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"One of my various cards, rather." He extended it, adding, "I thought I'd run in and bring you a handful of cigars. You must be in sad need of them, eh?" The card explained that its owner was Mr. Edward Kinsell. The name meant nothing to Shandon and he said so bluntly. "To be sure," acknowledged Mr. Kinsell.
A hundred little things that had been trifles at the time came back to him now to whisper that Kinsell had known a long time. And Helga had given them the rest of the evidence they lacked. Helga, a woman, had tricked him, had deceived him, had made him love her in the only way love was possible to this man, and then had laughed at him and doublecrossed him.
Early in January there arrived in El Toyon a gentleman with a scrubbing brush moustache, a pleasant, portly personality, a pair of twinkling black eyes, a seemingly limitless amount of leisure, discriminating taste for liquors and cigars, a fountain pen and a check book. The name he wrote upon the hotel register was Edward Kinsell.
The note, dated several months earlier, simply stated that Edward Kinsell could be depended upon to do all that any man could in the matter of gathering up the evidence he was being paid by Shandon to get. Shandon's eyes, suddenly bright, an eager note in his voice, he shot out his hand warmly, and cried, "You have found something?" "My dear Mr.
Shandon," smiled Kinsell, "I have found out so many things that it's a wonder I don't have a continual headache. You'll pardon my not having called upon you sooner? I have really been so busy " "You knew where to find me all the time?" incredulously. Kinsell nodded and smiled approvingly as Wayne lighted a cigar. "Of course.
I didn't know that you were at work even, I don't know a thing that has happened, that is happening." "And quite naturally you are interested? Just so." Kinsell very carefully placed the finger tips of one hand against those of the other, apparently giving his whole attention to the action. "Let me see.
Hume," returned the old man heavily, "I'm glad you came, for I was coming to you. Shandon is going clear. I've talked with his lawyer, I've talked with Kinsell " "What's Kinsell got to do with it?" "Kinsell is a detective sent up here by Brisbane to work up the case. Also, I have talked with Wayne Shandon." This came slowly, with an evident effort, but it came calmly.
"Assuming," went on Kinsell, "that it was Hume and not yourself who made that deposit at the Reno bank, don't you see that as things stand he has piled up a pretty piece of evidence against you? You might have done just that thing, deposited the money while the train waited, became alarmed at something, and gone back for it.
"Good heaven!" cried Shandon angrily. "You mean that Hume and Leland are actually trying to steal my water?" "I don't think Leland is in on this," replied Kinsell quietly. "He doesn't seem to me to be quite the crook Hume is." "But," muttered Shandon, "if they once tear the side of that mountain out " "The milk will be spilt so badly that it cannot be put back into the pan?
That looked all right, didn't it? But then you told Brisbane that Helga Strawn told you that Hume had paid her twenty-five thousand. Eh?" "Yes," Shandon returned. "Have you asked her?" Kinsell laughed softly. "I don't do business that way. Usually in this sort of a game if you want to catch nice fat lies fish with question marks for hooks.
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