"It's possible," replied Leslie.
To myself, I repeated the words: "Give her up, Vail. Can't you see she really doesn't love you—never did—never could?"
A few hours ago I should have been forced to conclude that only Vina might have said it, knowing as she did the peculiar nature of Honora and the relations between Wilford and his wife. But now, with the hints discovered by Leslie and amplified by Miss Balcom, I could not be so sure. The remark might have come equally well from Honora herself and have applied to Vina—for Honora, too, might have known that it was not love for Wilford that prompted Vina's interest in her husband, but the desire to make sure of her divorce for the purpose of being free to capture Vance Shattuck.
Interesting and important as the discovery was, it did not help us, except that it added to the slender knowledge we had of what had taken place at the office. A woman had been there. Who it was, whether Honora or Vina, we did not know. Nor did we know how long she had stayed, whether she might merely have dropped in and have gone before the crime was committed.
"You've told Doyle?" asked Kennedy.
"Naturally. I had to tell him. Remember, it was much later that he found that some one else had been at the office, according to the janitor's story."
"I do remember. That's just what I have been thinking about. I suppose he'll tell it all around—he usually does use such things in his third-degree manner."
Leslie smiled, then sobered. "Quite likely. Does it make any difference?"
"Not a bit. I'm rather hoping he does tell it around. I've decided in this case to play the game with the cards on the table. Then some one is sure to make a false move and expose his hand, I feel sure."
Quickly I canvassed the situation. All might be involved, in one way or another—either Vina or Honora might have been the early visitor; later it might have been either Shattuck or even Lathrop, or perhaps neither, who had been there, as far as the janitor's vague observation was concerned.