"Why," continued Leslie, eager to unburden his story, "Wardlaw himself has the marks of a nervous affection as plainly as the eye can see it. You know what it is in this disease, as though the nerves were wasting away. But he doesn't seem half as badly affected as his wife. They tell me Maude Marbury was quite a beauty once, and photographs I have seen prove it. She's a wreck now. And, of course, the old lady must have been the most seriously affected of them all."
"Who else is there in the household?" inquired Kennedy, growing more and more interested.
"Well," answered Leslie, slowly, "they've had a nurse for some time,
Natalie Langdale. Apparently she has escaped."
"Any servants?"
"Some by the day; only one regularly—a Japanese, Kato. He goes home at night, too. There's no evidence of the disease having affected him."
I caught Leslie's eye as he gave the last information. Though I did not know much about beriberi, I had read of it, and knew that it was especially prevalent in the Orient. I did not know what importance to attach to Kato and his going home at night.
"Have you done any investigating yourself?" asked Kennedy.
Leslie hesitated a moment, as though deprecating his own efforts in that line, though when he spoke I could see no reason why he should, except that it had so often happened that Kennedy had seen the obvious which was hidden from most of those who consulted him.
"Yes," he replied, "I thought perhaps there might be some motive back of it all which I might discover. Possibly it was old Mrs. Marbury's fortune—not a large one, but substantial. So it occurred to me that the will might show it. I have been to the surrogate."
"And?" prompted Kennedy, approvingly.