while?"

Buckner boldly placed the cigar between his lips and straightened up.

"What's the game?" he asked. "Tell me what's up, and perhaps we can make
a trade."

"I have a client who might like to see that divorce decree set aside,"
Levy began.

"Another friend of mine, eh?" Buckner laughed at his own joke. "Never
knew before I was so popular." The brandy was getting in its work.
"Every one is interested in my marriage troubles, and here's one wants
to give me back my wife!"

"Never mind that," Levy stopped him. "This client of mine isn't
interested in you or in your wife, but he evidently has a private spite
against Gorham, who married her. He may not care to push it, but, if he
does, do you see what the game is?"

"Sure I do, sure I do," Buckner answered, thickly. "Damned good
game--I'll play it with you. It would hit her hard, too, wouldn't it?"

"What do you care if it does?"

"I don't care--glad of it--that's the special reason why I'm willing to
play the game."

"All right; we'll get down to business. I'm going to draw up an
affidavit that, as far as the divorce proceedings are concerned, you
never retained any lawyer, and never were served with a summons, either
in Colorado Springs or anywhere else; that you never knew of the pending
of the action, nor that this suit was to be brought to trial. And you
are to swear to this, do you understand?"

Buckner whistled suggestively. "What's the financial proposition?"

"Five thousand dollars if I use it; five hundred if I don't."

"Suppose Jennings turns up with those letters. There's a penalty for
that, isn't there?"

"We'll take good care that Jennings doesn't turn up," Levy assured him,
"and we would be taking all the risk."

It was Buckner's turn to become absorbed, and this time it was Levy who
refilled his glass.

"It would be a lot of money," he muttered to himself, as he nervously
gulped the brandy down, "and it would hit her hard. Go ahead, Levy. Draw
up your damned paper and I'll sign it. Never knew I was so popular,
anyhow."

Levy left him for a few moments while he dictated the affidavit,
returning to his private office while the stenographer was writing out
her notes.

"I don't suppose you know anything about the personal affairs of Mrs.
Buckner-Gorham which would be of assistance to us in this case, do you?"

Buckner thought hard. Ideas came slowly to him in his present condition,
but at last he looked up with an expression which