“Sam finally confessed that he was your son,” he stated. “And he implicated you in this far reaching German plot which Mr. Maynard has unearthed so cleverly. Sam confessed you had given him duplicate keys of this house and that he had passed them over for a consideration to a ‘party’ whose name he would not divulge, even under pressure.” Chief Connor turned to Hayden. “He meant you.”
“Did he?” Hayden smiled contemptuously. “Prove it; there is no law which forces a suspected party to incriminate himself.”
“We don’t need further proof,” interrupted Maynard with significant emphasis. “Sam——”
“Had nothing to do with Count von Eltz’ death,” declared Mrs. Ward vehemently, her bloodshot eyes turning pleadingly to first one and then another. “Sam is a good boy, but led astray by——” She stopped and bit her lip.
“I know he had nothing to do with the tragic happenings on Monday night,” responded Maynard quickly, taking pity on the woman’s evident agony. “Let me complete my story. Upon my arrival, I telephoned this house and a voice I did not recognize told me that Mr. Burnham was out of town but would be back in two days. I had seen in the newspapers that La Montagne was in Washington and hunted him up. At the Burlington I found the desk clerk so busy that I got the number of your room, René, from an elevator boy and went, unattended, directly to it. I found the door open and a charwoman just leaving. On explaining that I was a friend of yours, she let me in and went away.”
“She never told me that any one had called,” exclaimed La Montagne.
“Forgot all about it probably,” went on Maynard. “I got rather restless sitting still waiting for you, and looked about for something to read. A letter lying open with a key holding it down attracted my attention.” Maynard flushed. “I don’t usually read private correspondence, René, and you must forgive the breach of manners, but on seeing Burnham’s signature at the bottom of the page, I took the liberty to glance down it, and his statement that he would be at his house that night, and that he sent you the key to enter because the house was unoccupied, instantly piqued my curiosity. The statement was directly contrary to what I had learned over the telephone half an hour before. Acting on impulse I pocketed Burnham’s key and left the apartment.”
“Mon Dieu!” ejaculated La Montagne in open-eyed astonishment.
“In one of my disguises I went to Burnham’s house that night,” went on Maynard. “It is some years since I have been in Washington and in the driving rainstorm I got confused and had to ask how to find the house.”
“I was the person you asked,” stated Marian, interrupting him. “Your voice—” she stopped and continued softly—“your voice was familiar, but I did not recognize you in your make-up. My servant, Mammy, who was with me, answered your question.”