Mrs. Burnham blushed hotly. “I did,” she confessed. “But I recognized the man as one who had traveled to Chelsea to blackmail my husband; and, God forgive me, I feared Mr. Burnham had met him here and, in a moment of desperation, poisoned him with some of the hydrocyanic acid which had been prescribed for stomach disorders for him when we were in Florida last winter. I knew the bottle was in the house somewhere, that we had plenty of cherry cordial, and that Mr. Burnham had left for Washington on Monday.”
Burnham, who had listened with increasing anxiety, exclaimed hurriedly: “My train did not reach here until early Tuesday morning and I went to a Turkish bath and later got my breakfast and lunch down town; then came up to this house, saw the windows opened, and on entering went directly to the library and rang for Jones, supposing he was downstairs. Glancing about the library I saw the dead man, Von Eltz, or Shipman, as I knew him; realized I had promised to meet him that afternoon; that I had threatened to make trouble if he blackmailed me again, and not stopping to think bolted out of the house and into the taxi which was still standing at the curb.”
“But I don’t understand how the dead man got in the library,” exclaimed Evelyn.
Hayden raised his head and addressed them sullenly. “I carried him there,” he admitted. “There’s a side entrance to our apartment house which opens directly on your court, Burnham, and with the pass-keys which Sam gave me, I could enter this house at any hour unobserved. I came in about two o’clock Tuesday and stole upstairs to Von Eltz’ usual quarters and found him lying there dead. It was a fearful shock.” Hayden passed his hand across his mouth. “I was uncertain whether Von Eltz had committed suicide or been murdered, or who had murdered him. I decided to destroy all evidence of his having occupied the rooms, and did so; no very difficult job, as Von Eltz had planned to go on Tuesday anyway, and we had sent away practically everything.”
“Why did you carry the body into the library?” asked Maynard.
“I was carrying it into the basement intending to destroy it with quick-lime,” explained Hayden. “Hearing some one, Evelyn, I found out later, moving about downstairs, I gave up my original plan, propped the body in the chair in the library and disappeared. Mitchell,” turning to the detective, “I have committed no crime. Take off these handcuffs.”
“Wait,” directed Chief Connor, as Mitchell stared uncertainly at his prisoner and at Maynard. “Turn Dr. Hayden over to the Department of Justice officials, Mitchell. You have been guilty of high treason, sir, and must pay the penalty. Sam, the taxi-driver, states Von Eltz brought you the Iron Cross for your work.” Mitchell took out from his pocket the decoration which he had found at the theater and Hayden winced. “Sam,” continued Connor, “has sworn to still more revolting crimes on your part. Take, for instance, the suit case——”
“It was only filled with quick-lime,” broke in Hayden. “I asked Mrs. Ward to give it to her son——”
“And to mark the suit case with Mr. Maynard’s initials,” completed Connor dryly. “Your machinations involved every one you came in contact with; a scientifically educated criminal is a double menace to public welfare. Go with Mitchell.”
Hayden stood motionless for one long minute, then with eyes averted he walked out of the room, his former companions falling back to let him pass. Mrs. Ward, back in her corner, was startled by Mitchell’s hand on her shoulder.