“Not then, perhaps——” Evelyn, who had shot a grateful look at Hayden, whitened as she caught the venom in Burnham’s tone. “Listen to me, Mitchell; I want your full attention. La Montagne has great reason to dislike me, to even fear me. Be quiet,” as Evelyn endeavored to speak. “I had an appointment to meet La Montagne here on Monday night.”
“You did!” Evelyn stared astounded at her step-father.
“But I was detained and could not keep the appointment,” went on Burnham. He moistened his dry lips before continuing. “I take back what I said about La Montagne mistaking the dead man for me. He undoubtedly brought the man here to assist in assassinating me and, finding I did not arrive, killed the man from a double motive—to get rid of a witness who might possibly betray him and to convict me of the crime.”
Evelyn stared at Burnham and then at her companions, her eyes half out of her head.
“You are mad! Utterly mad!” she gasped.
“So that is your cue, is it?” Burnham laughed heartily, immoderately, and Hayden edged nearer the bed, ready for any emergency. Mitchell was the first to speak.
“That’s a very neat theory,” he said, and his calm manner had a quieting effect upon Burnham. “You say you had an engagement to meet Captain La Montagne here, sir, but that you did not keep it. Then how did Captain La Montagne and this unidentified man—you claim, his companion—get inside your house?”
Burnham slipped his hand under the pillow and dragged out a sheet of note paper. “Here is a copy of my letter to Captain La Montagne making the appointment for Monday night. In it you will see that I said that my train might be late, and not wishing to keep him standing on the doorstep in what might be inclement weather, I enclosed my latch key.”
Evelyn gazed aghast at Burnham and then vaguely about the room; its familiar objects wavered and danced before her vision and with a pitiful cry she sank fainting into Detective Mitchell’s arms.