“You are to come with us,” he said, and without a backward glance the housekeeper followed the detective and Hayden from the house.
For a moment after their departure the silence was absolute; then Maynard, drawing a long breath, faced the Chief of the Secret Service.
“The strain is over,” he said thankfully. “I really thought I had killed Von Eltz with an accidental overdose of hyoscine until you announced, Coroner Penfield, that he had died from hydrocyanic acid; then for the first time I realized he must have penetrated my disguise, attempted to poison me and inadvertently mixed the glasses and drank the dose he prepared for me.”
Marian’s low “Thank God!” reached only Mrs. Burnham, and that astute dame, catching her expression, acted with promptness.
“It’s been a horrible six days,” she confessed, “with every one suspecting every one else. Evelyn, if you hurry, you can catch the Society Editors at their office. Tell them to put in the morning newspapers that Mr. and Mrs. Peter Burnham announce your engagement to Captain René La Montagne and that the marriage will take place next month.”
“Mother!” Evelyn’s arms flew about her and she gave her a most undignified hug. “Bless you,” and La Montagne gratefully kissed her hand; then the two young lovers hurried from the room.
Burnham went up to his wife. “Lillian,” his voice broke. “I haven’t deserved your faith and your splendid loyalty; but Hayden led me to believe that I was developing a tendency to homicidal mania; there is a taint in our family, my uncle died insane. Hayden loaned me books on poisons, suggested that La Montagne would do me physical injury, and so worked upon me that I even took underhand methods, such as forging Evelyn’s name on receipts of La Montagne’s letters and suppressing the letters from her. I cannot forgive myself for the harm I might have done.”
“Hush! don’t blame yourself too much, Peter.” Mrs. Burnham colored. “Dr. Hayden made quite as big a fool of me,” as the memory of her interview that morning occurred to her. “Must you go, Dr. Penfield?”
“Yes.” The coroner picked up the medicine glass containing prussic acid. “With your permission, Maynard, I’ll take this for laboratory examination.”
“Wait for me downstairs, Penfield,” called Chief Connor as the others started for the door. “Mr. Maynard, you have done fine work; rest assured no more coded chess problems will go to or come from Germany. Thanks and congratulations,” and he wrung his hand, bowed to Marian Van Ness and left the room.