fields of summer, that suspicion of his cousin hit Kirby
like a blow in the face. Facts began to marshal themselves in his
mind, an irresistible phalanx of them. James was the only man, except
his brother, who benefited greatly by the death of his uncle. Not only
was this true; the land promoter had to die _soon_ to help James, just
how soon Kirby meant to find out. Phyllis and a companion had been in
the victim's apartment either at the time of his death or immediately
afterward. That companion _might have been James and not Jack_. James
had lost the sheets with the writing left by the Japanese valet
Horikawa. The rage he had vented on his clerk might easily have been a
blind. When James knew he was going to Golden to look up the marriage
register, he had at once tried to forestall him by destroying the
information.

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

The young cattleman was ashamed of himself for his doubts. But he
could not down them. His discovery of the marriage changed the
situation. It put his cousin James definitely into the list of the
suspects.

As soon as he reached town he called at the law offices of Irwin,
Foster & Warren. The member of the firm he wanted to see was in.

"I've been to Golden, Mr. Foster," he said, when he was alone with that
gentleman. "Now I want to ask you a question."

The lawyer looked at him, smiling warily. Both of the James
Cunninghams had been clients of his.

"I make my living giving legal advice," he said.

"I don't want legal advice just now," Kirby answered. "I want to ask
you if you know whether my uncle knew that James and Miss Harriman were
married."

Foster looked out of the window and drummed with his finger-tips on the
desk. "Yes," he said at last.

"He knew?"

"Yes."

"Do you know when he found out?"

"I can answer that, too. He found out on the evening of the
twenty-first--two days before his death. I told him--after dinner at
the City Club."

"You had just found it out