“But, look here, Mr. Merritt; what more do you want to convince you of the Frenchman’s guilt?”
“Proofs; that’s all,” he replied cheerfully.
“But what further proof do you need? Here you have a man who is undoubtedly insane, who is furthermore an inmate of the Rosemere, and who, on Tuesday evening, went out with the avowed intention of killing his supposed rival; and, to cap the climax, the victim’s hat is found in his possession. And yet, you have doubts!”
The detective only smiled quietly.
“By the way,” he said, “I must go to the hospital, and get that hat before it disappears again.”
I started.
“It didn’t occur to me before, but when we put him into the ambulance, he was bareheaded,” I confessed.
Merritt uttered an exclamation of impatience.
“We’ll go to your place, then; it must be there. When you saw him in the street, he had on a hat similar to the one we are looking for, didn’t he?”