“Glad to see you, Mr. Palmer,” said Connor cordially, as Palmer introduced himself and then mentioned Maynard’s name. Chief Connor rose and extended his hand to the famous actor. “Won’t you sit here?” indicating chairs to his right. “You already know Mitchell, I believe.”
Palmer nodded curtly; he was somewhat taken aback at the presence of the detective; he would rather have seen the Chief alone. Maynard, who had acknowledged Mitchell’s greeting courteously, waited for Palmer to open the interview, but it was not until Connor remarked pleasantly: “Well, gentlemen,” that Palmer addressed him.
“I am convinced that the man found dead in Burnham’s library on Tuesday afternoon was a German spy,” he stated. “I presume from the presence of Detective Mitchell, who is in charge of the investigation of that mystery, that you are working along the same lines.”
Connor’s reply took the form of a question. “What leads you to think the man was a German spy?”
“The fact that no inquiries have been made for him looks to me as if his relatives and friends are in Germany,” explained Palmer. “If he had been of any nationality at peace with us, or an American citizen, his absence would have been reported and the aid of the police sought.”
Connor nodded slightly. “That is a reasonable argument, Mr. Palmer, but it is not evidence. Any one who dies suddenly these days is a German spy—in the public’s opinion.” The Chief’s stern mouth relaxed into a faint smile. “We must have more to go upon than that.”
Maynard looked across at Detective Mitchell. “Have you identified the man?”
There was a faint pause before Mitchell answered, “No, but our finger-print experts will make a final report soon,” he answered.
“Slow work,” observed Palmer, and Chief Connor saw the color steal up in the detective’s face.
“Slow work—but sure,” he remarked with emphasis. “Don’t give yourself too much concern, Mr. Palmer, the police will solve the riddle. And it is a case presenting some unique features, I’ll admit.”