I understood. It was Doyle's clue. He had been honest about it. He had not held back the information from us. But it was his to pursue, he figured. As for Craig, I knew that he would gladly keep his hands off the thing. Besides, there was plenty for us to do in carrying out the line of action which Kennedy had adopted, leaving the less subtle things to Doyle.
"How did you find out about this fellow?" asked Craig, after a little while.
"You remember Celeste?" answered Doyle, as though he had not yet finished telling us what he had come to tell.
"The maid? Yes?"
"I saw Rascon hanging about the apartment—trying to see Celeste. I watched. The dirty dog was trying to sell some more of the stuff to Mrs. Wilford, the whole thing—make a final clean-up under threat of handing it over to me if she didn't come across. Well," he laughed, "I got it, anyhow. She ought to thank me. I saved her some money."
I did not like his tone toward Honora.
"Well," he went on, "as soon as I got the lead I investigated. Now I'm convinced that Celeste was the go-between in the transactions. I've made Celeste confess. She paid him the money for Mrs. Wilford. He handed her copies of the fake reports which he agreed to 'kill' if enough was paid for them. Oh, it was a slick game, taking advantage of a situation."
I glanced at Kennedy. "Do you think Celeste can be relied on?" I asked.
He saw that I meant the test of her susceptibility to suggestion and her inaccuracy.
"Ah, very true, Walter," he remarked. "But the reports themselves are incontrovertible. True or false—they were made. Some of them Wilford must have seen. Others she must have paid for. But the fact remains, no matter what Celeste may be."