"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 glass, 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!"