It was on the way back from Golden, while he was being rushed through the golden fields of summer, that suspicion of his cousin hit Kirby like a blow in the face.  Facts began to marshal themselves in his mind, an irresistible phalanx of them.  James was the only man, except his brother, who benefited greatly by the death of his uncle.  Not only was this true; the land promoter had to die soon to help James, just how soon Kirby meant to find out.  Phyllis and a companion had been in the victim’s apartment either at the time of his death or immediately afterward.  That companion might have been James and not Jack.  James had lost the sheets with the writing left by the Japanese valet Horikawa.  The rage he had vented on his clerk might easily have been a blind.  When James knew he was going to Golden to look up the marriage register, he had at once tried to forestall him by destroying the information.

Kirby tried to fight off his suspicions.  He wanted to believe in his cousin.  In his own way he had been kind to him.  He had gone on his bond to keep him out of prison after he had tried to conceal the fact of his existence at the coroner’s inquest.  But doubts began to gnaw at the Wyoming man’s confidence in him.  Had James befriended him merely to be in a position to keep closer tab on anything he discovered?  Had he wanted to be close enough to throw him off the track with the wrong suggestions?

The young cattleman was ashamed of himself for his doubts.  But he could not down them.  His discovery of the marriage changed the situation.  It put his cousin James definitely into the list of the suspects.

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 that gentleman.  “Now I want to ask you a question.”

The lawyer looked at him, smiling warily.  Both of the James Cunninghams 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 ask you if you know whether my uncle knew that James and Miss Harriman were married.”

Foster looked out of the window and drummed with his finger-tips on the desk.  “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 the twenty-first—­two days before his death.  I told him—­after dinner at the City Club.”

“You had just found it out yourself?”

“That afternoon.”

“How did you decide that the James Cunningham mentioned in the license you 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, but looked like the Day of Judgment for the man who had betrayed him.”