“It does,” exclaimed Mitchell eagerly. “Here we have a man, without an identifying mark on his person or his clothes, poisoned sometime between two and three Tuesday morning and his body not found until twelve hours later, and then located in a room which an hour previous had not contained his body,” Mitchell rumpled his hair, “and no one in the house but Miss Evelyn Preston who arrived that morning. It’s a very pretty problem.”
“There was some one else in the house beside Miss Preston,” replied Palmer warmly. “The man who carried the dead body into the library. It’s a great pity the house wasn’t searched instantly from top to bottom.”
“True,” agreed Maynard. “But none of us, the coroner and Dr. Hayden included, realized there might be a murderer concealed on the premises until after Penfield’s statement that the man had been dead about twelve hours, and Miss Preston’s immediate declaration that some one had rung the library bell just before she came upstairs from the kitchen and found the dead man sitting there. Our search then, of course, proved fruitless; the man had made good his escape.”
“There wasn’t a trace of any one having been in the house except Miss Preston,” added Mitchell. “We searched the entire place.”
“That bears out Burnham’s theory that the man was murdered elsewhere and carried into his house,” remarked Palmer.
“It is an interesting theory,” commented Chief Connor, and turned to Palmer directly. “I understand, Mr. Palmer, that you are Mr. Burnham’s most intimate friend; can you tell me if he has any enemies?”
Palmer glanced involuntarily at Maynard. “I never heard any one express hatred of Burnham,” he said, speaking slowly. “But he is not particularly popular.”
“That bears out what I have heard, Chief,” broke in Mitchell.
“Yes.” Connor turned again to Palmer. “You have answered very concisely, Mr. Palmer; now please tell me if you have heard Burnham express animosity toward any one.”
Palmer moved restlessly. “That’s a hard question.”