Brought before the magistrate, Bates told a coherent though amazing story.
It seems he was Estelle’s lover, and had long ago persuaded her to let him know when Miss Carrington had a quantity of jewelry in the house, that he might essay a robbery. The plan was simple. Estelle had promised to slip downstairs at three o’clock and raise a window for his entrance, and later, but before any one else was about, she was to slip down and lock it again. In the meantime, they assumed, the burglary would be quietly accomplished, their supposition being that Miss Carrington would be asleep in her bedroom, and the boudoir easy of access.
“You entered by the window, then, at what time?” asked Stone, who was doing most of the questioning.
“At quarter of four in the morning,” replied Bates, and all noted that this was shortly before the hour when Mrs. Frothingham saw through her field-glass a man leaving by the same window.
“You went directly up the stairs?”
“Yes; Estelle had often told me the lay of the rooms, and I went straight to the lady’s boodore.”
“You carried with you a ‘black-jack.’ Did you have murder in your heart?”
“That I did not! I took that, thinkin’ if the lady woke up and screamed, I’d just give her a tap that would put her to sleep without hurtin’ her at all, at all. I’m no murderer, Sir, and I’m confessin’ my attempt at burglary, and—and assault, so I won’t be accused of a greater crime.”
“That’s right, Bates, it’ll be better for you to be perfectly truthful. Now, what did you see when you entered the room?”
“I had stepped inside and shut the door before I saw anything, and then, I turned to see the lady’s face, but in the mirror. I was behind her, and in the glass I saw her smilin’ face, and of course, I thought she was alive, and that she saw me. I knew she’d scream in a minute, and the sight of all the jewels gleamin’ on her neck drove me fair crazy with greed, I suppose, and I up with my sandbag, and hit her head, not meanin’ to hit hard enough to kill her, but only to knock her unconscious-like.”