shut. Kirby was left
standing alone.

CHAPTER V

COUSINS MEET

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

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

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

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

As he hung up the receiver the man rose, brisk and smiling, hand
outstretched. "Glad to meet you, Cousin Kirby. When did you reach
town? And how long are you going to stay?"

"Got in hour an' a half ago. How are you, James?"

"Busy, but not too busy to meet old friends. Let me see. I haven't
seen you since you were ten years old, have I?"

"I was about twelve. It was when my father moved to Wyoming."

"Well, I'm glad to see you. Where you staying? Eat lunch with me
to-morrow, can't you? I'll try to get Jack too."

"Suits me fine," agreed Kirby.

"Anything I can do for you in the meantime?"

"Yes. I want to see Uncle James."

There was a film of wariness in the eyes of the oil broker as he looked
at the straight, clean-built young cattleman. He knew that the strong
face, brown as Wyoming, expressed a pungent personality back of which
was dynamic force. What did Lane want with his uncle? They had
quarreled. His cousin knew that. Did young Lane expect him to back
his side of the quarrel? Or did he want to win back favor with James
Cunningham, Senior, millionaire?

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

The interest in Cunningham's eyes quickened. He laughed. "Aren't you
in bad enough already with Uncle? Why another quarrel?"

"This isn't on my own account. There's a girl in his office--"

A rap on the door interrupted Kirby. A young man walked into the room.
He was a good-looking young exquisite, dark-eyed and black-haired. His
clothes had been made by one of the best tailors in New York.
Moreover, he kn