“Well?” he said. “I got your message.”
Boyce took his cigar from his mouth.
“We have got a confession of the murder of Sir James.” If he expected Collins to show any feeling, he was disappointed.
“Who is it?” he said, quietly seating himself.
“A man called Jackson. He came into the Vine Street police station late last night and said he wished to give himself up for the murder.”
“Of course,” said Collins contemptuously, “we shall have plenty of them.”
“Wait a moment. This man is well known to the police. He has been in an asylum for years, but unfortunately his people got him certified sane, and had him out. He had homicidal tendencies. He has made a complete statement.”
“A statement from a lunatic. Really, Boyce.”
“Well, listen to this, then,” said Boyce, and spread a document out on the desk.
He began to read: