a fellowcredit for doin' the thing he'd rather do than anything else. But proda peg in this. I'm gonna make that li'l' girl plumb happy. She thinksshe won't be, that she's lost the right to be. She's 'way off, I cansee her perkin' up already. I got a real honest-to-God laugh outa herthis mo'nin'. "

Kirby knew the patience, the steadiness, and the kindliness of hisfriend. Esther had fallen into the best of hands. She would findagain the joy of life. He had no doubt of that. Gayety and laughterwere of her heritage. 

He said as much to Rose on the way home. She agreed. For the firsttime since she left Cheyenne the girl was her old self. Esther'sproblem 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, hiseyes dancing. "It's not so blamed funny at that, but I can't helplaughin' every time I think of how he must 'a' been grinnin' up hissleeve 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'tget his embarrassment right. James is a pretty cool customer. Fromfirst 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 thehospital. I'm a peaceable citizen, a poor, lone cowboy far away fromhome. Where I come from it's as quiet as a peace conference. Thiswildest-Denver stuff gets my nerve. "

She smiled into his battered face. A dimple nestled in her soft, warmcheek. "I see it does. It's a pity about you. I didn't suppose yourcousin Jack had it in him to spoil your beauty like that. "

"Neither did I, " he said, answering her smile. "I sure picked on thewrong man. He's one handy lad with his dibs--put me down twice beforewe 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'llride close herd on him for a while, but we'll ride wide. Looks to melike 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 myfather'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 knowingit. "

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 theremore freely. "

The Scandinavian rancher followed him to the elevator and from there tohis room. 

"Why don't they arrest Hull?" he demanded as soon as the door wasclosed. 

"Not evidence enough. "

"Suppose I can give evidence. Say I practically saw Hull do it. Wouldthey arrest him--or me?"

"They'd arrest him, " Kirby answered. "They don't know you're the manwho wrote the threatening letter. "

"Hmp!" grunted the rancher suspiciously. "That's what _you_ say, butyou'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 engagingsmile his doubts lost force. "I got to take a chance. Might as wellbe with you as any one. "

The Wyoming man struck a match, held it for the use of his guest, thenlit his own cigar. For a few moments they smoked in silence. Kirbyleaned back easily against the head of the bed. He did not intend tofrighten the rancher by hurrying him. 

"When Cunningham worked that crooked irrigation scheme of his on DryValley, I reckon I was one of them that hollered the loudest. Prob'lyI talked foolish about what all I was gonna do about it. I wasn'tblowin' off hot air either. If I'd got a good chance at him, or atHull either, I would surely have called for a showdown an' gunned himif I could. But that wasn't what I came to Denver for. I had toarrange about gettin' my mortgage renewed. "

He stopped and took a nervous puff or two at the cigar. Kirby noddedin a friendly fashion without speaking. He did not want by anything hemight 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 tome by a neighbor of mine who knew the landlady. When I went there Ididn't know that either Cunningham or Hull lived next door. That's aGod's truth. I didn't. Well, I saw Hull go in there the very day Igot to town, but the first I knew yore uncle lived there was ten ormaybe fifteen minutes before he was killed. I wouldn't say but what itwas twenty minutes, come to that. I wasn't payin' no attention totime. "

Olson's eyes challenged those of his host. His suspicion was stillsmoldering. An unhappy remark, a look of distrust, might still havedried up the stream of his story. But he found in that steady regardnothing 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 thelid on. When I couldn't stand it any longer, I went out into thecorridor an' down it to the fire escape outside the window. It was alot cooler there. I lit a stogie an' sat on the railin' smokin', maybefor a quarter of an hour. By-an'-by some one come into the apartmentright acrost the alley from me. I could see the lights come on. Itwas a man. I saw him step into what must be the bedroom. He movedaround there some. I couldn't tell what he was doin' because he didn'tswitch 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 oppositethe fire escape where I was sittin' on the rail. He threw on thelights, an' I saw him plain. It was Cunningham, the old crook who hadbeat me outa fifteen hundred dollars. "

Kirby smoked steadily, evenly. Not a flicker of the eyelids showed theexcitement racing through his blood. At last he was coming close tothe heart of the mystery that surrounded the deaths of his uncle andhis valet. 

"I reckon I saw red for a minute, " Olson continued. "If I'd beencarryin' a gun I might 'a' used it right there an' then. But I hadn'tone, lucky for me. He sat down in a big easy-chair an' took a paperfrom his pocket. It looked like some kind of a legal document. Heread 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 bigcigar he'd unwrapped from silver paper after takin' it from a boxful. "

"He lighted the cigar after coming into the small room, " Kirby said, inthe 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 shuthis eyes like he was thinkin' somethin' over. All of a sudden I sawhim straighten up an' get rigid. Before he could rise from the chair awoman 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 thetime, 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 themoney 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 whatthey wanted. He didn't rise from the chair, but his voice rasped whenhe 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 itright now. ' He stiffened up at that. He come back at her with, 'Youcan't get no shot-gun settlement outa me. ' Words just poured from thatwoman's mouth. She roasted him to a turn, told how he was crooked as adog's hind leg an' every deal he touched was dirty. Said he couldn'teven 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, shelaid 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. Heslid down in his chair a little so's he could be comfortable while helistened. He grinned up at her like she was some kind of specimen hadbroke 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 asteady flow of words, mostly adjectives. Finally she quit, an' she wasplumb white with anger. 'Quite through?' yore uncle asked with thatice-cold voice of his. She asked him what he intended to do about asettlement. 'Not a thing, ' he told her. 'I did aim to give Hull twothousand to get rid of him. But I've changed my mind, ma'am. You cango 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 thatacid tongue of hers he'd intended to buy Hull off cheap. But she gothis 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 getout. 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 thelight. He swung it down on yore uncle's head an' the old man crumpledup. "

"So it was Hull killed him, after all, " Kirby said, drawing a longbreath of relief. 

Then, to his surprise when he thought about it later, a glitter ofmalicious cunning lit the eyes of the rancher. 

"That's what I'm tellin' you. It was Hull. I stood there an' saw justwhat I've been givin' you. "

"Was my uncle senseless then?"

"You bet he was. His head sagged clear over against the back of thechair. "

"What did they do then?"

"That's where I drop out. Mrs. Hull stepped straight to the window. Icrouched 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 therewas the sound of a shot. That would be when they sent the bulletthrough 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 howCunningham ought to be shot or strung up to a pole. If I went to thepolice with my story, like enough they 'd light on me as the killer. Imilled the whole thing over. After a while I went into a public boothdowntown an' 'phoned to the police. You recollect maybe the papersspoke about the man who called up headquarters with the news ofCunningham's death. "

"Yes, I recollect that all right. "

Kirby did not smile. He did not explain that he was the man. But heresolved to find out whether two men had notified the police of hisuncle's death. If not, Olson was lying in at least one detail. He hada suspicion that the man had not given him the whole truth. He wastelling part of it, but he was holding back something. A sly andfurtive look in his eyes helped to build this impression in the mind ofthe 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 herthe gun to do it with, is it? For that matter I don't know that thecrack 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 DryValley 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 anautomatic. "

"The evidence was that the wound in the head was probably made by abullet from an automatic. We're talkin' now about the blow _on_ thehead. "

"What are you drivin' at?" the rancher asked, scowling. "He wouldn'tbring 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. Thechances are all that he did, but legally we have no evidence thatsomebody 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 tothe police with your story? Then we can have Hull arrested. They'llgive him the third degree. My opinion is he'll break down under it andconfess. "

Olson consented with obvious reluctance, but he made a conditionprecedent 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 openan' shut case. "

Kirby considered. This story didn't wholly fit the facts as he knewthem. For instance, there was no explanation in it of how the roomwhere Cunningham was found murdered had become saturated with the odorof chloroform. Nor was it in character that Hull should risk firing agun, the sound of which might bring detection on him, while his victimlay helpless before him. Another blow or two on the skull would haveserved his purpose noiselessly. The cattleman knew from hisobservation of this case that the authorities had a way of muddlingthings. Perhaps it would be better to wait until the difficulties hadbeen smoothed out before going to them. 

"That suits me, " he said. "We'll tackle Hull when his wife isn't withhim. He goes downtown every day about ten o'clock. We'll pick him upin a taxi, run him out into the country somewhere, an' put him over thejumps. 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 wereflinging a glow upon the packed sidewalks when Kirby came out of thehotel and started uptown. 

He walked to the Wyndham, entered, and slipped up the stairs of therooming-house unnoticed. From the third story he ascended by a ladderto 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 hadnoticed the clothes-line which stretched across the Wyndham roof fromone corner to another. He went straight to one of the posts whichsupported the rope. He made a careful study of this, then walked tothe other upright support and examined the knots which held the linefast here. 

"I'm some good little guesser, " he murmured to himself as he turnedback to the ladder and descended to the floor below. 

He moved quietly along the corridor to the fire escape and stepped outupon it. Then, very quickly and expertly, he coiled a rope which hetook from a paper parcel that had been under his arm. At one end ofthe coil was a loop. He swung this lightly round his head once ortwice to feel the weight of it. The rope snaked forward and up. Itsloop dropped upon the stone abutment he had noticed when he had beenexamining the exteriors of the buildings with Cole Sanborn. Ittightened when he gave a jerk. 

Kirby climbed over the railing and swung himself lightly out intospace. A moment, and he was swaying beside the fire escape of theParadox. He caught the iron rail and pulled himself to the platform. 

By chance the blind was down. There was no light within, but after hiseyes had become used to the darkness he tried to take a squint at theroom from the sides of the blind. The shade hung an inch or two fromthe window frame, so that by holding his eye close he could get morethan a glimpse of the interior. 

He tapped gently on the glass. The lights inside flashed on. From oneviewpoint he could see almost half the room. He could go to the otherside of the blind and see most of the other half. 

A man sat down in a chair close to the opposite wall, letting his handsfall on the arms. A girl stood in front of him and pointed apaper-knife at his head, holding it as though it were a revolver. Thehead of the man fell sideways. 

Kirby tapped on the window pane again. He edged up the sash andstepped into the room. 

The young woman turned to him eagerly, a warm glow in her shell-pinkcheeks. "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 belongedto the staff of the private detective agency with which Kirby wasdealing. 

The Wyoming man smiled. "It proves my theory is possible. KnowingOlson, 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. Hewas one mighty interested observer. Now he must 'a' known there was aclothes-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 theroof an' got that line. Which is exactly what he did, I'll bet. Theline had been tied to the posts with a lot of knots. He hadn't time tountie it. So he cut the rope. It's been spliced out since by a pieceof 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 thatwhen I talk with the landlady of the Wyndham. If I'm right you can betthat cut rope has puzzled her some. She can't figure out why any onewould cut her rope down an' then leave it there. "

"If you can show me her rope was cut that night, I'll say you'reright, " the detective admitted. "And if you are right, then the Swedemust 'a' been right here when your uncle was killed. "

"_May_ have been, " Kirby corrected. "We haven't any authentic evidenceyet as to exactly when my uncle was killed. We're gettin' the timenarrowed down. It was between 9. 30 and 9. 50. We know that. "

"How do you know that?" the professional sleuth asked. "Accordin' toyour 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 whowas in the rooms from about 9. 55 till 10. 10. 

The cattleman corrected his statement. "All right, say between 9. 30and 10. 05. During that time Hull may have shot my uncle. Or Olson mayhave 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 therope on the roof, an' next mornin' leave for Dry Valley. "

The detective nodded. "_If_ he cut the rope. Lemme find out from thelandlady 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-storewhere they were standing. The hard eyes in his cold gambler's facewere lit up for once. 

"I'll say the man from Missouri has been shown, " he said. "I let on tothe dame at the Wyndham that I was after a gang of young sneak thievesin the neighborhood. Pretty soon I drifted her to the night of thetwenty-third--said they 'd been especially active that night and hadused 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. Sheremembered the night on account of its being the one when Mr. Cunningham was killed. Could the boys have used it to get into thestore 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 hisown. The detective was reasoning from a very partial knowledge of thefacts. He knew nothing about the relations of James Cunningham to hisuncle, nor even that the younger Cunninghams--or at least one ofthem--had been in his uncle's apartment the evening of his death. Hedid not know that Rose had been there. Wherefore his deductions, eventhough they had the benefit of being trained ones, were of slight valuein this case. 

"Will you take the key back to the Chief of Police?" Kirby asked him asthey separated. "Better not tell him who was with you or what we weredoin'. "

"I'm liable to tell him a whole lot, " the detective answered with heavyirony. "I'm figurin' on runnin' down this murderer myself if any oneasks 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. Hewas on his way downtown when the taxi caught him at Fourteenth andWelton. The cattleman jumped out from the machine and touched the fatman 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, buthe 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 thenight 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 apoliceman. It's up to you. Either way is agreeable to me. "

Beads of perspiration broke out on the fat man's forehead. He draggedfrom his left hip pocket the familiar bandanna handkerchief. With ithe 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'srooms. 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 inhis low, even tones. "I'm payin' for the ride. "

"If you got anything to say to me, right here's a good place to onloadit. "

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 thehead with the butt of a six-shooter_. "

Hull flung at him a look of startled terror. What did he mean? Or wasthere anything significant in the last sentence? Was it just a shot inthe dark?

"I'll go on back to the Paradox. If you want to see me, why, there'sas good a place as any. "

"We're choosin' the place, Hull, not you. You'll either step into thatcab 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 withyou. "

He stepped into the cab. At sight of Olson he showed both dismay andsurprise. He had heard of the threats the Dry Valley man had beenmaking. Was he starting on a journey the end of which would be summaryvengeance? A glance at Lane's face reassured him. This young fellowwould be no accomplice at murder. Yet the chill at his heart told himhe was in for serious trouble. 

He tried to placate Olson with a smile and made a motion to offer hishand. 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. "Wherewe 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 FrontRange 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 theclear sunshine. 

Hull looked across the valley nervously and brought his eyes back witha jerk. "Well, what's it all about? Whadjawant?"

"I know now why you lied at the inquest about the time you saw me onthe night my uncle was killed, " Kirby told him. 

"I didn't lie. Maybe I was mistaken. Any man's liable to make amistake. "

"You didn't make a mistake. You deliberately twisted your story so asto get me into my uncle's apartment forty minutes or so earlier than Iwas. Your reason was a good one. If I was in his rooms at the time hewas shot, that let you out completely. So you tried to lie me into thedeath cell at Cañon City. "

Hull's bandanna was busy. "Nothin' like that. I wouldn't play no sucha 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, yourotten 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 neckfor 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 theballs of his feet, then sank limply to the cement bench in front ofhim. He tried to gasp out a denial, but the words would not come. Inhis 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 atlast. 

"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 cousinJames as the murderer, Kirby experienced a shock at this accusation. He happened to glance at Olson, perhaps to see the effect of it uponhim. 

The effect was slight, but it startled Kirby. For just an instant theDry Valley farmer's eyes told the truth--shouted it as plainly as wordscould have done. He had expected that answer from Hull. He hadexpected it because he, too, had reason to believe it the truth. Thenthe 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'tit?" 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 seenme crack Cunningham with the butt of my gun. How did he see me? Wheredoes he claim he was when he seen it?"

"I was standin' on the fire escape of the Wyndham across thealley--about ten or fifteen feet away. I heard every word that wassaid by Cunningham an' yore wife. Oh, I've got you good. "

Hull threw up the sponge. He was caught and realized it. His onlychance 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 ofhis. First place, I didn't know he couldn't get water enough. If hegive 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?" Kirbysuggested. "If we don't start any arguments he ain't so liable to getmixed up in his facts. "

"By my way of figurin' he owed me about four to six thousand dollars hewouldn'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 wiseto it that he plain intended to do me. O' course I wasn't goin' tostand for that, an' I told him so. "

"What do you mean when you say you weren't goin' to stand for it. Myuncle told a witness that you said you'd give him two days, then you'dcome at him with a gun. "

The fat man mopped a perspiring face with his bandanna. His eyesdodged. "Maybe I told him so. I don't recollect. When he's sore afellow 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'dbeen expectin' trouble would I have let Mrs. Hull go up to his roomswith me?"

Kirby had his own view on that point, but he did not express it. Herather thought that Mrs. Hull had driven her husband upstairs and hadgone along to see that he stood to his guns. Once in the presence ofCunningham, she had taken the bit in her own teeth, driven to it bytemper. 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 mysix-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 trueuntil 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. Istarted to push the bell, but Mrs. Hull she walked right in an' ofcourse then I followed. He wasn't in the sittin'-room, but we seen himsmokin' 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 wedoin' there. She up an' told him, real civil, that we wanted to talkthe business over an' see if we couldn't come to some agreement aboutit. 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 headin at. Fact is, we'd about made up our minds to sue him. Well, hewent 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 wasnot enjoying himself. A cold terror constricted his heart. Was heslipping a noose over his own head? Was he telling more than heshould? He wished his wife were here to give him a hint. She had thebrains as well as the courage and audacity of the family. 

"Well, sir, I claim self-defense, " Hull went on presently. "A man'sgot no call to stand by an' see his wife shot down. Cunningham reachedfor a drawer an' started to pull out an automatic gun. Knowin' him, Iwas scared. I beat him to it an' lammed him one over the head with mygun. My idea was to head him off from drawin' on Mrs. Hull, but Ireckon 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 presenceof mind. She went to the window an' pulled down the curtain. Then wefigured, seein' as how we'd got in bad so far, we might as well try abluff. We tied yore uncle to the chair, intendin' for to make him signa check before we turned him loose. Right at that time the telephonerang. "

"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 buttin 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 atthe other end said, 'This you, Uncle James?' Kinda grufflike, I said, 'Yes. ' Then, 'James talkin', ' he said. 'We're on our way over now. ' Iwas 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 thedrug-store on the next corner for all we knew. We were in one hell ofa hole, an' it didn't look like there was any way out. We decided tobeat 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 wasstuck. "

"Did he say anything?"

"Not then. "

"Afterward?"

"He come to me after the murder was discovered--next day, I reckon itwas, in the afternoon, just before the inquest--and said could I lendhim 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 aperspiring, 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'sgot you in his power, " Kirby said. "The thing to do is to tell himright off the reel to go to Halifax. "

"If a fellow can afford to, " Olson put in significantly. "When you'vejust got through a little private murder of yore own, you ain't exactlyfree to tell one of the witnesses against you to go very far. "

"Tell you I didn't kill Cunningham, " Hull retorted sullenly. "Some oneelse 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 askedsuddenly. 

"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 manjeered. 

"And Shibo didn't let up on you. He kept annoyin' you afterward, " thecattleman 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 thesingle-track mind who never quit till he got what he wanted. Why washe shaking the bones of Shibo's blackmailing. Did he know more than hehad told? It was on the tip of Hull's tongue to tell something more, adamnatory fact against himself. But he stopped in time. He was indeep enough water already. He could not afford to tell the dynamiccattleman 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 hecould not at the present moment wring it from him. He had not, inpoint of fact, the faintest idea of what it was. Therefore he couldnot lay 'hold of any lever with which to pry it loose. He harked backto another point. 

"Do you know that my cousin and Miss Harriman came to see my uncle thatnight? I mean do you know of your own eyesight that they ever reachedhis 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 withMiss 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 fromour 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 theyoung fellow surely looked like the one that fainted at the inquestwhen you was testifyin' how you found yore uncle dead in the chair. Ireckon when you said it she got to seein' a picture of one of the youngfellows 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 yoreuncle's room. The wife an' me was talkin' it over whether I hadn'tought 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 themcomin' 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?" Kirbyreiterated. 

"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 goup in the elevator. It moves kinda slow, you know. The heavy-setyoung fellow went up first. Then two-three minutes later the elevatorwent down an' the dude an' the young lady went up. "

Kirby put his foot on the cement bench and rested his forearm on hisknee. The cattleman's steady eyes were level with those of the unhappyman 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 tirein the street blowin' out. But come to think of it later we figured itwas a shot. "

"You don't know for sure. "

"Well, come to that I--I don't reckon I do. Not to say for certainsure. "

A tense litheness had passed into the rough rider's figure. It was asthough 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 itbetween the time he went up an' the other two went up? Or was it afterJack 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' theothers followed. "

"You reckon? I'm askin' for definite information. A man's life mayhang 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 onmy uncle's death?"

"No, sir. Honest I don't. "

Olson shot a question at the man on the grill. "Did you kill the Japservant, 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 seeanything suspicious going on at any time?" Kirby asked. 

"No, sir. Nothin' a-tall. "

The rough rider signaled the taxicab, which was circling the lake atthe foot of the hill. Presently it came up the incline and took on itspassengers. 

"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'vecome to see you on serious business, Mrs. Hull. Your husband hasconfessed how he did for my uncle. Unless you tell the whole truthhe's likely to go to the death cell. "

She gasped, her fear-filled eyes fastened on him. Her hand movedblindly 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 yellowcheeks. 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 househere under guard. Come an' see if you doubt it. "

She took him promptly at his suggestion. One look at her husband'sfat, 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' onthe fire escape acrost the alley. "

She had nothing to say. The wind had died out of the sails of heranger. 

"We're not goin' to arrest Hull yet--not technically, " Kirby explainedto her. "I'm arrangin' to hire a private detective to be with him allthe time. He'll keep him in sight from mornin' till night. Is thatsatisfactory, 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 walkinto 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 quitesure when she had heard the shot in its relation to the trips of theelevator up and down. The door was closed at the time. They had heardit while standing at the window. Her impression was that the sound hadcome after James Cunningham had ascended to the floor above. 

Kirby put one question to the woman innocently that sent the colorwashing out of her cheeks. 

"Which of you went back upstairs to untie my uncle after you had runaway 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 thesemurders. Your husband is one of these suspects. I'm another. I meanto find out who killed Cunningham an' Horikawa. I think I knowalready. In my judgment your husband didn't do it. If he did, so muchthe 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 astatement here signed by me to the effect that neither you nor yourhusband has confessed killing James Cunningham. It might make yourmind 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 ifyou'll write it, Mrs. Hull. "

Not quite easy in her mind, the woman sat down and took the pen heoffered. 

"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 lefthand_. The cattleman signed it. He left the paper with her. 

After the arrangement for the private detective to watch Hull had beenmade, Olson and Lane walked together to the hotel of the latter. 

"Come up to my room a minute and let's talk things over, " Kirbysuggested. 

As soon as the door was closed, the man from Twin Buttes turned on thefarmer 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'vetold 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 _youdidn'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'reholdin' 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 thedesire for revenge were once more at open war. 

"I'll tell you what you did that night, " answered Kirby, without theleast trace of doubt in voice or manner. "When Mrs. Hull pulled downthe blind, you ran up to the roof an' cut down the clothes-line. Youwent back to the fire escape, fixed up some kind of a lariat, an' flungthe loop over an abutment stickin' from the wall of the Paradox. Youswung across to the fire escape of the Paradox. There you could seeinto 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' infrom the right, you can see the left half of the room. If you look infrom the other side, you see the other part of it. That's just whatyou did. "

For the moment Olson was struck dumb. How could this man know exactlywhat he had done unless some one had seen him?

"You know so much I reckon I'll let you tell the rest, " theScandinavian said with uneasy sarcasm. 

"Afraid you'll have to talk, Olson. Either to me or to the Chief atheadquarters. You've become a live suspect. Figure it out yourself. You threaten Cunningham by mail. You make threats before peopleorally. You come to Denver an' take a room in the next house to wherehe lives. On the night he's killed, by your own admission, you standon the platform a few feet away an' raise no alarm while you see himslugged. Later, you hear the shot that kills him an' still you don'tcall the officers. Yet you're so interested in the crime that you runupstairs, cut down the clothes-line, an' at some danger swing over tothe Paradox. The question the police will want to know is whether theman who does this an' then keeps it secret may not have the best reasonin 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 roomat 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 moreweight 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 Cunninghamis 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 theedge of the blind five minutes later, he was goin' over the papers inthe 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 cameinto 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 atJames, an' he said, 'My God, you didn't--' That was all. No need tofinish. O' course James denied it. He'd jumped up to help supportMiss Harriman outa the room. Maybe a coupla minutes later he came backalone. He went right straight back to the desk, found inside of threeseconds the legal document I told you I'd seen his uncle readingglanced it over, turned to the back page, jammed the paper back in thecubby-hole, an' then switched off the light. A minute later the lightwas switched off in the big room, too. Then I reckoned it was time tobeat it down the fire escape. I did. I went back into the Wyndhamcarryin' the clothes-line under my coat, walked upstairs withoutmeetin' anybody, left the rope on the roof, an' got outa the housewithout 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 cameback to the fire escape?"

"I fixed it on the roof--made the loop an' all there. Figured I mightbe 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 assin, anyhow. If he didn't kill the old man, it wasn't because hedidn't want to. Maybe he did. The testimony at the inquest, as I readthe papers, left it that maybe the blow on the head had killedCunningham. Anyhow, I wasn't gonna mix myself in it. "

Kirby said nothing. He looked out of the window of his room withoutseeing 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 deepbreath of relief. "By Jupiter, I'm glad to hear you say so. What madeyou 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 knewjust 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 thewindow an' gunned Cunningham like you said. "

"Yes, you might have, but you didn't. I'm not goin' to have youarrested, Olson, but I want you to stay in Denver for a day or twountil this is settled. We may need you as a witness. It won't belong. 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 asa matter of course. "You're no fool, Olson. You wouldn't stir upsuspicion against yourself again by runnin' away now, after I tell youthat 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 personspotted, at least I think I have. I've made a lot of mistakes since Istarted roundin' up this fellow with the brand of Cain. Maybe I'mmakin' another. But I've a hunch that I'm ridin' herd on the right onethis time. "

He rose. Olson took the hint. He would have liked to ask somequestions, for his mind was filled with a burning curiosity. But hishost's manner did not invite them. The rancher left. 

Up and down his room Kirby paced a beat from the window to the door andback again. His mind was busy dissecting, analyzing, classifying. Some one had once remarked that he had a single-track mind. In onesense he had. The habit of it was to follow a train of thought to itslogical conclusion. He did not hop from one thing to anotherinconsequently. 

Just now his brain was working on his cousin James. He went back tothe first day of his arrival in Denver and sifted the evidence for andagainst him. A stream of details, fugitive impressions, and mentalreactions flooded through. 

For one of so cold a temperament James had been distinctly friendly tohim. He had gone out of his way to find bond for him when he had beenarrested. He had tried to smooth over difficulties between him andJack. But Kirby, against his desire, found practical reasons of policyto explain these overtures. James had known he would soon be releasedthrough the efforts of other cattlemen. He had stepped in to win theWyoming cousin's confidence in order that he might prove an assetrather than a liability to his cause. The oil broker had readilyagreed to protect Esther McLean from publicity, but the reason for hisforbearance was quite plain now. He had been protecting himself, nother. 

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 hismisdeed. Yet beneath the surface of his cold manner James was probablyswept by heady passions. His love for Phyllis Harriman had carried himbeyond prudence, beyond honor. He had duped the uncle whose good-willhe had carefully fostered for many years, and at the hour of hisuncle's death he had been due to reap the whirlwind. 

The problem sifted down to two factors. One was the time element. Theother was the temperament of James. A man may be unprincipled and yetdraw the line at murder. He may be a seducer and still lack thecourage and the cowardice for a cold-blooded killing. Kirby hadstudied 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 Kirbyand Rose had met him coming out of the Paradox white and shaken, hisarm 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. Theexplanation he had given was quite inadequate as a cause. 

Twenty-four hours later Kirby had discovered the dead body of theJapanese valet Horikawa. The man had been dead perhaps a day. Morehours than one had been spent by Kirby pondering on the possibleconnection 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 himand threatened to divulge it. James, with the fear of death in hisheart, might have gone each day into the apartment where the man waslurking, taking to him food and newspapers. They might have quarreled. The strained tendons of Cunningham's arm could be accounted for a gooddeal more readily on the hypothesis of a bit of expert jiu-jitsu thanon that of a fall downstairs. There were pieces in the puzzle Kirbycould not fit into place. One of them was to find a sufficient causefor driving Horikawa to conceal himself when there was no evidenceagainst him of the crime. 

The time element was tremendously important in the solution of themystery of Cunningham's death. Kirby had studied this a hundred times. On the back of an envelope he jotted down once more such memoranda ashe knew or could safely guess at. Some of these he had to changeslightly 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 forHorikawa in it at all unless he represented _X_ in that ten minutes oftime unaccounted for. It was inaccurate. Olson was entirely vague asto time, but he could be checked up pretty well by the others. Hullwas not quite sure of his clock, and Rose could only say that she hadreached the Paradox "quite a little after a quarter to ten. "Fortunately his own arrival checked up hers pretty closely, since shecould 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 leftthe apartment more than a minute or so before Rose arrived. It wasquite possible that her coming had frightened him out. 

So far as the dovetailing of time went, there was only the ten minutesor less between the leaving of the Hulls and the appearance of Jamesleft unexplained. If some one other than those mentioned on hispenciled memoranda had killed Cunningham, it must have been betweenhalf-past nine and twenty minutes to ten. The _X_ he had written inthere was the only possible unknown quantity. By the use of hard workand common sense he had eliminated the rest of the time so far asoutsiders 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 carriedwith him to the restaurant the problem that had become the pivot of allhis 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 hadchosen it for that reason. The man who stepped into the booth with himand sat down on the opposite seat was Hudson, the clerk whom James hadaccused 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 henever would go out and leave the key to the private drawer inside thesafe. But he left the key in the lock--for just five minutes--whileMiss Harriman came to see him about something this morning. He walkedout with her to the elevator. I ducked into his office. There was thekey in the drawer, and in the drawer, right at the bottom under somepapers, I found what I wanted. "

He handed to Kirby the sheets of paper found in the living-room of theapartment where Horikawa had been found dead. 

The cattleman looked them over and put them in his pocket. "Thought hewouldn't destroy them. He daren't. There might come a time when thetranslation of this writing would save his life. He couldn't tell whatthe 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. JamesCunningham, " the clerk said vindictively. "He bawled me out before awhole roomful of people when he knew all the time I hadn't lost thepapers. I stood it, because right then I had to. But I've dug up abetter job and start in on it Monday. He's been claiming he was soanxious to get these sheets back to you. Well, I hope he's satisfiednow. "

"He had no right to keep 'em. They weren't his. I'll have 'emtranslated, then turn the sheets over to the police if they have anybearing on the case. Of course they may be just a private letter orsomething of that sort. "

The clerk went on to defend himself for what he had done. Cunninghamhad treated him outrageously. Besides, they weren't his papers. Hehad no business to hold back evidence in a murder case because it didnot suit him to have it made public. Didn't Mr. Lane think he had doneright 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, ofcourse, instigated the theft of the papers. He was entitled to them. James had appropriated them by a trick. Besides, it was a matter ofpublic and private justice that the whole Cunningham mystery be clearedup as soon as possible. But he was not prepared to pass on Hudson'sright to be the instrument in the case. The man was, of course, aconfidential employee of the oil broker. There was one thing to besaid in his favor. Kirby had not offered him anything for what he haddone nor did he want anything in payment. It was wholly a gratuitousservice. 

The cattleman had made inquiries. He knew of a Japanese interpreterused in the courts. Foster had recommended him as entirely reliable. To this man Kirby went. He explained what he wanted. While theJapanese clerk read in English the writing to him and afterward wroteout on a typewriter the translation of it, Kirby sat opposite him atthe table to make sure that there was no juggling with the originaldocument. 

The affair was moving to its climax. Within a few hours now Kirbyexpected to see the murderer of his uncle put under arrest. It wastime to take the Chief of Police into his confidence. He walked downSixteenth toward the City Hall. 

At Curtis Street the traffic officer was semaphoring with energeticgesture the east and west bound vehicles to be on their way. Kirbyjaywalked across the street diagonally and passed in front of anelectric headed south. He caught one glimpse of the driver and stoodsmiling 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 torefuse. But she knew he was dangerous. He knew much that it was vitalto 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 talkwithout 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 delicatedisdain she held at command. 

"I've been wonderin' about somethin', " he said. "When James telephonedmy uncle, on the evenin' he was killed, that you an' he were on the wayto his rooms, he said you were together; but James reached there alone, you an' Jack arrivin' a few minutes later. Did James propose that hego first?"

The young woman did not answer. But there was no longer disdain in herfear-filled eyes. She swung the car, as though by a sudden impulse, tothe left and drove to the building where the older James Cunningham hadhad 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 motionperfectly synchronized. In her close-fitting, stylish gown she wasextremely handsome. There was a kind of proud defiance in the set ofher oval jaw, as though even in the trouble that involved her she was acreature set apart from others. 

"Mr. Lane has a question he wants to ask you, Jack, " she said when theywere 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 ofwell-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 friendsand taken away. No doubt she had told them her story. Did thecattleman 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'sstenographers, a Miss McLean, has just been married to a friend ofmine, 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 saidsimply. 

"Did we come here to discuss stenographers?" asked the young woman witha little curl of the lip. "You mentioned a question, Mr. Lane. Hadn'twe 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 askedcurtly. 

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'mofferin' you a chance to come through with what you know before it'stoo late. You can kick in if you want to. You can stay out if youdon'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 whatyou're driving at?"

"Did James kill Uncle James?"

"Of course he didn't, but you may have it in that warped mind of yoursthat he did. "

"What I think doesn't matter. All that will count is the truth. It'sbound to come out. There are witnesses that saw you come to theParadox, a witness that actually saw you in uncle's rooms. If youdon't believe me, I'll tell you somethin'. When you an' Miss Harrimancame into the room where my uncle had been killed, James was sittin' atthe desk lookin' over papers. A gun was lyin' close by his hand. MissHarriman 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 Kirbywith dilated, horror-filled eyes. 

"He knows everything--everything. I think he must be the devil, " shemurmured 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 wholematter 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 takento mean guilt. "

"Why should it go to the police? Be reasonable, man. James didn't doit, but he's in an awful hole. No jury on earth would refuse toconvict 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 thatbetter than you. I'll give you two hours to decide. Meet you atJames'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 wesend 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 goingto ruin three lives because you're so pigheaded or because you wantyour name in the papers as a great detective. Is there anything in theworld we can do to head you off?"

"Nothin'. And if lives are ruined it's not my fault. I'll promisethis: The man or woman I point to as the one who killed Uncle Jameswill 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 gotyou worried? Down in the bottom of your heart you're not dead sure hedidn't do it--either one of you. "

The young woman took a step toward Kirby, hands outstretched in dumbpleading. She gave him her soft, appealing eyes, a light of proudhumility in them. 

"Don't do it!" she begged. "He's your own cousin--and my husband. Ilove 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 ofher selfishness. She was one of those modern young women who take, butdo not give. At least that had been his impression of her. She hadspecialized, he judged, in graceful and lovely self-indulgence. A partof her code had been to get the best possible bargain for her charm andbeauty, and as a result of her philosophy of life time had alreadybegun to enamel on her a slight hardness of finish. Yet she hadmarried James instead of his uncle. She had risked the loss of a largefortune to follow her heart. Perhaps, if children came, she mightstill escape into the thoughts and actions that give life its truevalue. 

A faint, sphinxlike smile touched his face. "No use worryin'. Thatdoesn't help any. I'll go as easy as I can. We'll meet in two hoursat 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 appointmenthe had made for a meeting at the office of his cousin James. He had atalk with the Hulls and another with the Chief of Police. He saw Olsonand Rose McLean. He even found the time to forge two initials at thefoot of a typewritten note on the stationery of James Cunningham, andto send the note to its destination by a messenger. 

Rose met him by appointment at the entrance to the Equitable Buildingand they rode up in the elevator together to the office of his cousin. Miss Harriman, as she still called herself in public, was there withJack and her husband. 

James was ice-cold. He bowed very slightly to Rose. Chairs werealready placed. 

For a moment Kirby was embarrassed. He drew James aside. Cunninghammurmured an exchange of sentences with his wife, then escorted her tothe door. Rose was left with the three cousins. 

"I suppose Jack has told you of the marriage of Esther McLean, " Kirbysaid 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 wantto open the meetin' by tellin' you on behalf of this young woman an'myself that we think you an unmitigated cur. We are debarred fromsayin' so before your wife, but it's a pleasure to tell you so inprivate. Is that quite clear?"

The oil broker flushed darkly. He made no answer. "You not only tookadvantage of a young woman's tender heart. You were willin' our deaduncle should bear the blame for it. Have you any other word than theone I have used to suggest as a more fittin' one?" the Wyoming manasked bitingly. 

Jack answered for his brother. "Suppose we pass that count of theindictment, unless you have a practical measure to suggest inconnection with it. We plead guilty. "

There wag a little gleam of mirth in Kirby's eyes. "You an' I havediscussed the matter already, Jack. I regret I expressed my opinion sovigorously then. We have nothin' practical to suggest, if you arereferrin' to any form of compensation. Esther is happily married, thank God. All we want is to make it perfectly plain what we think ofMr. James Cunningham. "

James acknowledged this and answered. "That is quite clear. I may saythat I entirely concur in your estimate of my conduct. I might makeexplanations, but I can make none that justify me to myself. "

"In that case we may consider the subject closed, unless Miss McLeanhas something to say. "

Kirby turned to Rose. She looked at James Cunningham, and he mighthave 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 bepresent. "

"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 aclaim 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 itopen. Mr. And Mrs. Hull, Olson, and the Chief of Police followedPhyllis 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 endof it, but he was not smoking. He was an Irishman, and as it happenedopen-minded. He liked this brown-faced young fellow fromWyoming--never had believed him guilty from the first. Moreover, hewas 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 thatI've talked with the Chief several times. He's given me a lot of goodtips an' I've worked under his direction. "

The head of the police force grinned. The tips he had given Lane hadbeen of no value, but he was quite willing to take any public creditthere might be. He sat back and listened now while Kirby told hisstory. 

"Outside of the Chief every one here is connected closely with thiscase an' is involved in it. It happens that every man an' woman of uswere in my uncle's apartments either at the time of his death or justbefore or after. " Kirby raised a hand to meet Olson's protest. "Oh, Iknow. You weren't in the rooms, but you were on the fire escapeoutside. From the angle of the police you may have been in. All youhad to do was to pass through an open window. "

There was a moment's silence, while Kirby hesitated in what order totell his facts. Hull mopped the back of his overflowing neck. PhyllisCunningham moistened her dry lips. A chord in her throat ached tensely. 

"Suspicion fell first on me an' on Hull, " Kirby went on. "You've seenit all thrashed out in the papers. I had been unfriendly to my unclefor years, an' I was seen goin' to his rooms an' leavin' them thatevening. 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 meinto 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 UncleJames an' had threatened to go after him with a gun in _two days_ afterthat time--and it was _just forty-eight hours later he was killed_. Itlooked a lot like Hull to me. 

"I had one big advantage, Chief, a lot of inside facts not open toyou, " the cattleman explained. "I knew, for instance, that Miss McLeanhere had been in the rooms just before me. She was the young woman myuncle had the appointment to meet there before ten o'clock. You willremember Mr. Blanton's testimony. Miss McLean an' I compared notes, sowe were able to shave down the time during which the murder must havetaken place. We worked together. She gave me other important data. Perhaps she had better tell in her own words about the clue she foundthat we followed. "

Rose turned to the Chief. Her young face flew a charming flag ofcolor. Her hair, in crisp tendrils beneath the edge of the small hatshe wore, was the ripe gold of wheat-tips in the shock. The tenderblue 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 ofperfume. On my way upstairs I passed in the dark a man and a woman. Ihad got a whiff of the same perfume then. It was violet. So I knewthey had been in the apartment just before me. Mr. Lane discoveredlater that Miss Harriman used that scent. "

"Which opened up a new field of speculation, " Kirby went on. "We beganto run down facts an' learned that my cousin James had secretly marriedMiss Harriman at Golden a month before. My uncle had just learned thenews. He had a new will made by his lawyer, one that cut James offwithout 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'sdesk a few minutes after his death. "

James did not wink an eye in distress. The hand of the woman sittingbeside him went out instantly to his in a warm, swift pressure. Shewas white to the lips, but her thought was for the man she loved andnot 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. Helater pretended to lose an important paper that might have cleared upthe case. He tried to get me to drop the matter an' go back toWyoming. The coil wound closer round him. 

"About this time another factor attracted my attention. I had the goodluck to unearth at Dry Valley the man who had written threatenin'letters to my uncle an' to discover that he was stayin' next door tothe 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 astatement 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 whoactually killed my uncle. If he was tellin' the whole truth, hisevidence points either to the Hulls or my cousin James. But it wasquite possible he had seen my uncle tied up an' helpless, an' hadhimself 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 Hullknocked him senseless. It was Hull who had given him two days more tolive. And that's not all. Not an hour an' a half ago I had a talkwith Mrs. Hull. She admitted, under pressure, _that she returned to myuncle's apartment again to release him from the chair_. She was alonewith him, an' he was wholly in her power. She is a woman with apassionate sense of injury. What happened then nobody else saw. "

Mrs. Hull opened her yellow, wrinkled lips to speak, but Kirby checkedher. "Not yet, Mrs. Hull. I'll return to the subject. If you wishyou can defend yourself then. "

He stopped a second time to find the logical way of proceeding with hisstory. The silence in the room was tense. The proverbial pin couldhave been heard. Only one person in the room except Kirby knew wherethe lightning was going to strike. That person sat by the door chewingthe end of a cigar impassively. A woman gave a strangled little sob ofpent 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 steadilyfixed on him, for the first time gave visible sign of his anxiety. Itcame in the form of a little gulping sound in his throat. 

"Cole Sanborn and I found Horikawa in the room where he had beenkilled. The doctors thought he must have been dead about a day. Justa day before this time Miss McLean an' I met James Cunningham comin'out of the Paragon. He was white an' shaking. He was sufferin' fromnausea, an' his arm was badly strained. He explained it by sayin' hehad fallen downstairs. Later, I wondered about that fall. I'm stillwonderin'. Had he just come out of the apartment where Horikawa washidin'? Had the tendons of that arm been strained by a jiu-jitsutwist? _And had he left Horikawa behind him dead on the bed?_"

James, white to the lips, looked steadily at his cousin. "A veryingenious 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 theoil broker quietly, with obvious irony. 

His wife was sobbing softly. The man's arm went round her andtightened in wordless comfort. 

From his pocket Kirby drew the envelope upon which he had a few hoursearlier penciled the time schedule relating to his uncle's death. 

"One of the points that struck me earliest about this mystery was thatthe man who solved it would have to work out pretty closely the timeelement. Inside of an hour ten people beside Uncle James were in hisrooms. 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 scheduleI made out. Mebbe you'd like to see it. " He handed the envelope toJames. 

Jack rose and looked over his brother's shoulder. His quick eye randown 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 ofus were with him practically every other minute. _X_ is the wholeunknown quantity. It is the time in which he was prob'ly actuallykilled. It is the man who _may_, by some thousandth chance, havestepped 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 fiveminutes instead of ten, providing your schedule is correct, " James cutin. "For according to it I was there part of the time and Mrs. Hullpart of the rest of it. "

"Yes, " agreed his cousin. 

"But you may have decided that Mrs. Hull is _X_ or that I am, " jeeredJames. "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 thingsabout 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'mtalkin' about the important witnesses, of course. Well, Cole an' Ifound a paper in the living-room of the apartment where Horikawa waskilled. 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'tsuspect my cousin James at all. We were workin' together on thisthing. At least I thought so. I found out better later. I took thepaper to him to get it translated, thinkin' maybe Horikawa might havewritten some kind of a confession. James lost that paper. Anyhow, heclaimed he did. My theory is that Horikawa had some evidence againsthim. He was afraid of what that paper would tell. "

"Unfortunately for your theory it was a clerk of mine who lost thepaper. I had nothing to do with it, " James retorted coldly. "No doubtthe paper has been destroyed, but not by me. Quite by accident, Ijudge. "

His cousin let off a bomb beneath the broker's feet. "You'll be gladto know that the paper wasn't destroyed, " he said. "I have it, with atranslation, in my pocket at the present moment. "

James clutched the arms of his chair. His knuckles grew white with thestrain. "Where--where did you find it?" he managed to say. 

"In the most private drawer of your safe, where you hid it, " Kirbyreplied quietly. 

Cunningham visibly fought for his composure. He did not speak until hehad perfect self-control. Then it was with a sneer. 

"And this paper which you allege you found in my safe--after a burglarywhich, no doubt, you know is very much against the law--does it convictme of the murder of my uncle?"

The tension in the room was nerve-shattering. Men and women suspendedbreathing 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 herhusband's arms. Jack rose, his face working, and caught his brother bythe shoulder. These two had suffered greatly, not only because oftheir fear for him, but because of the fear of his guilt that hadpoisoned their peace. 

James, too, was moved, as much by their love for him as by the suddenrelief that had lifted from his heart. But his pride held himoutwardly cold. 

"Since you've decided I didn't do it, Mr. Lane, perhaps you'll tell usthen 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 notoften 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 longeyes forewarned him that Nemesis was at hand. But he faced without aflicker 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 wordswere out of his mouth the Chief had his prisoner handcuffed. 

Shibo turned to Kirby. "You tellum police I killum Mr. Cunnin'lam andHorikawa?"

"Yes. "

"I plenty sorry I no kill you. "

"You did your best, Shibo. Took three shots at ten feet. Rottenshooting. "

"Do you mean that he actually tried to kill you?" James asked insurprise. 

"In the Denmark Building, the other night, at eleven o'clock. And I'llsay 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 thathad 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 wasmy motto right then. No, when I first had time to figure on who couldbe the gentleman that was so eager to make me among those absent, Irather laid it to Cousin James, with Mr. Cass Hull second on my list ofsuspects. The fellow had a searchlight an' he flashed it on me. Icould see above it a bandanna handkerchief over the face. I'd seen abandanna like it in Hull's hands. But I had to eliminate Hull. Thegunman 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 therungs of his chair. This attention to personal details of hisconformation was embarrassing. 

"Those small feet stuck in my mind, " Kirby went on. "Couldn't seem toget rid of the idea. They put James out of consideration, unless, ofcourse, 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' thenI thought of Shibo. "

"Had you suspected him before?" This from Olson. 

"Not of the murders. I had learned that he had seen the Hulls comefrom my uncle's rooms an' had kept quiet. Hull admitted that he hadbeen forced to bribe him. I tackled Shibo with it an' threatened totell the police. Evidently he became frightened an' tried to murderme. I got a note makin' an appointment at the Denmark Building ateleven in the night. The writer promised to tell me who killed myuncle. 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 atschool to recite. "I wrote the note, " she said. "Shibo made me. Ididn't know he meant to kill Mr. Lane. He said he'd tell everything ifI 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 hemight be a tool of my cousin James. A detective hired by me saw himleave James's office. That didn't absolutely settle the point. Hemight have seen somethin' an' be blackmailin' him too. That was theway of it, wasn't it?" He turned point-blank to Cunningham. 

"Yes, " the broker said. "He had us right--not only me, but Jack andPhyllis, too. I couldn't let him drag her into it. The day you saw mewith the strained tendon I had been with him and Horikawa in theapartment next to the one Uncle James rented. We quarreled. I gotfurious 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 toterms. 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 wentback to the previous question. "Next time I saw Shibo I took a look athis feet. He was wearin' a pair o' shoes that looked to me mighty likethose worn by the man that ambushed me. They didn't have any cappieces across the toes. I'd noticed that even while he was shootin' atme. It struck me that it would be a good idea to look over hisquarters in the basement. Shibo has one human weakness. He's adevotee of the moving pictures. Nearly every night he takes in a showon Curtis Street. The Chief lent me a man, an' last night we wentthrough his room at the Paradox. We found there a flashlight, abandanna handkerchief with holes cut in it for the eyes, an' in themattress two thousand dollars in big bills. We left them where wefound them, for we didn't want to alarm Shibo. "

The janitor looked at him without emotion. "You plenty devil man, " hesaid. 

"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' himas a tool. Horikawa's confession clears that up. "

Kirby handed to the Chief of Police the sheets of paper found in theapartment where the valet was killed. Attached to these by a clip wasthe translation. The Chief read this last aloud. 

Horikawa, according to the confession, had been in Cunningham's roomssponging and pressing a suit of clothes when the promoter came home onthe afternoon of the day of his death. Through a half-open door he hadseen 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 forfifty dollars. The valet had told Shibo later and they had talked itover, but with no thought in Horikawa's mind of robbery. 

He was helping Shibo fix a window screen at the end of the hall thatevening when they saw the Hulls come out of Cunningham's apartment. Something furtive in their manner struck the valet's attention. It wasin the line of his duties to drop in and ask whether the promoter'sclothes needed any attention for the next day. He discovered after hewas in the living-room that Shibo was at his heels. They foundCunningham trussed up to a chair in the smaller room. He wasunconscious, evidently from a blow in the head. 

The first impulse of Horikawa had been to free him and carry him to thebedroom. But Shibo interfered. He pushed his hand into the pocket ofthe smoking-jacket and drew out a pocket-book. It bulged with bills. In two sentences Shibo sketched a plan of operations. They would stealthe money and lay the blame for it on the Hulls. Cunningham's owntestimony would convict the fat man and his wife. The evidence of thetwo Japanese would corroborate his. 

Cunningham's eyelids flickered. There was a bottle of chloroform onthe desk. The promoter had recently suffered pleurisy pains and hadbeen advised by his doctor to hold a little of the drug against theplace where they caught him most sharply. Shibo snatched up thebottle, drenched a handkerchief with some of its contents, and droppedthe handkerchief over the wounded man's face. 

A drawer was open within reach of Cunningham's hand. In it lay anautomatic pistol The two men were about to hurry away. Shibo turned atthe door. To his dismay he saw that the handkerchief had slipped fromCunningham's face and the man was looking at him. He had recoveredconsciousness. 

Cunningham's eyes condemned him to death. In their steely depths therewas a gleam of triumph. He was about to call for help. Shibo knewwhat that meant. He and Horikawa were in a strange land. They wouldbe sent to prison, an example made of them because they wereforeigners. Automatically, without an instant of delay, he acted toprotect himself. 

Two strides took him back to Cunningham. He reached across his bodyfor the automatic and sent a bullet into the brain of the man bound tothe chair. 

Horikawa, to judge by his confession, was thunderstruck. He was anamiable little fellow who never had stepped outside the law. Now hewas caught in the horrible meshes of a murder. He went to pieces andbegan to sob. Shibo stopped him sharply. 

Then they heard some one coming. It was too late to get away by thedoor. They slipped through the window to the fire escape and from itto the window of the adjoining apartment. Horikawa, still sick withfear, stumbled against the rail as he clambered over it and cut hisface 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 cameout of the elevator. Returning with first-aid supplies a few minuteslater, he saw Jack and Phyllis. 

It was easy to read between the lines that Shibo's will had dominatedHorikawa. He had been afraid that his companion's wounded face wouldlead to his arrest. If so, he knew it would be followed by aconfession. He forced Horikawa to hide in the vacant apartment tillthe wound should heal. Meanwhile he fed him and brought him newspapers. 

There were battles of will between the two. Horikawa was terriblyfrightened 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 agrilling third degree his countryman would break down. He killedHorikawa because he knew he could not trust him. 

This last fact was not, of course, in Horikawa's confession. But thedread of it was there. The valet had come to fear Shibo. He wasconvinced 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 thestatement. 

Shibo heard the confession read without the twitching of a facialmuscle. He shrugged his shoulders, accepting the inevitable with thefatalism of his race. 

"He weak. He no good. He got yellow streak. I bossum, " was hiscomment. 

"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'rehard on James. I don't know why you're so hard. But you've cleared usall. 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 andfriendly smile. Just then his face did not look hard. He could nottell her why he had held his cousin on the grill so long, that it hadbeen in punishment for what he had done to a defenseless friend of hisin 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 Kirbythat evening at his hotel. 

"It's about James I want to see you, " he said, then stuck for lack ofwords with which to clothe his idea. He prodded at the rug with thepoint 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. Youmay not believe it, but he went on your bond because he liked you. "

"Come, Jack, you're tryin' to seduce my judgment by the personalappeal, " Kirby answered, laughing. 

"I know I am. What I want to say is this. I believe he would havemarried Esther McLean if it hadn't been for one thing. He felldesperately in love with Phyllis afterward. The odd thing is that sheloves him, too. They didn't dare to be above-board about it on accountof Uncle James. They treated him shabbily, of course. I don't denythat. "

"You can hardly deny that, " Kirby agreed. 

"But, damn it, one swallow doesn't make a summer. You've seen theworst side of him all the way through. "

"I dare say I have. " Kirby let his hand fall on the well-tailoredshoulder of his cousin. "But I haven't seen the worst side of hisbrother 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 aColorado night, with a young moon looking down through the cool, rareatmosphere found only in the Rockies. He drove her through the city toBerkeley and up the hill to Inspiration Point. 

They talked only in intermittent snatches. Rose had the gift ofcomradeship. Her tongue never rattled. With Kirby she did not need tomake talk. They had always understood each other without words. 

But to-night their silences were filled with new and awkwardsignificances. She guessed that an emotional crisis was at hand. Withall her heart she welcomed and shrank from it. For she knew that afterto-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 hadguarded and cherished. 

At the summit he killed the engine. They looked across the valley tothe hills dimmed by night's velvet dusk. 

"We're through with all that back there, " he said, and she knew hemeant the tangled trails of the past weeks into which their fate hadled them. "We don't have to keep our minds full of suspicions an' tryto find out things in mean, secret ways. There, in front of us, isGod's world, waitin' for you an' me, Rose. "

Though she had expected it, she could not escape a sense of suddenlystilled pulses followed by a clamor of beating blood. She quivered, vibrating, trembling. She was listening to the call of mate to matesounding clear above all the voices of the world. 

A flash of soft eyes darted at him. He was to be her man, and themaiden heart thrilled at the thought. She loved all of him sheknew--his fine, clean thoughts, his brave and virile life, the splendidbody that was the expression of his personality. There was a line ofgolden down on his cheek just above where he had shaved. Her warm eyesdared 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 herin every fiber of his being. 

He asked no formal question. She answered none. Under the steadyregard of his eyes she made a small, rustling movement toward him. Heryoung and lissom body was in his arms, a warm and palpitating thing oflife and joy. He held her close. Her eyelashes swept his cheek andsent a strange, delightful tingle through his blood. 

Kirby held her head back and looked into her eyes again. Under thestarlight their lips slowly met. 

The road lay clear before them after many tangled trails.