Tangled Trails | Page 9

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 knew how to wear them.
James Cunningham, Junior, introduced him to Kirby as his cousin Jack.
After a few moments of talk the broker reverted to the subject of their
previous talk.
"Kirby was just telling me that he has come to Denver to meet Uncle
James," he explained to his brother. "Some difficulty with him, I
understand."
Jack Cunningham's black eyes fastened on his cousin. He waited for
further information. It was plain he was interested.
"I'm not quite sure of my facts," Lane said. "But there's evidence to
show that he has ruined a young girl in his office. She practically
admits that he's the man. I happen to be a friend of her family, an' I'm
goin' to call him to account. He can't get away with it."
Kirby chanced to be looking at his cousin Jack. What he saw in that
young man's eyes surprised him. There were astonishment, incredulity,
and finally a cunning narrowing of the black pupils.
It was James who spoke. His face was grave. "That's a serious charge,
Kirby," he said. "What is the name of the young woman?"
"I'd rather not give it--except to Uncle James himself."
"Better write it," suggested Jack with a reminiscent laugh. "He's a bit
impetuous. I saw him throw a man down the stairs yesterday. Picked
the fellow up at the foot of the flight. He certainly looked as though
he'd like to murder our dear uncle."
"What I'd like to know is this," said Lane. "What sort of a reputation
has Uncle James in this way? Have you ever heard of his bein' in
anything of this sort before?"

"No, I haven't," James said promptly.
Jack shrugged. "I wouldn't pick nunky for exactly a moral man," he
said flippantly. "His idea of living is to grab all the easy things he can."
"Where can I see him most easily? At his office?" asked Kirby.
"He drove down to Colorado Springs to-day on business. At least he
told me he was going. Don't know whether he expects to get back
to-night or not. He lives at the Paradox Apartments," Jack said.
"Prob'ly I'd better see him there rather than at his office."
"Hope you have a pleasant time with the old boy," Jack murmured.
"Don't think I'd care to be a champion of dames where he's concerned.
He's a damned cantankerous old brute. I'll say that for him."
James arranged a place of meeting for luncheon next day. The young
cattleman left. He knew from the fidgety manner of Jack that he had
some important business he was anxious to talk over with his brother.
CHAPTER VI
LIGHTS OUT
It was five minutes to ten by his watch when Kirby entered the Paradox
Apartments. The bulletin board told him that his uncle's apartment was
12. He did not take the self-serve elevator, but the stairs. The hall on
the second floor was dark. Since he did not know whether the rooms he
wanted were on this floor or the next he knocked at a door.
Kirby thought he heard the whisper of voices and he knocked again. He
had to rap a third time before the door was opened.
"What is it? What do you want?"
If ever Lane had seen stark, naked fear in a human face, it stared at him
out of that of the woman in front of him. She was a tall, angular woman

of a harsh, forbidding countenance, flat-breasted and middle-aged.
Behind her, farther back in the room, the roughrider caught a glimpse
of a fat, gross, ashen-faced man fleeing toward the inner door of a
bedroom to escape being seen. He was thrusting into his coat pocket
what looked to the man in the hall like a revolver.
"Can you tell me where James Cunningham's apartment is?" asked
Kirby.
The woman gasped. The hand on the doorknob was trembling violently.
Something clicked in her throat