“Yes, yes—but you may have to face a court of law,” warned Mitchell.
“Go slow!” commanded Maynard, breaking into the conversation. “Recollect, Mitchell, in your zeal you may overstep your authority.”
Mitchell contented himself with a glare at Maynard as he again addressed the Frenchman.
“Witnesses are very good things, sir,” he said wisely. “Just a word more; do you admit that Mr. Burnham sent you his latch-key?”
La Montagne disregarded Maynard’s indignant ejaculation and answered promptly. “I received the key, Monsieur; what then?”
“Well, I guess that’s enough——” Mitchell stepped nearer the Frenchman who faced him calmly.
“I will add,” said La Montagne and his voice was very quiet, “the latch-key was not in my possession on Monday night.”
“It wasn’t?” Mitchell almost shouted the question, while Maynard stared in wonder at the Frenchman.
“Non, monsieur,” continued La Montagne tranquilly. “The latch-key had been stolen from my apartment on Monday afternoon.”
Mitchell gazed open-mouthed at his two companions, but before he could think of anything to say the stage manager ran down a few steps and stopped at sight of La Montagne.