“Access to the balcony is from the hall of the apartment; there was time, René, for an active man to have slipped back from the balcony into the corridor after having fired the shot and been standing just where we found you when we rushed into the hall.” Maynard checked off his remarks on his fingers. “The long French window which gives admittance from the hall to the balcony was open as well as the outer door leading from the apartment to the corridor where you stood.”
“Well, well, what then? Just because I stopped before a strange door does not mean I am a criminal!” La Montagne jerked out his sentences. “Even in this mad America!”
Maynard was silent for a second. “Burnham fainted from excitement,” he said. “However, he caught a glimpse of you before Palmer closed the door and called out that you had ‘tried to kill him’.”
La Montagne gazed at Maynard in blank astonishment. “Mon Dieu! Is the man possessed?”
“It would seem so,” agreed Maynard. “But I think another word fits the case better, ‘obsessed’,” and as the Frenchman looked puzzled, he added, “Burnham appears to hate you.”
“Hate me!” La Montagne threw himself back in his chair. “Everywhere I hear of such animosity on his part, and why?” he laughed vexedly. “It is a German trait to ‘strafe’ and not an American characteristic.”
Maynard stopped fingering his wrist watch and stared at his companion. “You mean the animosity is all on his side?”
“Absolutely. Our intercourse has been little but friendly——”
“But—but you know he opposes your engagement to Evelyn——?”
“So I have understood recently.” La Montagne shot a questioning look at Maynard. “Are you trying to establish a motive for my so-called attempt to shoot Burnham?”