Detective and mystery stories; Stone, Fleming (Fictitious character) -- Fiction
“Mr. Stone,” returned Wheeler, “I have confessed that I killed Mr.
Appleby; I hold, therefore, that I need say nothing that will influence
my own case.”
“Well, you see, Mr. Wheeler, this case is unusual—perhaps unique, in that
three people have confessed to the crime. So far, I am preserving an open
mind. Though it is possible you and your wife and daughter acted in
collusion, only one of you could have fired the fatal shot; yet you all
three claim to have done so. There is no conclusion to be drawn from this
but that one is guilty and the other two are shielding that one.”
“Draw any conclusion you wish,” said Wheeler, still imperturbably. “But
I’ve no objection to replying to the question you asked me. Sam Appleby
said no word to me that hinted at a fear for his personal safety. If he
had any such fear, he kept it to himself.”
“He knew of your enmity toward him?”
“Of course. He did me an unforgivable injustice and I never pretended
that I did not resent it.”
“And you refused to meet his wishes regarding his son’s campaign?”
“I most certainly did, for the same reasons I opposed his own election
many years ago.”
“Yes; all those details I have from Mr. Appleby, junior. Now, Mr. Appleby
does not believe that his father was killed by any member of your family,
Mr. Wheeler.”
“Can he, then, produce the man whom he does suspect?”
“No; he suspects no one definitely, but he thinks that by investigation,
I can find out the real criminal.”
“You may as well save your time and trouble, Mr. Stone. I am the man you
seek, I freely confess my crime, and I accept my fate, whatever it be.
Can I do more?”
“Yes; if you are telling the truth, go on, and relate details. What
weapon did you use?”
“My own revolver.”
“Where is it?”
“I threw it out of the window.”
“Which window?”
“The—the bay window, in my den.”
“In this room?”
“Yes.”
“That window there?” Stone pointed to the big bay.
“Yes.”
“You were sitting there at the time of the shot, were you not, Miss
Wheeler?” Stone turned to Maida, who, white-faced and trembling, listened
to her father’s statements.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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