k of the young life she loved so much.

Her pupils dilated. The words of the headline penetrated to the brain.
A hand clutched at her heart. She read again hazily--

JAMES CUNNINGHAM MURDERED

--then collapsed fainting into a chair.

CHAPTER X

KIRBY ASKS A DIRECT QUESTION

The story of the Cunningham mystery, as it was already being called,
filled the early editions of the afternoon papers. The "Times" had the
scoop of the day. It was a story signed by Chuck Ellis, who had seen
the alleged murderer climb down by a fire escape from the window of
Cunningham's bedroom and had actually talked with the man as he emerged
from the alley. His description of the suspect tallied fairly closely
with that of Mrs. Hull, but it corrected errors in regard to weight,
age, and color of clothes.

As Kirby walked to the Equitable Building to keep his appointment with
his cousins, it would not have surprised him if at any moment an
officer had touched him on the shoulder and told him he was under
arrest.

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

James spoke quickly, to bridge any embarrassment. "This is a dreadful
thing about Uncle James. I've never been so shocked before in my life.
The crime was absolutely fiendish."

Kirby nodded. "Or else the deed of some insane person. Men in their
right senses don't do such things."

"No," agreed James. "Murder's one thing. Such coldblooded deviltry is
quite another. There may be insanity connected with it. But one thing
is sure. I'll not rest till the villain's run to earth and punished."

His eyes met those of his cousin. They were cold and bleak.

"Do you think I did it?" asked Kirby quietly.

The directness of the question took James aback. After the fraction of
a second's hesitation he spoke. "If I did I wouldn't be going to lunch
with you."

Jack cut in. Excitement had banished his usual almost insolent
indolence. His dark eyes burned with a consuming fire. "Let's put our
cards on the table. We think you're the man the police are looking
for--the one described in the papers."

"What makes you think that?"

"You told us you were going to see him as soon as he got back from the
Springs. The description fits you to a T. You can't get away with an
alibi so far as I'm concerned