CHAPTER XXVIII
THE FINGER OF SUSPICION POINTS
The words of the preacher's little wife were like a bolt from a sunnyheaven. Kirby could not accept them without reiteration. Never in thewildest dreams of the too vivid imagination of which his cousin hadaccused him had this possibility occurred to him.
"Do you mean that this man--the younger one--is the husband of PhyllisHarriman?" His finger touched the reproduction of his cousin'sphotograph.
"Yes. He's the man my husband married her to on the twenty-first ofJuly."
"You're quite sure of that?"
"I ought to be," she answered rather dryly. "I was a witness."
A young woman came up the walk from the street. She was a younger andmore modern replica of Mrs. Rankin. The older lady introduced her.
"Daughter, this is Mr. Lane, the gentleman who called on Father theother day while we were away. Mr. Lane, my daughter Ellen." Brisklyshe continued, showing her daughter the picture of James Cunningham,Junior. "Did you ever see this man, dear?"
Ellen took one glance at it. "He's the man Father married the otherday."
"When?" the mother asked.
"It was--let me see--about the last week in July. Why?"
"Married to who?" asked Mrs. Rankin colloquially.
"To that lovely Miss Harriman, of course."
The old lady wheeled on Kirby triumphantly. "Are you satisfied nowthat I'm in my right mind?" she demanded smilingly.
"Have to ask your pardon if I was rude," he said, meeting her smile."But the fact is it was such a surprise I couldn't take it in."
"This gentleman is the nephew of the Mr. Cunningham who was killed. Hethought it was his uncle who had married Miss Harriman," the motherexplained to Ellen.
The girl turned to Kirby. "You know I've wondered about that myself.The society columns of the papers said it was the older Mr. Cunninghamthat was going to marry her. And I've seen, since your uncle's death,notices in the paper about his engagement to Miss Harriman. But Ithought it must have been a mistake, since it was the younger Mr.Cunningham she did marry. Maybe the reporters got the two mixed. Theydo sometimes get things wrong in the papers, you know."
This explanation was plausible, but Kirby happened to have insideinformation. He remembered the lovely photograph of the young woman inhis uncle's rooms and the "Always, Phyllis" written across the lowerpart of it. He recalled the evasive comments of both James and hisbrother whenever any reference had been made to the relation betweenMiss Harriman and their uncle. No, Phyllis Harriman had been engagedto marry James Cunningham, Senior. He was sure enough of that. Inpoint of fact he had seen at the district attorney's office a letterwritten by her to the older man, a letter which acknowledged that theywere to be married in October. It had been one of a dozen papersturned over to the prosecutor's office for examination. Then she hadjilted the land promoter for his nephew.
Did his uncle know of the marriage of his nephew? That was somethingKirby meant to find out if he could. The news he had just heard lit upavenues of thought as a searchlight throws a shaft into the darkness.It brought a new factor into the problem at which he was working.Roughly speaking, the cattleman knew his uncle, the habits of mind thatguided him, the savage and relentless passions that swayed him. If theold man knew his favorite nephew and his fiancee had made a mock ofhim, he would move swiftly to a revenge that would hurt. The firstimpulse of his mind would be to strike James from his will.
And even if his uncle had not yet discovered the secret marriage, hewould soon have done so. It could not have been much longer concealed.This thing was as sure as any contingency in human life can be: _ifCunningham had lived, his nephew James would never have inherited acent of his millions. The older man had died in the nick of time forJames_.
Already Kirby had heard a hint to this effect. It had been at arestaurant much affected by the business men of the city during thelunch hour. Two men had been passing his table on their way out. One,lowering his voice, had said to the other: "James Cunningham ought togive a medal to the fellow that shot his uncle. Didn't come a day toosoon for him. Between you and me, J. C. has been speculating heavy andhas been hit hard. He was about due to throw up the sponge. Luck forhim, I'll say."
It was on the way back from Golden, while he was being rushed throughthe golden fields of summer, that suspicion of his cousin hit Kirbylike a blow in the face. Facts began to marshal themselves in hismind, an irresistible phalanx of them. James was the only man, excepthis brother, who benefited greatly by the death of his uncle. Not onlywas this true; the land promoter had to die _soon_ to help James, justhow soon Kirby meant to find out. Phyllis and a companion had been inthe victim's apartment either at the time of his death or immediatelyafterward. That companion _might have been James and not Jack_. Jameshad lost the sheets with the writing left by the Japanese valetHorikawa. The rage he had vented on his clerk might easily have been ablind. When James knew he was going to Golden to look up the marriageregister, he had at once tried to forestall him by destroying theinformation.
Kirby tried to fight off his suspicions. He wanted to believe in hiscousin. In his own way he had been kind to him. He had gone on hisbond to keep him out of prison after he had tried to conceal the factof his existence at the coroner's inquest. But doubts began to gnaw atthe Wyoming man's confidence in him. Had James befriended him merelyto be in a position to keep closer tab on anything he discovered? Hadhe wanted to be close enough to throw him off the track with the wrongsuggestions?
The young cattleman was ashamed of himself for his doubts. But hecould not down them. His discovery of the marriage changed thesituation. It put his cousin James definitely into the list of thesuspects.
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 thatgentleman. "Now I want to ask you a question."
The lawyer looked at him, smiling warily. Both of the JamesCunninghams 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 askyou if you know whether my uncle knew that James and Miss Harriman weremarried."
Foster looked out of the window and drummed with his finger-tips on thedesk. "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 thetwenty-first--two days before his death. I told him--after dinner atthe City Club."
"You had just found it out yourself?"
"That afternoon."
"How did you decide that the James Cunningham mentioned in the licenseyou saw was the younger one?"
"By the age given."
"How did my uncle take the news when you told him?"
"He took it standing," the lawyer said. "Didn't make any fuss, butlooked like the Day of Judgment for the man who had betrayed him."
"What did he do?"
"Wrote a note and called for a messenger to deliver it."
"Who to?" Kirby asked colloquially.
"I don't know. Probably the company has a record of all calls. If so,you can find the boy who delivered the message."
"I'll get busy right away."
Foster hesitated, then volunteered another piece of information. "Idon't suppose you know that your uncle sent for me next day and told meto draft a new will for him and get it ready for his signature."
"Did you do it?"
"Yes. I handed it to him the afternoon of the day he was killed. Itwas found unsigned among his papers after his death. The old willstill stands."
"Leaving the property to James and Jack?"
"Yes."
"And the new will?"
"Except for some bequests and ten thousand for a fountain at the citypark, the whole fortune was to go
to Jack."
"So that if he had lived twenty-four hours longer James would have beendisinherited."
Foster looked at him out of eyes that told nothing of what he wasthinking. "That's the situation exactly."
Kirby made no further comment, nor did the lawyer.
Within two hours the man from Twin Buttes had talked with the messengerboy, refreshed his memory with a tip, and learned that the messageCunningham had sent from the City Club had been addressed to his nephewJack.