"But you haven't got Ilingsworth?" quickly interposed Morehead.
"Not yet," and Leech fastened his eyes on Leslie. "Can you have any idea as to where he is?"
The three dissented silently.
"We'll get him yet," smiled Leech. "It is rare that we do not succeed in landing a person when once we start out to," he went on, his glance shifting to Wilkinson, who met it in open and genial defiance.
"You—you have time to hear what my daughter has to say?" asked Wilkinson, and without waiting for an answer, he added: "I think now is the time to take it down—and——"
Leech rose abruptly.
"Miss Wilkinson, you would know this man Ilingsworth, I suppose, if you saw him?"
"Yes," faltered Leslie, "I should know the man. But his pictures in the daily papers—I should never have known him from those."
"Just a moment, until I get his photograph," whispered the Assistant District Attorney, opening the inside door; presently he returned, closing the door again behind him, and advancing towards them he resumed confidingly: "The fact is, I've got Ilingsworth's daughter inside there. I shouldn't be surprised if she knew where the old man is, either, though she insists that she does not, and——"