“’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.’”