en with me?"

She nodded, eagerly. "Oh, I do, Kirby! I believe we'll find out
something there. Shall we go by the interurban?"

"As soon as we're through lunch."

They walked across along Arapahoe Street to the loop and took a Golden
car. It carried them by the viaduct over the Platte River and through
the North Side into the country. They rushed past truck farms and
apple orchards into the rolling fields beyond, where the crops had been
harvested and the land lay in the mellow bath of a summer sun. They
swung round Table Mountain into the little town huddled at the foot of
Lookout.

From the terminus of the line they walked up the steep hill to the
court-house. An automobile, new and of an expensive make, was standing
by the curb. Just as Kirby and Rose reached the machine a young man
ran down the steps of the court-house and stepped into the car. The
man was Jack Cunningham. He took the driver's seat. Beside him was a
veiled young woman in a leather motoring-coat. In spite of the veil
Lane recognized her as Phyllis Harriman.

Cunningham caught sight of his cousin and anger flushed his face.
Without a word he reached for the starter, threw in the clutch, and
gave the engine gas.

The rough rider watched the car move down the hill. "I've made a
mistake," he told his companion. "I told James I was comin' here
to-day. He let Jack know, an' he's beat us to it."

"What harm will that do?" asked Rose. "The information will be there
for us, too, won't it?"

"Mebbe it will. Mebbe it won't. We'll soon find out."

Rose caught her friend's arm as they were passing through the hall.
"Kirby, do you suppose your cousins really know Esther was married to
your uncle? Do you think they can be trying to keep it quiet so she
can't claim the estate?"

He stopped in his stride. James had deprecated the idea of his coming
to Golden and had ridiculed the possibility of his unearthing any
information of value. Yet he must have called up Jack as soon as he
had left the office. And Jack had hurried to the town within the hour.
It might be that. Rose had hit on the reason for the hostility he felt
on the part of both cousins to his activities. There was something
they did not want brought to the light of day. What more potent reason
could there be for concealment than their desire to keep the fortune of
the millionaire in their own hands?

"I shouldn't wonder if you haven't rung the bull's-eye, pardner," he