"I don't doubt you, Mr. Cunningham," responded McKelvie quietly. "I know you haven't practised law. I was merely trying to get the connection between you and Darwin, since you know so many of his affairs and represented him in a legal capacity when you went to Chicago to see Dick Trenton."
A slight tremor of Cunningham's eyelids was the only indication that the shot had told, but he replied as coolly as ever, "Not in a legal capacity. He sent me because I was acquainted with the details of the affair and understood merely that I was to find out how much real proof the boy had. What Darwin called me in his telegram I do not know, since I did not see it."
"How do you know he sent a telegram?" queried McKelvie.
"Is this the third degree, Mr. McKelvie?" asked Cunningham, frowning.
"No, Mr. Cunningham. I know it sounds very much like it," apologized McKelvie, "but it isn't meant to be. You have shown a disposition to aid us before, and you will help me immensely by making certain matters clear. Will you answer a few more questions?"
The frown cleared. "Certainly. Glad to assist you. Fire away," Cunningham returned indulgently. "And I don't mind saying that Darwin told me he had sent a telegram when he asked me to go out to Chicago for him."
"What advice did you give Darwin when you returned from Chicago?"
"I told him that the boy had a strong case and advised him to write and request Dick himself to see Mrs. Darwin and arrange for the divorce. Whether he followed my advice or not I don't know."
"For your information let me say that he did follow that advice, that Young Trenton came to New York and, without apparent cause, committed suicide. Whether there was an interview between them or not I cannot of course say positively," was McKelvie's astonishing reply. Why was he permitting Cunningham to remain in ignorance of our latest discovery concerning Richard Trenton?
"I'm very sorry to hear this," murmured Cunningham. "I should hate to think that my advice had brought him to such an end."