"Five thousand dollars if I use it; five hundred if I don't."
"Suppose Jennings turns up with those letters. There's a penalty for
that, isn't there?"
"We'll take good care that Jennings doesn't turn up," Levy assured him,
"and we would be taking all the risk."
It was Buckner's turn to become absorbed, and this time it was Levy who
refilled his glass.
"It would be a lot of money," he muttered to himself, as he nervously
gulped the brandy down, "and it would hit her hard. Go ahead, Levy. Draw
up your damned paper and I'll sign it. Never knew I was so popular,
anyhow."
Levy left him for a few moments while he dictated the affidavit,
returning to his private office while the stenographer was writing out
her notes.
"I don't suppose you know anything about the personal affairs of Mrs.
Buckner-Gorham which would be of assistance to us in this case, do you?"
Buckner thought hard. Ideas came slowly to him in his present condition,
but at last he looked up with an expression which interested the lawyer.
"She thought herself too good for me," he muttered, "but there is
something I should like to have her explain," he said.
"And what is that?" Levy asked, quickly jumping at a possible clew.
"After she found me in the trail she disappeared for two weeks before
she returned to her father's ranch, and I should like to know where she
spent that time."
"Where do you think she spent it?"
"I don't know for sure, but there are people who say she was with a
prospector in his shack four or five miles from my ranch. I didn't hear
about it until afterward; but, anyhow, there was a man rode back with
her to her father's ranch who got her into the hospital in Denver after
she found her father was dead. She thinks she's better than I am, but,
just the same, I'd like to know who that man was."
Levy quickly made a few notes. "I think I may be able to assist you in
gratifying that desire," he remarked.
* * * * *
The next day after receiving the message, Covington again found himself
within Levy's dingy offices, and this time he experienced no delay in
being conducted to the sanctum in the rear, where he found the lawyer
ready to receive him with a genial smile and a cordiality which
expressed itself in the briskness with which he rubbed his hands
together.
"I think you will be well pleased with the rapid progress of our
investigations," Levy began.
"I judged so by your letter." Covington was noncommittal.
"There will be no difficulty in having the divorce decree granted to
Mrs. Buckner--now Mrs. Gorham--set aside whenever you say the word. Here
is the affidavit of Buckner himself, and the fellow is not only willing
but eager to push the case through."
Covington took the document in his hand and examined it carefully.
Then: "How would you undertake to do it?" he asked.
"It is a principle of our firm not to discuss methods with our clients.
Results are what count, and our reputation for securing these is perhaps
a sufficient guarantee that my statement is based on facts."
"Your position is undoubtedly fully justified," Covington replied, a
slight expression of amusement showing in his face. "We hardly need to
discuss that phase of it, however, as this is probably as far as I shall
ask you to go."
"Oh, Mr. Covington, you wouldn't drop a nice case like this, would you?"
Levy begged. "There is a lot of money in it for both of us."
Covington answered him, coldly: "I believe the terms of our business
arrangement were clearly understood at the beginning."
"Yes, but it is such a nice case," Levy still pleaded. "You need not
appear in it at all if you don't want to. Mr. Buckner can become the
plaintiff, and it need not cost you anything. We can make Mr. Gorham pay
all the bills."
"That's enough of that," was the sharp reply. "Now, what was it that you
found out about Mrs. Gorham's early history?"
Levy accepted the inevitable with equanimity, contenting himself with a
gesture which expressed more than words.
"I have learned that after her child's death Mrs. Gorham, then Mrs.
Buckner, disappeared for a period of two weeks, during which time she is
alleged to have lived in a prospector's shack alone with him. Do you
catch the significance?"
Covington again held out his hand, taking the second affidavit, which
he scrutinized with the same care he gave the first.
"This is merely the unconfirmed statement of a prejudiced party," he
remarked; "it is of no value unless you could prove it."
Levy smiled. "My dear Mr. Covington, we can prove anything--that is our
business."
"Well"--Covington rose--"you seem to have carried out your end of the
affair." He drew a roll of bills from his pocket. "Here is the balance
due you. If I decide to make use of these documents, I will see you
again and make a trade. Kindly give me an acknowledgment of my payment."
Levy held up a hand protestingly. "I explained before that we never give
receipts--"
"Oh, yes; it had slipped my mind," Covington acquiesced.
"I hope to see you again soon, Mr. Covington," Levy said in parting. "It
is a nice case, such a nice case."
The departing client gave no evidence that he heard the words, but after
pushing his way to the street he drew a long breath, which might have
indicated relief after sitting in the close office, or satisfaction that
he held in his possession new weapons which could easily be made useful
in case of need.