The Tale of Three Servants
“What a vile fabrication,” exclaimed the master. “I didn’t do this. It was someone else. Maybe my servants actually did it. Have you considered that? And what about the banker? Maybe the banker killed the youngest servant. After all, he couldn’t stand the sight of him. I’ll bet the banker saw the broken window in the front and decided that this was his opportunity to finally put an end to the youngest servant. Maybe he climbed in through the broken window last night and killed him.”
“That’s a nice story – it is,” the detective said, “but it’s not true. The banker was interested in the broken window because it hadn’t been fixed in such a long time. Your home and grounds were collateral for the loan that his bank had given you, and you weren’t taking care of them – as evidenced by this broken window. That made him curious … curious enough to come back later that night and take some photos of the broken window on his phone. Because, after all, if it was taking a long time to fix one small broken window, what did that say about the you, the master of the house? Either you were still heartbroken from the loss of your wife and didn’t care to fix it, or the broken window could a sign that you were running out of money – which meant that your loan to the bank was in jeopardy. No sir, the banker did not try to kill the youngest servant. He was simply doing his job.”
“And as for your servants – they didn’t do it either. And you know that. After you and your two servants found the dead body, they reached out for him – but you pretended to faint so they wouldn’t touch his body. You knew that the poison on his hands and mouth might kill them, too. And if it did, you wouldn’t have anyone to take the fall for you. It was another one of your selfish acts.”
“Now,” the detective whispered to the master, with a hint of disdain, “you have a choice. In one minute, I’m going to call the judge and get a warrant to open your precious vault. If you refuse to open the vault door after I get my warrant, I’ll have my safe cracker here in under an hour and she’ll open it for me. Then we’ll find out the truth. If there’s no money in there, as I suspect, you’ll be declared guilty by the judge and sent to a dark, dank prison to live out your remaining days among thieves like yourself. If, however, you confess now, the judge may show leniency. You may even get to see sunlight every once in a while. So, understand, this is your last chance. What is it going to be?”