“Terence, if you’re going to read a book on the subject of psychology, you ought to learn to pronounce it.”
“Yes, sir. Could you tell me, so’s I kin remember?”
“Why, yes, it’s not difficult, once you know it.” And Judge Hoyt carefully taught the young seeker after knowledge how to pronounce the word in question.
“Well, now wouldn’t that jar you!” and Fibsy smiled, delighted at his own accomplishment. “All that fooled me was that P to begin it with. If it hadn’t been for that, I’d a loined it long ago. Well, I got that book, an’ it tells you how to know w’en a man’s a criminal an’ w’en he ain’t. An’ Mr. Landon, he’s too careless to be guilty.”
“Too careless to be guilty. What do you mean?”
“I mean, if he was guilty, he wouldn’t sling around his speech so free. He wouldn’t a told that he was in Van Cortlandt Park that day Mr. Trowbridge was killed. Nor he wouldn’t a owned up so free that he wanted money sumpun—something,—fierce. An’ he wouldn’t a taken his imprisonment so orful easy. He’d a been busy preparin’ alibis, an’ things like that.”
“How do you know these are his attitudes?”
“Pape. Every day there’s a guy writes a lot about the—psy—chology,—got it!—of crime, an’ spoke about Kane Landon bein’ a example of—of what I was a-talkin’ about.”
“But if Landon isn’t guilty, and I fervently hope he isn’t, then who is?”
“I dunno, Judge Hoyt,” and Fibsy’s freckled little face was very earnest. “But there’s a chap as can find out. Do you know Fleming Stone?”