THE LAWYER AGAIN
Before I could retort the front door-bell rang sharply. Turning quickly
McKelvie walked to the safe and silently locked it. Then he spoke to
Jenkins with his usual assured manner. "Tell Mason to answer the bell.
And I sha'n't need you again to-day."
"Very well, sir."
As Jenkins opened the door and went out McKelvie dropped into a chair
beside me.
"I wonder who that can be," he murmured, "but whoever it may be, not one
sign, not one word of what we have learned."
I nodded comprehendingly, and in the pause that ensued I heard Mason
shuffle to the door and fumble with the lock. Then a man's voice
inquired for me. I heard an answering murmur and rose, turning toward
the open study door just as Mr. Cunningham crossed the threshold.
"Mr. Davies," he said, with a smile, extending his hand. He had
recovered his voice since the inquest and spoke in a rich baritone.
I gave him my hand, but not over-cordially as I said, suspiciously, "How
did you know I was here?"
He laughed, not at all put out. "I called at your apartments to give you
some information, and Mr. Trenton kindly told me where I could find you.
He also explained your mission. A very laudable purpose. Mr. McKelvie,
I presume?" turning toward my companion.
"I beg your pardon," I said stiffly, for I was ashamed of my unjust
suspicion, which had its inception in the fact that he was the dead
man's lawyer, and as such prejudiced against Ruth, and introduced the
two men.
McKelvie, who had also risen at the lawyer's entrance, and who was
standing with his hands behind his back, affected not to see
Cunningham's extended hand and merely nodded. Annoyed at his incivility,
and seeing that Cunningham frowned angrily, I hastened to make the
peace.
"Mr. McKelvie put me out of his house when I first called on him," I
remarked to Cunningham with a laugh. "You may consider yourself highly
honored to have received a bow."
The frown melted from Cunningham's brow as he said, pleasantly enough,
"I understand. The idiosyncrasies of the great must be indulgently
overlooked," and he returned McKelvie's nod with a ceremonious bow.
"You have some information to impart?" broke in McKelvie briskly as we
seated ourselves.
"Yes. I have discovered something that I thought might help toward
freeing Mrs. Darwin. You remember," turning to me, "that I testified
that Philip Darwin had removed his securities from my office. I learned
yesterday that he had used them as I thought upon the market. There was
a slump in the stock he was operating the afternoon of the seventh of
this month and as far as I can make out he was completely ruined."
"Ruined!" I repeated, for I could recall no rumor to that effect on the
Street that day. "You are sure?"
"Positive. He was completely, absolutely ruined," returned the lawyer.
He looked at me thoughtfully a moment and then added, "You were
wondering why, being a broker yourself, you had not heard of it? The
explanation is simple. The world has believed Philip Darwin immensely
wealthy for so many years that the truth concerning his financial
affairs would have been a decided shock to his friends and associates.
Naturally, though he lost heavily on the market on the seventh, no one
suspected that he was wiped out, and so nothing was thought of the
occurrence, for he had lost as heavily before without its making any
appreciable difference to him."
"I understand. And, of course he knew that he was ruined?" I continued.
"He must have known it."
"Then why was he troubling himself to make a new will?" I said,
perplexed.
Cunningham shook his head. "I never pretended to understand him. But I
thought my information might help along this line. If he had no money
Mrs. Darwin certainly didn't murder him to inherit his fortune."
"She may not have known that he was beggared," I retorted.
"Humph! If she swore she did know that fact, who could contradict her?"
and he smiled blandly.
"Are you a criminal lawyer, Mr. Cunningham?" queried McKelvie suddenly.
He had arisen again when Cunningham began to talk and had been pacing
the room in apparent indifference to our conversation.
"No, I am not," answered the lawyer promptly, just a little surprised.
"What an infinite pity! You would make a great success in that line I am
sure," responded McKelvie, and in his flexible voice I again detected
traces of irony.
Cunningham looked at McKelvie undecided whether to take the remark as an
insult or a compliment, and I saw McKelvie's lip curl just a trifle
before he continued suavely, "I meant it, Mr. Cunningham. You would make
a great criminal lawyer. I advise you to try your hand at that branch of
the profession."
Cunningham laughed. "Thanks, but I'm too old a dog to learn new tricks.
Besides, I am planning to take a little vacation presently. I expect to
travel for the next few years, but I do not mean to intrude my own
uninteresting affairs upon you. You have no time to waste in this case.
Have you discovered anything of value so far?" he continued with
friendly interest.
McKelvie shook his head and sighed. "I am afraid so far it is a losing
game," he said with an air of great candor. "The trouble is, as I
explained to Mr. Davies, that the scent is cold. The clues are in the
hands of the police. Ah, if only I could have been here from the first!"
"It is a pity. They say you are a great detective. I should hate to see
you defeated," answered the lawyer, giving McKelvie a Roland for his
Oliver.
McKelvie laughed--a short, hard laugh.
"Don't fool yourself, Mr. Cunningham. I am not going to be defeated," he
said tersely. "No, not even if the criminal is the cleverest fellow
living."
"Pride goeth before destruction, Mr. McKelvie. By this time the criminal
has doubtless betaken himself to other parts," returned the lawyer,
sardonically.
"The world is small, and I am going to get him if it takes me the rest
of my life." McKelvie's jaw snapped with grim determination.
The lawyer rose. "I must be going. Good-by, Mr. Davies. Farewell, Mr.
McKelvie. Long life to you, sir."
"Damn his impudence," said McKelvie as the front door slammed, "but he's
right. I have no time to waste. I'll call you up in the morning if I
have news, and in the meantime say nothing to anyone of our
discoveries."
"Not even Mr. Trenton?"
"Not even Mr. Trenton. I'm trusting no one but you and--Jenkins. Also, I
do not want that meddlesome old lawyer hanging around when I want to
work. Good-by."
"Just a moment. How does what Cunningham told us affect the case as it
now stands?"
"Not a hair's breadth. I told you before there was more than enough
evidence against her. And I'm hanged if I don't believe he knew it,
too!"