TOLD IT ALL.
Witherspoon started. "Ah, it's you. Did you bring the evening papers?"
"Yes, here they are," Henry answered.
"What do they say? Can't you tell me? Got the papers and can't tell me
what they say?"
"They say a great deal," Henry replied. "Brooks has made a
confession."
In an instant Witherspoon sat on the edge of the bed, with the covers
jerked about him. He opened his mouth, but no word came forth.
"When he was told that Mrs. Colton had made a statement he gave up,"
said Henry. "The confession is not a written one, but is doubtless
much fuller than if it were. I will take the _Star's_ report. They are
all practically the same, but this one has a few pertinent questions.
I will skip the introduction.
"'I confess,' said Brooks, 'that I killed the old man, but I did not
murder him. I was trying to keep him from killing me. I had gone into
a losing speculation and was in pressing need of money. I knew that it
would be useless to ask him to help me; in fact, I didn't want him to
know that I had been speculating, and I decided to help myself. I knew
that he kept money in the safe at home; I didn't know how much, but I
thought that it was enough to help me out, and I began deliberately to
plan the robbery. I knew that it would have to be done in the most
skillful manner, for the old man's love of money made him as sharp as
a briar when money was at stake; and I was resolved to have no
confederates to share the reward and afterward to keep me in fear of
exposure, I wrote a letter, and using the first name that came into my
head, addressed it to "Dave Kittymunks, General Delivery, Chicago." I
don't know where I picked up the name, and it makes no difference. I
ran up to Milwaukee, dropped the letter in a mail box and was back
here before any one knew that I was out of town. I disguised myself
with black whiskers, went to the post-office and called for the
letter, and took care that the delivery clerk should notice me. Colton
supposed that none but members of his family knew of the safe at home,
and why a robber should know must be made clear; so, wearing the same
disguise, I called at the house one day and told the servant in charge
that I had been sent to search for sewer-gas. I showed an order. A
shrewd colored man had been discharged on account of some
irregularities into which I had entrapped him, and an ignorant fellow
that had agreed to work for less had just been put in his place. One
evening when our family visited the Witherspoons I perfected my
arrangements. I sawed the iron bars at the window and placed the black
coat, with the Kittymunks letter in the pocket, as if the sash had
failed and caught it. It was necessary that the coat should be found,
and it was hardly natural that it should be found lying in the yard,
it must appear that in his haste to get away the robber was compelled
to leave his coat, and this could not be done unless he was forced to
get out of it, leaving the police to suspect that he had done so with
a struggle. I had torn one sleeve nearly off. But the mere falling of
the sash on the tail of the coat would not do, it would pull out too
easily. Then I thought of the pipe. I arranged the safe so that with a
chisel I could open it easily--it was an old and insecure thing,
anyway--and then placed a ladder on the ground under the window. Here
there is a paved walk, so there was no necessity to make tracks. Now,
there was but one thing more, and that was a noise to sound like the
falling of the sash, and which was to wake the old man so that he
might jump up almost in time to catch the robber. I had almost
forgotten this, and now it puzzled me. The vault-room, a narrow
apartment, is between the old man's room and mine, and I could have
left the window up, propped with a stick, and from my window jerked
out the prop, but the cool air would have shown the old man that the
window was raised, and this would have ruined everything. Finally I
decided that the falling of my own window--both are old-fashioned and
are held up by a notched button--would arouse him and that he would
think that the noise came from the vault-room. I would prop it with
the edge of the button so that a slight pull on a string would throw
it. But another question then arose. The weather was cold, and why
should we have our window up so high? How should I explain to my wife?
I would build a roaring fire in the furnace. That would heat the room
too hot and give me an excuse to raise the window. But she would find
it down. I could tell her that the room cooled off and that I put it
down. But I was quibbling with myself. Everything was settled. The
hall-door of the vault-room is but a step from my own door, and was
kept fastened with a spring lock and a bolt and was supposed never to
be opened. I drew back the bolt and the catch, and fixed the catch so
that I could easily spring it when I went out. When everything had
thus been arranged, I went to Witherspoon's to come home with the
folks. The sky was clouded and the night was very dark. When we
reached home the old man complained of having eaten too
much--something he never had cause to complain of when he ate at
home--and said that he believed he would lie down.
"'The window of the vault-room was never raised by the old man, and
was kept fastened down with an old-time cast-iron catch. I had broken
this off; but, afraid that he might examine the window and the door, I
went with him to his room. And when he went into the vault-room to
light the gas, I stood in the door and talked to him about his
intended investment, and I talked so positively of the great profit
he would surely make that he looked at neither the door nor the
window. Everything had worked well. I bade him and the old lady good
night and went to my own room. My wife complained of the heat, and I
raised the window, remarking that I would get up after a while and put
it down. How dreadfully slow the time was after I went to bed! And
when I thought that every one must be asleep, my wife startled me by
asking if I had noticed how unusually feeble her mother looked. I
imagined that some one was dragging the ladder from under the window,
and once I fancied that I heard the old man call me. The thought, the
possibility of committing murder never occurred to me. The positive
knowledge that I should never be discovered and that I should get
every dollar of his money would not have tempted me to kill him. I lay
for a long time--until I knew that every one must be asleep. Then I
carefully got out of bed. I struck a chair, and I waited to see if my
wife had been awakened by the noise. No; she was sound asleep. I tied
a string to the window button, got my tools, which I had hidden in a
closet and which were mainly intended for show after the robbery was
discovered, and softly stole out. The hall was dark. The old man hated
a gas-bill. I felt my way to the vault-room door and gently pushed it
open, a little at a time. When I got inside I remembered that the very
first thing I must attend to during the excitement which would follow
the discovery of the robbery was to slip the bolt back in its place.
The gas appeared to be burning lower than usual, and I wondered if the
prospect of parting with money enough to make the investment had
driven the old man to one more turn of his screw of economy. Although
I knew how to open the safe, for previous arrangement had made it
easy, I found it to be some trouble after all. But I got it open and
had taken out the money drawer when a noise startled me. I sprang up,
and there was the old man. He was but a few feet from me. He had a
pistol. I saw it gleam in the dim light. I couldn't stand discovery,
and I must protect myself against being shot. I knew that in the
semi-darkness he did not recognize me. All this came with a flash. I
sprang upon him. With one hand I caught the pistol, with the other I
clutched his throat. I would choke him senseless and run back to my
room. He threw up one hand, threw back his head and freed his throat.
We were under the gas jet. My hand struck the screw, and the light
leaped to full blaze. At that instant the pistol fired and the old man
fell, I wheeled about and was in the hall; I sprung the lock after me,
and in a second I was in my own room--just as my wife, dazed with
fright, had jumped out of bed. "Come," I cried, "something must have
happened." And together we ran into the old man's room.'
"'During the excitement which followed I forgot no precaution; I
slipped the bolt back into place and removed the string from the
button of my own window. My wife was frantic. I did not suspect that
the old woman had seen me, for I was not in the vault-room an instant
after the pistol fired, and before that it was so dark that she could
not have recognized me. If I had thought that she did see me'--
"'What would you have done?' the reporter asked.
"'I don't know,' Brooks answered, 'but it is not reasonable to suppose
that I would have let her go away from home. I acknowledge that I
did not care to see her recover--now that I am acknowledging
everything--for at best she could be only in the way, and naturally,
she would interfere with my management of the estate. But if I had
been anxious that she should die, I could have had her poisoned.
Instead, however, I employed a quack, who I knew pretended to be a
great physician, and who I believed could do her no good. In fact, I
didn't think that she could live but a few days.' After pausing for a
moment he added, 'She must have seen me just as the light blazed up,
and was doubtless standing back from the door. I didn't take any
money.'
"'But why didn't you take the money while the old man was away? Then
you would have run no risk of killing him or of being killed."
"'I could easily have done this, but he was so shrewd. I wanted him to
believe that he had almost caught the robber.'
"'Then there is no such man as Dave Kittymunks,' said the reporter.
"'No,' Brooks answered.
"'But Flummers, the reporter, said that he knew him.'
"'I met Mr. Flummers one evening,' Brooks replied, 'and before we
parted company I think that he must have had in his mind a vague
recollection of having seen such a fellow. The public was eager, and
that was a great stimulus to Mr. Flummers.'
"'Did you feel that you were suspected?' the reporter asked.
"'Not of having committed the murder, but I felt that I was suspected
of having had something to do with it. But I hadn't a suspicion that
any proof existed. I could stand suspicion, especially as I should
receive large pay for it. A number of men in this city are under
suspicion of one kind or another, but it doesn't seem to have hurt
them a great deal. Their checks are good. Men come back from the
penitentiary and build up fortunes with the money they stole. Their
hammered brass fronts and colored electric lights are not unknown to
Clark Street.'
"'But you suffered remorse, of course,' the reporter suggested.
"'I think that there is a great deal of humbug about the remorse a man
feels,' Brooks replied. 'I regretted that I had been forced to kill
the old man, for with all his stinginess he was rather kind-hearted,
but I had to save my own life. It is true that I didn't have to commit
the robbery, but robbery is not a capital crime.'
"'But the self-defense of a robber, when it results in a tragedy, is a
murder,' the reporter suggested.
"'We'll see about that,' Brooks coolishly replied.
"'Do you make this confession with the advice of your lawyer?'
"'No, but at the suggestion of my own judgment. When I was told that
the old woman had seen the killing and that, of course, her deposition
would be introduced in court, I then knew that it was worse than
useless to protest my innocence. Besides, as she saw it, the tragedy
was a murder, but, as I confess it'--He hesitated.
"'It is what?' the reporter asked.
"'Well, that's for the law to determine. There should always be some
mercy for a man who tells the truth. I have done a desperate thing--I
staked my future on it. But I have associated with rich men so long
that for me a future without money could be but a continuation of
embarrassment. I have helped to make the fortunes of other men, but I
failed when I engaged in speculations for myself. I had prospects, it
is true, but I didn't know but Colton had arranged his will so as to
prevent my using his money; and I had reason to fear that my wife was
in touch with him,'
"'Has she been to see you?' the reporter asked.
"'That's rather an impertinent question,' Brooks replied, 'but I may
as well confess everything. We haven't been getting along very well
together. No, she hasn't been to see me. Not one of my friends has
called. There, gentlemen, I have told you everything.'"
When the last word of the interview had been pronounced, Witherspoon
grunted and lay back with his hands clasped under his head.
"What do you think of it?" Henry asked.
"There's hardly any room for thinking."
But he did think, and a few moments later he said: "Of all the
cold-blooded scoundrels I ever heard of, he takes the lead. And just
to think what I have done for him! I don't think, though, that he has
robbed us of much. He didn't have the handling of a great deal of
cash. Still I can't tell. My, how sharp he is! He didn't mention the
Colossus. But what difference Would it make?" He sat up. "What need I
care how often he mentions it? The public knows me. Nobody ever had
cause to question my credit. Why should I have been worried over him?
Henry, you are right; my trouble is the result of a physical cause.
Caroline, I'm going in to dinner with you."