"If we could be sure she's all right. But we can't." Rose turned on him a wistful face, twisted by emotion. "I want to find her, Kirby. I'm her sister. She's all I've got. Can't you do something?" "I'll try." She noticed the hardening of the lean jaw, the tightening of the muscles as the back teeth clenched. "Don't--don't do anything--rash," she begged. Her hand rested lightly on his arm. Their eyes met. He smiled grimly. "Don't worry. Mebbe I'll call you up later tonight and report progress." He walked to the nearest drug-store and used the telephone freely. At the end of fifteen minutes he stepped out of the booth. His cousin Jack was doing some evening work at the offices where he was now in charge of settling up his uncle's affairs. Kirby found him there. A man stenographer was putting on his coat to leave, but Jack was still at his desk. He looked up, annoyed. "Was that you telephoned me?" he asked. "Yes." "I told you I'd let you know when I wanted to see you." "So you did. But you didn't let me know. The shoe's on the other foot now. I want to see you." "I'm not interested in anything you have to say." The stenographer had gone. Kirby could hear his footsteps echoing down the corridor. He threw the catch of the lock and closed the door. "I can promise to keep you interested," he said, very quietly. Jack rose. He wore white shoes, duck trousers, a white pique shirt, and a blue serge coat that fitted his graceful figure perfectly. "What did you do that for?" he demanded. "Open that door!" "Not just yet, Jack. I've come for a settlement. It's up to you to say what kind of a one it'll be." Cunningham's dark eyes glittered. He was no physical coward. Moreover, he was a trained athlete, not long out of college. He had been the middle-weight champion boxer of the university. If this tough brown cousin wanted a set-to, he would not have to ask twice for it. "Suits me fine," he said. "What's your proposition?" "I've been a blind idiot. Didn't see what was right before my eyes. I reckon you've had some laughs at me. Well, I hope you enjoyed 'em. There aren't any more grins comin' to you." Kirby spoke coldly, implacably, his voice grating like steel on steel. "Meaning, in plain English?" "That you've let a dead man's shoulders carry your sins. You heard us blame Uncle James for Esther McLean's trouble. An' you never said a word to set us right. Yet you're the man, you damned scoundrel!" Jack went white to the lips, then flushed angrily. "You can't ever mind your own business, can you?" "I want just two things from you. The first is, to know where you've taken her; the second, to tell you that you're goin' to make this right an' see that you do it." "When you talk to me like that I've nothing to say. No man living can bully me." "You won't come through. Is that it?" "You may go to the devil for all of me." Their stormy eyes clashed.