The Lever Part 22

"You d.a.m.ned skunk!" he cried, "you've sold us out after promisin' not to, that's what you've done! But I'll get back at you if it costs me ten years in Sing Sing!"

Covington for a second time went directly from Brady's office to his own, but the former complacency was replaced by a vague apprehension. A threat from Brady was worthy of consideration. Among the personal mail which he found upon his desk was a plain envelope, which, for some unknown reason, attracted his attention enough to cause him to open it before the one which lay on top. The signature interested him even more, particularly at the present moment, with his thoughts filled with what had recently pa.s.sed. It is a precaution of the experienced mariner to inspect his lifeboats with especial care as he pa.s.ses by a dangerous reef. The letter read:

"_The divorce papers prove to be shockingly irregular, and there are developments in the early life. Please call at your convenience._"

Covington crushed the paper in his hand and turned toward his desk with a changed expression. He smiled as he looked forward into s.p.a.ce--the first smile which had lighted up his face for several days. Then he brought his clenched fist down hard on the desk for no apparent reason and muttered something to himself.

XV

As evidenced in the message received by Covington, Levy had not been neglectful of the case which had been intrusted to him by his new client. Without much difficulty Buckner was located in New Orleans, and identified as the proprietor of a low dive which had become the rendezvous for the most vicious outcasts of the city. Drink and debauchery had long since destroyed the physical advantages he had possessed over other men at the time of his marriage. The death of his child, to whom he had given as much affection as his nature possessed, the stern arraignment of the neighbor who helped him to his ranch and later brought him the tragic news, and the consciousness of his own responsibility in the accident, all combined to drive him almost immediately away from the scenes which reminded him of it; and as time pa.s.sed the bitterness turned to resentment against his wife. If she had not left the ranch that day, he argued to himself, the accident would never have happened. She had loathed him for months before the final separation, and he had resented the disgust which she made no effort to conceal. There had been enough manhood left in him then to feel it and to resent it.

When he first heard that she had inst.i.tuted divorce proceedings his anger returned, and he determined to hold her to the unwelcome bonds if for nothing else than to know that she still suffered; but a consultation with an attorney showed him the futility of any defence, so he simply held this up against her as another affront to be wiped out if the time ever came which gave him the opportunity.

But he had long since given up all hope that this time would ever come.

During the years which had elapsed he had drifted from one city to another, each time taking a stand a degree lower than the preceding. In New Orleans he had succeeded in getting a little better living than heretofore, so he had settled down there with the idea of making it a permanency.

It was a welcome break in the monotony for him to receive a call from Levy's agent, and the fact that the visitor felt inclined to provide liquid refreshment of a grade considerably higher than he had been able to indulge himself in for many years did not detract from his welcome.

As the evening wore on he was quite willing--almost eager--to tell the story of his life to this agreeable and sympathetic listener, so Levy had been materially a.s.sisted in the preliminary investigation of his case. Nor was the welcome any less cordial when the agent appeared for a second time, on this occasion offering Buckner five hundred dollars in exchange for his "time and trouble." He was given no intimation regarding the nature of his errand; he really had little curiosity. It was enough that it paid what was now to him a princely sum, and also guaranteed him an attractive experience at some one else's expense.

On his arrival Levy gave Buckner a welcome which raised his self-esteem almost to the bursting-point. A box of costly cigars and a decanter of fine brandy close at his elbow appeared to him as the height of hospitality, as one gentleman would extend it to another. And when he found that his new host manifested even as deep an interest in his previous life as his earlier friend who had provided the money, he was prepared to reciprocate in every way that lay in his power.

With the preliminary acquaintance thus happily and firmly established, Levy opened up for business.

"In this suit for divorce which your wife brought," he asked, "the summons was never served on you, was it?"

"Why, yes," Buckner replied, slowly refilling his gla.s.s from the decanter; "it was served on me by a man named Murray, at Colorado Springs."

"Oh, dear; oh, dear!" groaned Levy, with a mixture of pathos and incredulity, "what an unfortunate memory you have! There was no one else in Colorado Springs who knew about it, I presume?"

"Not there," Buckner answered; "I sent the paper to a lawyer in Denver named Jennings."

"But there was no correspondence between you?"

"Yes; there were two or three letters."

"Where is Jennings now?"

"Dead, for all I know," he responded, with a cheerfulness which came from his comfortable environment rather than from any particular pleasure from the possible demise of the gentleman in question. "He moved away from Denver later, and I haven't heard of him since."

Levy was absorbed in his own thoughts for several moments, which time was profitably employed by Buckner again to replenish his gla.s.s, and to help himself to a fresh cigar.

"Look here, Buckner." Levy spoke so suddenly that his companion guiltily replaced the unlighted cigar in the box. "How difficult would it be for you to forget that you ever had a summons served on you, provided there was enough in it to make it worth while?"

Buckner boldly placed the cigar between his lips and straightened up.

"What's the game?" he asked. "Tell me what's up, and perhaps we can make a trade."

"I have a client who might like to see that divorce decree set aside,"

Levy began.

"Another friend of mine, eh?" Buckner laughed at his own joke. "Never knew before I was so popular." The brandy was getting in its work.

"Every one is interested in my marriage troubles, and here's one wants to give me back my wife!"

"Never mind that," Levy stopped him. "This client of mine isn't interested in you or in your wife, but he evidently has a private spite against Gorham, who married her. He may not care to push it, but, if he does, do you see what the game is?"

"Sure I do, sure I do," Buckner answered, thickly. "d.a.m.ned good game--I'll play it with you. It would hit her hard, too, wouldn't it?"

"What do you care if it does?"

"I don't care--glad of it--that's the special reason why I'm willing to play the game."

"All right; we'll get down to business. I'm going to draw up an affidavit that, as far as the divorce proceedings are concerned, you never retained any lawyer, and never were served with a summons, either in Colorado Springs or anywhere else; that you never knew of the pending of the action, nor that this suit was to be brought to trial. And you are to swear to this, do you understand?"

Buckner whistled suggestively. "What's the financial proposition?"

"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 a.s.sured 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 gla.s.s.

"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 d.a.m.ned 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 a.s.sistance 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 a.s.sist you in gratifying that desire," he remarked.