Hayden waited until several women had passed out of hearing distance before he answered. “Burnham will not see reason,” he said. “He has become obsessed with one idea and he will apparently go to any lengths to see that Captain La Montagne is punished for his attack upon him—he calls it a murderous attack.”
Maynard frowned angrily. “Burnham is a——” he checked his hasty speech. “It looks as if it was up to us, doctor, to locate Sam, the taxi-driver, and wring the truth out of him.”
“That is the size of it,” agreed Hayden. “And we won’t find it easy. Remember, if Sam clears La Montagne of doing the shooting he virtually proves himself guilty.”
“I see your point,” agreed Maynard. “You mean——”
“That, unless Sam saw another person leave the apartment when he was there—and it seems on the face of it highly improbable that three men should have dashed away from our door in the space of a few seconds,” interpolated Hayden, “one of these two men, Sam or La Montagne, shot Burnham.”
“It was Sam,” declared Maynard with conviction. “Never La Montagne.”
“I agree with you,” added Hayden. “Patients are waiting for me in my office, Maynard; after they go I must see Burnham. In the meantime will you interview La Montagne and ask him if he noted anything unusual about the taxi-driver, any undue haste, signs of horror, fear, or indication that he carried a revolver, though the last is not likely.”
“I’ll ask La Montagne,” promised Maynard as the physician moved away with a farewell nod.
Turning about Maynard continued thoughtfully up Connecticut Avenue. He had reached the juncture of M Street and Rhode Island Avenue when his progress was stopped by passing motors. He was just about to step off the curb when a taxi-cab turned out of Connecticut Avenue and shot down M Street, but not before Maynard had a good view of Sam, the taxi-driver, who had half turned to address his passenger, Captain René La Montagne.