"Doyle tells me that he has put in a dictagraph in the Wilford apartment," ventured Leslie, changing the subject unwillingly.
"Has he learned anything yet?"
"No, not yet. It's too soon, I imagine."
Leslie paused and glanced about impatiently. Things were evidently not going fast enough to suit him. Yet, without Kennedy, he felt himself helpless. However, there was always one thing about Leslie which I was forced to like. He was no poser. Even when Doyle and the rest did not recognize Kennedy's genius, Leslie quite appreciated it. Although he was a remarkably good physician, he knew that the problems which many cases presented to him were such that only Kennedy could help him out.
"You've heard nothing more about the gossip regarding Mrs. Lathrop and Shattuck?" I asked.
"No, nothing about that. But there is something else that I have found out," he added, after a moment—"something that leads to Wilford's office."
Kennedy was interested in a moment. We had been so occupied with the case that we had not even a chance to go down there yet, although that would have been one of the first things to do, ordinarily, unless, as in this case, we were almost certain that the ransacking of Doyle and Leslie had destroyed those first clues that come only when one is called immediately on a case.
"I've been looking about the place," went on Leslie, encouraged by Kennedy's interest. "I knew you'd be busy with other things. Well, I've discovered one of the other tenants in the building who did not leave his office on the same floor until just after seven o'clock last night."
"Yes?" inquired Craig. "Did he see or hear anything?"
Leslie nodded. "Early in the evening there must have been a woman who visited Wilford," he hastened.