a maniac. Hands dropped off me; and presently everybody was listening to Kelly.
He told his story with unhurried evenness, his eyes never wavering or clouding. A deliberate man, though unlucky.
“I was walkin’ my beat that night, an’ as I turned the corner of Jones into Pine I saw a man jump back from the steps of a buildin’ into the vestibule. A burglar, I thought, an’ cat-footed it down there. It was a dark vestibule, an’ deep, an’ I saw somethin’ that looked like a man in it, but I wasn’t sure.
“ ‘Come out o’ there!’ I called, but there was no answer. I took my gun in my hand an’ started up the steps. I saw him move just then, comin’ out. An’ then my foot slipped. It was worn smooth, the bottom step, an’ my foot slipped. I fell forward, the gun went off, an’ the bullet hit him. He had come out a ways by then, an’ when the bullet hit him he toppled over frontwise, tumblin’ down the steps onto the sidewalk.
“When I looked at him I saw it was Gilmore. I knew him to say ‘howdy’ to, an’ he knew me—which is why he must o’ ducked out of sight when he saw me comin’ around the corner. He didn’t want me to see him comin’ out of a buildin’ where I knew Mr. Tennant lived, I suppose, thinkin’ I’d put two an’ two together, an’ maybe talk.
“I don’t say that I did the right thing by lyin’, but it didn’t hurt anybody. It was an accident; but he was a man with a lot of friends up in high places, an’—accident or no—I stood a good chance of bein’ broke, an’ maybe sent over for a while. So I told my story the way you people know it. I couldn’t say I’d seen anything suspicious without maybe puttin’ the blame on some innocent party, an’ I didn’t want that. I’d made up my mind that if anybody was arrested for the murder, an’ things looked bad for them, I’d come out an’ say I’d done it. Home, you’ll find a confession all written out—written out in case somethin’ happened to me—so nobody else’d ever be blamed.