“He is a German.” Palmer was enjoying the surprise his information was creating. “Not liking his full name of Johannes, the butler, then about twenty-two years of age, shortened it to Jones and lengthened his given name, ‘Adolph,’ to Adolphus. Now, Maynard,” Palmer’s manner grew serious, “we must tell Burnham of his servant’s double dealing.”
“Just a moment, sir, if you please,” put in a voice behind Palmer, and he jumped at the nearness of Detective Mitchell who had walked in a second before, unperceived by the three men. “Kindly make no mention of Jones to Mr. Burnham; Chief Connor is handling the matter now, and it’s not for us to interfere.”
Palmer colored warmly at the detective’s peremptory tone, but controlled his anger as he remarked: “So Chief Connor has come around to my theory that the dead man was a German spy, has he?”
“I can’t say, sir, what Chief Connor thinks; he does not confide in me,” replied Mitchell. “But I do know that when he requests a person not to interfere in the handling of a case, it is healthier for the person to do what he says.”
Seeing the gathering wrath in Palmer’s still flushed countenance, Maynard hastily broke into the conversation.
“Your spy theory doesn’t seem tenable, Palmer,” he remarked. “If the man was caught spying, why doesn’t the man who killed him come forward and state the case? No one is going to be condemned these days for exposing, aye, even killing, a German spy in line of duty.”
“That’s a specious argument,” scoffed Palmer. “It is just as convincing to say that if the dead man had been a member of the Secret Service killed by a German, his identity would be known to American officials.”
“Well, so it would,” declared Hayden, glancing in surprise at Maynard and Palmer. Maynard’s usually tranquil manner had deserted him, while Palmer’s expression was a clear indication of his feelings. “It may be that the dead man was a member of the Secret Service, but that does not necessarily mean that the Secret Service is going to announce that fact to the public, eh, Mitchell?”
“Quite true, doctor,” answered the detective. “And it may also be that the dead man was just an ordinary American citizen, a law abiding gentleman who placed too much confidence in——” Mitchell paused, then added, “in Captain La Montagne.”
“Nonsense!” protested Maynard vigorously. “You surely don’t place any credence in Burnham’s charges, Mitchell; the man’s out of his head.”