“They’d certainly arrest her,” Jack commented.  “From a lawyer’s point of view there’s every reason why they should.  Motive for the crime, sufficient; intention to force the victim to make reparation or punish him, declared openly; opportunity to commit it, confessed; presence on scene and eagerness to escape being seen there, admitted.  The case against her is stronger than the one against you.”  He offered this last with a smile decorously but not wholly concealed.

“Yet she couldn’t possibly have done it!” the cattleman replied.

“Couldn’t she?  I wonder.”  The Beau Brummel stroked his bit of mustache, with the hint of insolence his manner often suggested.

“Not possible,” said Lane forcefully.  “Uncle James was a big, two-fisted fighter.  No slip of a girl could have overpowered him an’ tied him.  It’s not within reason.”  He spoke urgently, though still in the low murmur both the cousins were using in order not to be overheard.

Jack put a neat, highly polished boot on the desk of the sergeant of police.  “Ever hear of a lady called Delilah?” he asked lightly.

“What about her?” In Kirby’s quiet eye there was a warning.

The man-about-town shrugged his well-tailored shoulders.  “They have a way, the ladies.  Guile, my son, is more potent than force.”

“Meaning?”

“Delilah chloroformed Samson’s suspicions before she sheared his locks.”

Kirby repressed an anger that he knew was worse than futile.  “It you knew Miss McLean you couldn’t misjudge her so.  She thinks an’ acts as straight as a man.”

“I don’t say she did it, old top.  I’m merely pointing out that it’s possible she did.  Point of fact your friend made a hit with me.  I’d say she’s a game little thoroughbred.”

“You an’ James will regard what she told you as confidential, of course.”

“Of course.  We’re of your mind, too, though I put her proposition to you.  Can’t see anything to be gained by airing her story unless it’s absolutely necessary on your account.  By the way, James wants me to tell you that he thinks you won’t have to spend another night at this delightful hotel the city keeps for its guests.  Bond has been practically agreed on.”

“Fine.  Your brother’s a brick.  We’re goin’ to run down this business, he an’ I, an’ drag the truth to light.”

A glitter of sardonic mockery shone out of the dark eyes of Cunningham.  “You’ll work together fine and Sherlock-Holmes this thing till it’s as clear as mud,” he predicted.

By the middle of the afternoon Kirby was free.  After he had talked over with James a plan of campaign, he called Rose up on the telephone and told her he would be right out to Cherokee Street.

She came to meet him in the stuffy parlor of the boarding-house with hand outstretched.

“Oh, Kirby, I’m so glad to see you and so sorry I was such a horrid little beast last time we met.  I’m ashamed of myself.  My temper explodes so—­and after you came to Denver to help me and gave up so much for me.  You’ll forgive me, won’t you?”