ere."

"He was. He brought away with him a page cut from the marriage-license
registry."

James lifted a hand of protest. "Ah! There we come to the parting of
the ways. I can't concede that."

"No, but you know it's true," said Kirby bluntly.

"Not at all. He surely would not mutilate a public record."

"We needn't go into that. He did. But that didn't keep us from
getting the information we wanted."

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

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

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

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

The expression on the oil broker's face was either astonishment or the
best counterfeit of it Kirby had ever seen.

"I beg pardon. _What_ did you say?"

"I told you, what you already know, that Esther McLean was married to
Uncle James at Golden on the twenty-first of last month."

"Miss McLean and Uncle James married--at Golden--on the twenty-first of
last month? Are you sure?"

"Aren't you? What did you think we found out?"

Cunningham's eyes narrowed. A film of caution spread over them. "Oh,
I don't know. You're so enterprising you might discover almost
anything. It's really a pity with your imagination that you don't go
into fiction."

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

"Let's table our cards, James," his cousin said. "You know now why
we're here."

"On the contrary, I'm more in the dark than ever."

Kirby was never given to useless movements of his limbs or body. He
had the gift of repose, of wonderful poise. Now not even his eyelashes
flickered.

"We want to know what you've done with Esther McLean."

"But, my dear fellow, why should I do anything with her?"

"You know why as well as I do. Somehow you've persuaded her to go
somewhere and hide herself. You want her in your power, to force or
cajole her into a compromise of her right to Uncle James's estate. We
won't have it."

A satiric smile touched the face of Cunningham without warming it,
"That active imagination of yours again. You _do_ let it run