ay. Doyle has searched. The place must have been pretty well gone over. However, I can see nothing left but to search again," he decided, quickly. "We must go down there."
X THE ORDEAL BEAN
Wilford's office was in an old building of the days when a structure of five or six stories, with a cast-iron, ornamented front, was considered a wonderful engineering achievement. It was down-town, i
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n the heart of the financial district, and had been chosen by Wilford, without a doubt, to convey an impression of solidity and conservatism, a useful camouflage to cover the essential character of his law practice as scandal attorney.
We climbed the worn stairs with Leslie, and, as we mounted, I noticed that there was also, down the hall, a back stairway, evidently placed there in case
of fire. Hence, it was possible, I reasoned, for a person to have slipped in or out practically unobserved from the front.
We knew now that at least one person, probably two, had been there, though who they were we did not know. Nor was there yet any clue, except that certainly a woman had visited Wilford, at least early in the evening.
Wilford's office was on the third floor, in th
ver everything minutely but quickly, while we waited, apart.
"Not even a finger-print has been left unobscured!" he exclaimed, finally, almost ready in disgust to give it up. "It is shameful—shameful," he muttered. "When will they learn to let things alone until some one comes who knows the scientific importance of little things! If only I could have bee
n first on the job."
"There's the typewriter," suggested Leslie, trying to divert attention and smooth things over.
"Have you the letter?" asked Craig.
Leslie drew it eagerly from his pocket and unfolded it. Kennedy took it, spread it out and studied it a moment:
Don't think I am a coward to do this, but things cannot go on as t
hey have been going. It is no use. I cannot work it out. This is the only way. So I shall drop out. You will find my will in the safe. Good-by forever.
Then Craig moved over and sat at the typewriter. Quickly he struck several keys, then made a hasty comparison of the note with what he had written.
"The 's' and the 'r' are out of alignment, th
oncluded, hurriedly, as though merely confirming what he was already convinced of. "There are enough marks to identify the writing as having been done on this machine, all right. No, there's nothing in
at we found him sprawled—so," illustrated Doctor Leslie, dropping into the chair. Then, straightening up, he indicated the big flat-topped desk in the middle of  the room. "The two glasses were on
this desk—one of
e pointed th
e spots out, one of them near where he was, the other near the outer edge of the desk, Kennedy's eye fell on the desk calendar.
"I removed the pages I told y
ou about," supplied
Leslie, noticing the direction of Craig's glance. "It's a