"We'll win," conceded Morehead, "but only after some shrewd counsellor-at-law--naming no names--has mapped out the campaign." "That reminds me," said Wilkinson, "that we must put Flomerfelt on to this." "Never mind Flomerfelt just now," advised Morehead. "Our first step is to buy a live newspaper and start in. And the first thing that's going to be chalked up to the methods of the _Morning Mail_, is the murderous mob that's responsible for the murder of Pallister three days ago." They had started for Lafayette Street, but Wilkinson held them back. "Who's going to try my case, Morehead?" he queried. "Which one of Murgatroyd's men?" Colonel Morehead smiled enigmatically. "Assistant District Attorney J. Newton Leech is the man. My information is direct--direct from the inside." Wilkinson literally dragged them across the street. "Come on," he said, "we'll go in and see Assistant District Attorney Leech right away." Morehead interposed, and demanded: "What for?" "Just to--er--throw a sop to Cerberus," said Wilkinson. "Come, come along with me." Wilkinson's cringing manner of a little while before had left him. His shoulders once more were straight, his Van Dyke belligerent. He had assumed his position as a leader of men. "Both you and Leslie come along with me," he repeated. "I'm going to scratch Leech's back, and maybe, one of these days, he'll scratch mine." They were ushered forthwith into the Assistant District Attorney's outer office. His private door was open, and they could hear his even voice within. His tones were mingled, however, with those of a woman--a pleading, tearful woman, judging from her voice. Wilkinson's card was sent in to Leech; and the instant that the Assistant District Attorney saw it, his straight lips widened into a pleasant smile. He came out to greet the three almost instantly, singled out Morehead and held out his hand. "Colonel," he said in his sprightly and yet confidential manner, "mighty glad to see you." And now turning his gaze on Wilkinson, he added: "I'm afraid, Mr. Wilkinson, that you won't care to shake hands with me; but I assure you I won't bite--not just yet, at any rate." Wilkinson shook hands warmly, and haw-hawed in a most approved and business-like manner. Leech now turned swiftly to Leslie, and then stopped, embarrassed. "Miss Wilkinson," began Colonel Morehead. "Mr. Leech, this is my daughter, Miss Wilkinson," said Peter V., snatching the words from the Colonel's mouth, and then without giving Leech the opportunity to make the usual acknowledgment, he hurriedly went on in a loud, commanding voice: "Now, Leslie, dear, I want you to tell Assistant District Attorney Leech of the threats that this man Ilingsworth made to you the other day."