"Mr. Leech," broke in Wilkinson, seeking the Assistant District Attorney's glance, which he held to the end, "let me be understood. This man Ilingsworth killed a man in my employ--to be exact, my private secretary, my friend. I want to put myself on record here and now: Whenever a man tries to do me an injury, whenever a man tries to hound me--hound me, understand, as this man Ilingsworth did,"--he paused for an instant,--"his gun was aimed at me, don't you forget that--why, I camp on that man's trail until I land him. And conversely, if a man does me a favour,"--again there was a pause to let the fact sink home,--"I never forget it. Now, Leslie," he concluded, "you may proceed with the facts, and tell us about the man who tried to kill your father in cold blood." Leslie's recital consisted of the threats Ilingsworth had made. Wilkinson supplemented it with his statement as to the unwarranted attack on himself by Ilingsworth in front of Wilkinson's house on the Drive on that eventful evening a short while before. Leech took no notes of these statements, but merely tucked away the details to be dictated to his stenographer later in the privacy of his inner room. "That's all, Mr. Leech," said Wilkinson, rising, and, holding out his hand, the other shook it genially. "By the way, who's going to try the Ilingsworth case for the People?" inquired Morehead, hoping to take the Assistant District Attorney off his guard. "Nobody knows yet," snapped the Assistant District Attorney, in a manner to remind the Colonel gently but forcefully that it was nobody's business but the People's. At the outer door, Leslie held them for a moment. "If there was any way to," she faltered, "I'd like to know what's going to happen to--to that girl inside. I----" Wilkinson winked at Morehead. "Why, girlie," he exclaimed, "Ilingsworth's stolen millions will take care of her!" Leslie brightened up. "To be sure," she answered. "I--I never thought of that. I'd forgotten all about the fact that he had money still." "He reeks with money," added Morehead, returning Wilkinson's wink. "And now, for the machine." Twenty minutes later Wilkinson stalked into the presence of his wife and Beekman. It was late afternoon, and Beekman was to dine with them that night. Wilkinson bowed ostentatiously to Mrs. Wilkinson, and commented: "Overpowered, my dear, absolutely overpowered by your attentions to me while I was in the Tombs. I actually felt like a bachelor again." "How could any man expect a lady to go there?" she asked, glaring at Beekman, and evidently expecting him to come to her aid, but as no comment was forthcoming from that gentleman, she concluded her remark by saying: "Not for the best man alive would I trail down into that dirty, dingy place." Wilkinson groaned with disgust.