“The key was in the car. I started the engine and went down the drive. It was the last few minutes of dusk, not yet completely dark, and, knowing the drive well, I didn't switch the lights on. The drive is a little downhill, and I was probably going between twenty and twenty-five miles an hour. As I was approaching the bridge over the brook I was suddenly aware of an object in the drive, on the left side, immediately in front of the car. There wasn't time for me to realize, in the dim light, that it was a man. One instant I saw there was an object, and the next instant the car had hit it. I jammed my foot on the brake, but not with great urgency, because at that instant there was no flash of realization that I had hit a man. But I had the car stopped within a few feet. I jumped out and ran to the rear, and saw it was Louis Rony. He was lying about five feet back of the car, and he was dead. The middle of him had been completely crushed by the wheels of the car.
“I could offer a long extenuation of what I did then, but it will serve just as well to put it into one sentence and simply say that I lost my head. I won't try to describe how I felt, but will tell what I did. When I had made certain that he was dead, I dragged the body off the drive and across the grass to a shrub about fifty feet away, and left it on the north side of the shrub, the side away from the drive. Then I went back to the car, drove across the bridge and on to the entrance, turned around, drove back up to the house, parked the car where I had found it, and got out.
“I did not enter the house. I paced up and down the terrace, trying to decide what to do, collecting my nerves enough to go in and tell what had happened.
While I was there on the terrace Goodwin came out of the house, crossed the terrace, and went in the direction of the place where the car was parked. I heard him start the engine and drive away. I didn't know where he was going. I thought he might be going to New York and the car might not return. Anyway, his going away in the car seemed somehow to make up my mind for me. I went into the house and up to my room, and tried to compose my mind by working on an economic report I was preparing for Mr Sperling.
“This afternoon Mr Sperling told me that he had noticed that the letters on his desk, ready for mailing, were gone. I told him that I had taken them up to my room, which I had, intending to have them taken to Chappaqua early this morning, but that the blocking of the road by the police, and their guarding of all the cars, had made it impossible. But his bringing up the matter of the letters changed die whole aspect of the situation for me, I don't know why. I at once told him, of my own free will, all of the facts as herein stated. When he told me that the District Attorney would be here later this afternoon, I told him that I would set down those facts in a written statement, and I have now done so. This is that statement.” Sperling looked up. “Signed by Webster Kane,” he said. He stretched forward to hand the paper to the District Attorney. “Witnessed by me. If you want it more detailed I don't think he'll have any objection. Here he is-you can ask him.” Archer took it and ran his eye over it. In a moment he looked up and, with his head to one side, gazed at Kane. Kane met the gaze.
Archer tapped the paper with a finger. “You wrote and signed this, did you, Mr Kane?” “I did,” Kane said clearly and firmly but without bragging.
“Well-you're a little late with it, aren't you?” “I certainly am.” Kane did not look happy, but he was bearing up. The fact that he let his hair do as it pleased was of some advantage to him, for it made it seem less unlikely that a man with the head and face of a young statesman-that is, young for a statesman-would make such a fool of himself. He hesitated and then went on, “I am keenly aware that my conduct was indefensible. I can't even explain it in terms that make sense to me now. Apparently I'm not as good in a crisis as I would like to think I am.” “But this wasn't much of a crisis, was it? An unavoidable accident? It happens to lots of people.” “I suppose it does-but I had killed a man. It seemed like a hell of a crisis to me.” Kane gestured. “Anyhow, you see what it did to me. It threw me completely off balance.” “Not completely.” Archer glanced at the paper. “Your mind was working well enough so that when Goodwin went to the car and drove away, down that same drive, only fifteen minutes after the accident, you thought there was a good chance that it would be blamed on him. Didn't you?” Kane nodded. “I put that in the statement deliberately, even though I knew it could be construed like that. I can only say that if that thought was in my mind I wasn't conscious of it How did I put it?” Archer looked at the paper. Tike this: “His going away in the car seemed somehow to make up my mind for me. I went into the house and up to my room,” and so on.”
“That's right.” Kane looked and sounded very earnest. “I was simply trying to be thoroughly honest about it, after behaviour of which I was ashamed. If I had in me the kind of calculation you have described I didn't know it.” “I see.” Archer looked at the paper, folded it, and sat holding it. How well did you know Rony?” “Oh-not intimately. I had seen him frequently the past few months, mostly at the Sperling home in New York or here.” “Were you on good terms with him?” “No.” It was a blunt uncompromising no. Archer snapped, “Why not?” “I didn't like what I knew of the way he practised his profession. I didn't like him personally-I just didn't like him. I knew that Mr Sperling suspected him of being a Communist, and while I had no evidence or knowledge of my own, I thought that the suspicion might easily be well founded.” “Did you know that Miss Gwenn Sperling was quite friendly with him?” “Certainly. That was the only reason he was allowed to be here.” “You didn't approve of that friendship?” “I did not, no, sir-not that my approval or disapproval mattered any. Not only am I am employee of Mr Sperling's corporation, but for more than four years I have had the pleasure and honour of being a friend-a friend of the family, if I may say that?” He looked at Sperling. Sperling nodded to indicate that he might say that.
Kane went on: “I have deep respect and affection for all of them, including Miss Gwenn Sperling, and I thought Rony wasn't fit to be around her. May I ask a question?” “Certainly.” “I don't know why you're asking about my personal opinion Rony unless it's because you suspect me of killing him, not accident, but intentionally. Is that it?” “I wouldn't say I suspect that, Mr Kane. But this statement disposes of the matter with finality, and before I accept it as it stands-” Archer puckered his lips. “Why, do you resent my questions?” “I do not,” Kane said emphatically. “I'm in no position to resent questions, especially not from you. But it-” “I do,” Sperling blurted. He had been restraining himself. “What are you trying to do, Archer, make some mud if you can't find any? You said this morning it wasn't the policy of your office to go out of the way to make trouble for men of my standing. When did you change your policy?” Archer laughed. It was even closer to a giggle than it had been in the morning, but it lasted longer and it sounded as if he was enjoying it more.