One unreciprocated belief

In Baltimore, in a luxurious mansion, there dwells a wealthy gentleman with the title of James John Can. His confinement is solitary, which is appropriate because there are fantasies in his possession. Yet Vincent his son, thoroughly and aggressively untaken to that position, visits a little and encourages his father to improve the dwelling.

Mr. Can engages in writing, while his son parries and disengages. What I think he writes is what sorties from his fantasies. This possession of fairytales that I mentioned is the imaginary alteration of circumstances in his memory. The alterations automatically employed by his mind are not commonly accurate in the result. For this reason, my opinion would be given to such ramming supposition -- oh, but we know it.

James’s occupation would be despair for me. But when I discovered the unhappy condition of the Cans', I was entirely distressed to hear that Mr. James Can is now accused of murder of his friend within the Cans' own luxurious mansion! I was compelled to inquire in the affair. But to complete my magnificent despair, I found that Chapwill the dreadful detective was inquiring in the matter, too.

He greeted me as I set foot on the estate. “So you have come to help me, of course,” he said. “I pray that we have success in barraging and bebarring that criminal James John Can. It seems that in thought his name contains murder.”

“But, Chapwill,” I said, “what do you say -- ? Can there be an indication of his carnal devitilazation?"

“I am not certain what is indicated,” Chapwill replied. “But Mr. Can’s gun seems to have lost a piece of ammunition. And that ammunition seems to have left a footprint on the deceased. And the deceased seems to have perished because of that footprint.”

“That doesn’t indicate a thing,” I said.

“But consider the story,” he said. “Mr. Can, I am certain, admitted an unexpected guest into his residence before the murder occurred. This uninvited fellow, whose occupation will remain anonymous, required an outfit with which to appear before a certain body in a decent fashion.”

“What indicated that?”

“I must say,” answered Chapwill, “that it happened. But I do not know. Mr. Can owns the outfit worn by the victim as he deteriorates. And on the estate are the victim’s own rags. If he came to return the suit, I assume that in that action he would not be attached to it. He was a practical friend of Mr. Can’s, so he was not begrudged the expensive attire for one afternoon.”

“And what does Mr. Can say?”

“He was of course untruthful,” Chapwill said. “He says that a call came at the door as the visitor was dressing himself, and that he answered it. And that upon that answering, James believes himself to have been knocked down by a vicious fellow. This ‘vicious fellow’, as Can elaborately calls him, apparently shot the guest in succession.”

“But there is reasonable truth in what Can suggests is the fact,” I said. “The deceased was found in the outfit that is the property of Can’s. The deceased is known to be an acquaintance, if not intimate friend, of Mr. Can. And Can himself was found unrecuperated upon the entrance of his estate.”

“It is possible of course that Mr. Can will misconceive circumstances because of his occasional memory failures,” Chapwill said. “But I am certain that any offender accused of murder will display an equal if not more untruthful inability to recall events in convenient measures.”

“That is likely,” I said. “But what is known of the son’s activities as this took place?”

“It seems Vincent received a message in the mail delivering the information of his father’s death,” Chapwill said.

“His father’s death!” I said. “Why, Chapwill! this is an important idea! The murderer appears to believe that Mr. Can is currently napping with the mark of a bullet staining his priceless suit, although it is Mr. Can’s guest who has had this opportunity.”

“Vincent Can perceived the cry of his father as he came to the mansion. But he found him, of course, wholly alive, though suffering from apparent wounds,” Chapwill said.

“Did you ask him if he knew the victim?”

“I did,” replied Chapwill. “He did not know the fellow, I think. He had not seen him before.”

“Of course he hadn’t,” Sean said.

“I say, Sean,” Chapwill said. “Mr. Can’s guiltiness! I can’t yet prove this. I can’t arrive with a conclusion, in fact.”

“Of course you can’t,” he replied. “But I have arrived with myself. Chapwill, you forget the clue of unawareness.”

“But what has happened?” Chapwill said. “I did not know.”

“And what did Vincent not know?” Sean said.

“The antagonist,” I replied. “He deponed no recognition.”

“But, Sean!” Chapwill said, “what does this indicate?”

“The unawareness, of course,” Sean replied. “This unawareness would compel him to assure in security. But his apparent hostility to his father prevents him from appearing at the event without reason. Yet with a likely invention to his reason he might depart from suspicion.”

“Why, Sean,” I said, “the son’s immediate appearance has logical points. If his father’s cry was heard to him as he arrived, the message he received may have been transported before the murder.”

“I say!” Chapwill cried, “that is one point I had not considered.”

“Of course you hadn’t considered it,” Sean said, “because the message arrived after the occurrence.”

“The message arrived after!” exclaimed Chapwill. “How can it be possible, if he received it before he assured in security?”

“It was his prevention from appearing without reason that proposed he invent a message,” Sean said. “He transmitted his information as the situation called for. The method of conveying a blank sheet within an envelope to himself through his father’s private mailman was devised to allow him to fit the motive to match the urgency. Once the interviews with the individual policeman was done, it was necessary simply to open the letter and write down the terms that corresponded to the story he had testified to.”

“What do you say?” I said. “That he mailed himself a blank message?”

“I say that."

“And how can you prove it?”

“Chapwill has informed me of the testimonies,” he said, “and when I had achieved this understanding it required a mere consideration upon the sofas in his room of relaxation to deduce this conclusion. I immediately transformed to an unexpected guest at Mr. Vincent Can’s residence and advanced to a location challenging the passage to the mailroom with the communication that I was an officer. I requested that he exhibit the message. This he had insisted was the informant of the trouble at his father’s mansion. He conferred it upon me. It depicted the event in this way—‘Mr. Can has been killed while dressing’. The message he had dispatched described the occurrence too accurately. That Mr. Can’s guest would be mistaken for Can himself is a clever circumstance created by Vincent. But a message transmitted before the activities could not possibly know of a result as distinct as this.”

“But what do you conclude of the weapon?” Chapwill said. “It is significant evidence against James, of course. Who do you believe caused the ammunition to leave a footprint on the guest?”

“Vincent Can, I say,” Sean replied. “He had invented a motive for his arrival. If he found his father unrecuperated, he would assume that there was an antagonist. Clearly the visitor, as he was dressing himself, heard the cry of his host. Clad as he is now, he exited the room to discern the trouble. The reaction of Vincent Can, it is obvious. Observing the deceased as he emerged in Mr. Can’s outfit, he would determine this to be the antagonist. Taking from the vest of his nonparticipant father a gun, he employed it as he saw fit.”

“But who knocked down Mr. Can?” asked Chapwill.

“Why, Chapwill!” I said, “you remember those fantasies that he conveniently indulged in? His antagonist may have been one fantasy that actually appeared to be true! In reality he may have slipped on the tiles and hurt himself. I say, Sean, do you think Mr. Can would write a story about you?”