Tangled Trails Part 36

"Just as they're goin' to whisper about Rose McLean if I don't clear things up. No, Jack. You've got the wrong idea. What we want to do is for us all to jump in an' find the man who did it. Then all gossip against us stops."

"That's easy to say. How're you going to find the guilty man?" asked Jack sulkily.

"If you'd tell what you know we'd find him fast enough. How can I get to the bottom of the thing when you an' James won't give me the facts?"

Jack looked across at him doggedly. "I've told all I'm going to tell."

The long, lithe body of the man from the Wyoming hills leaned forward ever so slightly. "Don't you think it! Don't you think it for a minute! You'll come clean whether you want to or not--or I'll put that rope you mentioned round your brother's throat."

Jack looked at this man with the nerves of chilled steel and s.h.i.+vered.

What could he do against a single-track mind with such driving force back of it? Had Kirby got anything of importance on James? Or was he bluffing?

"Talk 's cheap," he sneered uneasily.

"You'll find how cheap it is. James had been speculatin'. He was down an' out. Another week, an' he'd have been a bankrupt. Uncle discovers how he's been tricked by him an' Miss Harriman. He serves notice that he's cuttin' James out of his will an' he sends for a lawyer to draw up a new one. James an' his wife go to the old man's rooms to beg off.

There's a quarrel, maybe. Anyhow, this point sticks up like a sore thumb: if uncle hadn't died that night your brother would 'a' been a beggar. Now he's a millionaire. And James was in his room the very hour in which he was killed."

"You can't prove that!" Jack cried, his voice low and hoa.r.s.e. "How do you know he was there? What evidence have you?"

Kirby smiled, easily and confidently. "The evidence will be produced at the right time." He rose and turned to go.

Jack also got up, white to the lips. "Hold on! Don't--don't do anything in a hurry! I'll--talk with you to-morrow--here--in the forenoon. Or say in a day or two. I'll let you know then."

His cousin nodded grimly.

The hard look pa.s.sed from his eyes as he reached the corridor. "Had to throw a scare into him to make him come through," he murmured in apology to himself.

CHAPTER x.x.x

KIRBY MAKES A CALL

Kirby had been bluffing when he said he had evidence to prove that James was in his uncle's rooms the very hour of the murder. But he was now convinced that he had told the truth. James had been there, and his brother Jack knew it. The confession had been written in his shocked face when Kirby flung out the charge.

But James might have been there and still be innocent, just as was the case with him and Rose. The cattleman wanted to find the murderer, but he wanted almost as much to find that James had nothing to do with the crime. He eliminated Jack, except perhaps as an accessory after the fact. Jack had a telltale face, but he might be cognizant of guilt without being deeply a party to it. He could be insolent, but faults of manner are not a crime. Besides, all Jack's interests lay in the other direction. If his uncle had lived a day longer, he would have been sole heir to the estate.

As he wandered through the streets Kirby's mind was busy with the problem. Automatically his legs carried him to the Paradox Apartments.

He found himself there before he even knew he had been heading in that direction. Mrs. Hull came out and pa.s.sed him. She was without a hat, and probably was going to the corner grocery on Fifteenth.

"I've been neglecting friend Hull," he murmured to himself. "I reckon I'll just drop in an' ask him how his health is."

He was not sorry that Mrs. Hull was out. She was easily, he judged, the dominant member of the firm. If he could catch the fat man alone he might gather something of importance.

Hull opened the door of the apartment to his knock. He stood glaring at the young man, his prominent eyes projecting, the red capillaries in his beefy face filling.

"Whadjawant?" he demanded.

"A few words with you, Mr. Hull." Kirby pushed past him into the room, much as an impudent agent does.

"Well, I don't aim to have no truck with you at all," bl.u.s.tered the fat man. "You've just naturally wore out yore welcome with me before ever you set down. I'll ask you to go right now."

"Here's your hat. What's your hurry?" murmured Kirby, by way of quotation. "Sure I'll go. But don't get on the prod, Hull. I came to make some remarks an' to ask a question. I'll not hurt you any.

Haven't got smallpox or anything."

"I don't want you here. If the police knew you was here, they'd be liable to think we was talkin' about--about what happened upstairs."

"Then they would be right. That's exactly what we're gonna talk about."

"No, sir! I ain't got a word to say--not a word!" The big man showed signs of panic.

"Then I'll say it." The dancing light died out of Kirby's eyes. They became hard and steady as agates. "Who killed Cunningham, Hull?"

The fishy eyes of the man dodged. A startled oath escaped him. "How do I know?"

"Didn't you kill him?"

"G.o.ddlemighty, no!" Hull dragged out the red bandanna and gave his apoplectic face first aid. He mopped perspiration from the overlapping roll of fat above his collar. "I dunno a thing about it. Honest, I don't. You got no right to talk to me thataway."

"You're a tub of iniquity, Hull. Also, you're a right poor liar. You know a lot about it. You were in my uncle's rooms just before I saw you on the night of his death. You were seen there."

"W-w-who says so?" quavered the wretched man.

"You'll know who at the proper time. I'll tell you one thing. It won't look good for you that you held out all you know till it was a showdown."

"I ain't holdin' out, I tell you. What business you got to come here devilin' me, I'd like for to know?"

"I'm not devilin' you. I'm tellin' you to come through with what you know, or you'll sure get in trouble. There's a witness against you.

When he tells what he saw--"

"s.h.i.+bo?" The word burst from the man's lips in spite of him.

Kirby did not bat a surprised eye. He went on quietly. "I'll not say who. Except this. s.h.i.+bo is not the only one who can tell enough to put you on trial for your life. If you didn't kill my uncle you'd better take my tip, Hull. Tell what you know. It'll be better for you."

Mrs. Hull stood in the doorway, thin and sinister. The eyes in her yellow face took in the cattleman and pa.s.sed to her husband. "What's _he_ doing here?" she asked, biting off her words sharply.

"I was askin' Mr. Hull if he knew who killed my uncle," explained Kirby.

Her eyes narrowed. "Maybe _you_ know," she retorted.

"Not yet. I'm tryin' to find out. Can you give me any help, Mrs.

Hull?"

Their eyes crossed and fought it out.

"What do you want to know?" she demanded.