“Where is the gun?” I asked.
“In Harper’s cage,” the boy said.
I scowled at the cashier and asked him:
“Will you get it?”
He went out as if he were glad to go.
“I didn’t mean to kill him,” the youngster said. “I don’t think I meant to.”
I nodded encouragingly, trying to look solemnly sympathetic.
“I don’t think I meant to kill him,” he repeated, “though I took the gun with me. You were right about my being cuckoo over Dinah—then. It was worse some days than others. The day Willsson brought the check in was one of the bad ones. All I could think about was that I had lost her because I had no more money, and he was taking five thousand dollars to her. It was the check. Can you understand that? I had known that she and Thaler were—you know. If I had learned that Willsson and she were too, without seeing the check, I wouldn’t have done anything. I’m sure of it. It was seeing the check—and knowing I’d lost her because my money was gone.
“I watched her house that night and saw him go in. I was afraid of what I might do, because it was one of the bad days, and I had the gun in my pocket. Honestly I didn’t want to do anything. I was afraid. I couldn’t think of anything but the check, and why I had lost her. I knew Willsson’s wife was jealous. Everybody knew that. I thought if I called her up and told her—I don’t know exactly what I thought, but I went to a store around the corner and phoned her. Then I phoned Thaler. I wanted them there. If I could have thought of anyone else who had anything to do with either Dinah or Willsson I’d have called them too.