Apropos of the Sinners

by SpitFlame

Part VI – Chapter VII – The Interrogation

And now we return to Nova after that brief interlude.

He was sitting and staring around with wild eyes at those present, without understanding what was being said to him. Suddenly he rose, threw up his arms, and cried out loudly, "I'm not guilty! Of my father's blood I am not guilty! I wanted to kill him, but I didn't! Not me!"

But no sooner had he cried it than Bouquet jumped out from behind the curtains and collapsed before the police commissioner.

"It's me, me, I did this!" she cried, all in tears, stretching her arms out to everypony. "He did it for me! I tormented him and drove him to it inadvertently! It's all me, I'm the guilty one!"

"Yes, yes, you're the guilty one, you're the mastermind behind all this, you're the guiltiest of all!" yelled the police commissioner, shaking her hoof at her, but this time the prosecutor resolutely put his hoof her shoulder and even pulled her back a bit.

"This is entirely out of order, Ruby," he said, "you're positively hindering the investigation!"

"Measures have to be taken," put in the deputy commissioner, "otherwise it's impossible to judge this right."

"Judge us together!" Bouquet went on exclaiming, still bent down on the floor. "Punish us together, I'll go with him to the dungeons for life!"

"Bouquet, please, wait!" Nova threw himself to the floor beside her and caught her tightly in his arms. "Don't believe her," he shouted, "she's not guilty of anything, of any blood, or anything!"

But several guards pulled him away from her by force, she was suddenly taken out.

When he came to his senses, he was already sitting at the table. Beside him and behind him stood ponies with badges. On the sofa across from him, Honey Heart, the district attorney, sat trying to persuade him to sip some water from a glass that stood on the table.

"It'll refresh you, it'll calm you down," she kept saying with practiced courtesy and politeness.

On the left, at Nova's side the prosecutor sat down, and to Nova's right, a blue-coated pegasus stallion, very young, in front of whom there was an inkstand and some paper. He turned out to be the district attorney's clerk, who had come with her. The police commissioner now stood near the window, at the other end of the room, next to Cold Leg, who was sitting in a chair by the same window.

"Drink some water," repeated the attorney soothingly for what seemed like the tenth time.

"I drank some, Ms. Heart, I drank some... but... come, mares and gentlecolts, punish me, decide my fate!" exclaimed Nova, staring with bulging eyes at the district attorney, Honey Heart.

"So you positively assert that you're not guilty of the death of Bronze Pocket?" she asked calmly but insistently.

"Not guilty! I'm guilty of another blood, but not my father's. And I weep for it! I killed, I killed the servant, I struck him down! But it's hard to answer for this other blood. A terrible accusation, my good ponies, as if you'd stunned me on the head! But who killed my father, who could have killed him if not me? I wonder at that absurdity!"

"Yes, who could have killed him..." the district attorney began.

But the prosecutor, Ace Mark (the deputy prosecutor, but for the sake of brevity we shall call him just the prosecutor), exchanging glances with the district attorney, said, turning to Nova, "You needn't worry about the old servant, Shovel Rod. I can tell you that he's recovered and is alive, despite the severe beating inflicted by you, according to his and now your own evidence. It seems he will undoubtable live, at least in the doctor's opinion."

"Alive? So he's alive?" Nova suddenly shouted, his whole face lighting up. "Thank goodness, I thank you for this greatest miracle, which you have done for me, a sinner and evildoer, according to my fervent wishes! Yes, yes, it's all according to my wishes, I was wishing all night!" And he clasped his hooves together. He was nearly breathless.

"And it's from this same Shovel Rod that we have received such hard evidence regarding you, that—" the prosecutor went on, but Nova suddenly jumped up from his chair.

"One moment, everypony, just one moment; I'll run to her..."

"Sorry! Right now that'd be impossible!" the attorney raised her voice, and she, too, jumped to her hooves. The ponies with badges laid hold of Nova, but he sat down on the chair himself.

"What a pity!" he said. "I wanted to see her for just one moment. I wanted to announce to her that this blood that was gnawing at my heart all night has been washed away, and I'm no longer a murderer! She's my fiancée!" he suddenly spoke ecstatically and reverently, looking around at them all. "Oh, thank you. Oh, how you've restored me!"

"And so you..." began the district attorney.

"Sorry, Ms. Heart, just one more minute," he interrupted, putting both elbows on the table and covering his face with his hooves, "let me collect myself a little, let me catch my breath. It's all terribly shocking."

"Have some more water," she muttered.

Nova looked up and laughed. His look was rather cheerful; he had quite changed, as it were, in a moment. And his whole tone was changed: here now sat a pony once again the equal of all these other ponies in badges, of all these previous acquaintances of his, exactly as if they had all come together the day before, when nothing had happened yet, somewhere at a social gathering. But this friendly display was not shared. Some of them even frowned.

"You, Honey Heart, are, I can see, a most skillful investigator," laughed Nova, "but now I will help you myself. Oh, really, I have been restored, resurrected... and do not take it amiss that I address you so casually and directly. Besides, I'm a little drunk, I admit. I believe I have the honour of meeting you... But please, I do not claim to be equal, I quite understand who I am now, as I sit here before you. A horrible suspicion hangs over me. If dear old Shovel has given evidence regarding me... then of course, oh, of course it hangs over me! Horrible—this I understand! But—anyway—to business, I'm ready to get to work. You see, if I know I am not guilty, then of course we can make short work of it, eh? Can't we?"

Nova spoke much and quickly, nervously and expansively, and as if he decidedly took his listeners for his best friends.

"So, for now we'll write down that you completely deny the accusation brought against you," said the attorney imposingly, and, turning to her clerk, she dictated in a low voice what he was to write down specifically.

"You want to write it down? Well, write it down then, I consent, I give my total consent. Only, you see... Wait, wait, write it down like this: 'Of violence, guilty; of savagely beating a poor old stallion, guilty; and within himself, he, a horrible sinner, guilty!' But... uh, there's no need to write that down..." He turned suddenly to the clerk. "That is my private life, that doesn't concern you now, the bottom of my heart, I mean. But the murder of his father, not guilty! It's an utterly wild idea! I'll prove it to you and you'll be convinced immediately. You'll all laugh, mares and gentlecolts. You'll roar with laughter at your own suspicion!"

"Calm down, Nova Steel," said the attorney, apparently as if she wished to subdue the frenzied earth pony with her own calmness. "Before continuing the interrogation, I should like to hear from you a confirmation of the fact that you seem to have disliked the late Bronze Pocket, and were in some sort of permanent dispute with him. Here, in any case, not too long ago, I believe you were even pleased to say that you wanted to kill him. Not that you did, but that you explicitly wanted to."

"I said that? Ah, maybe I did, Honey Heart. Yes, unfortunately I wanted to kill him, wanted to many times..."

"You wanted to. Would you be willing to explain what principles guided you in this hatred for your own father?"

"What's there to explain?" Nova shrugged gloomily, looking down. "I've never hid my feelings, the whole town of Ponyville knows of it—everypony in the tavern knows. Recently, on the day of this year's Summer Sun Celebration, I beat my father and nearly killed him, and swore in front of witnesses that I would come back and kill him. Oh, there's many witnesses! I've been shouting for a long time about it now, everypony knows it. The fact is right there, the fact speaks, but—feelings are something else. You see"— Nova frowned —"it seems to me that you have no right to question me about my feelings. You are empowered, I understand that, but this is my own personal business. But... since I haven't hidden my feelings before... in the tavern, for instance, but talked of it to all and sundry, so I won't... I won't make a secret of it now. You see, Honey Heart, I quite understand that the evidence is stacked against me: I told everypony I would kill him, and suddenly he is killed. Who else but me in that case? Ha, ha! I don't blame you at all, mares and gentlecolts. I must ask, where was he killed? How was he killed?" he asked quickly, looking at the prosecutor and district attorney.

"We found him lying on his back, on the floor of his study, with the side of his head smashed in," said the prosecutor.

"How horrible!" Nova suddenly shuddered, leaning in on the table.

"Let's continue," said Honey Heart. "What, then, led you in your feeling of hatred? I believe you have announced publicly that it was a matter of an inheritance unfairly kept from you? A dispute about money?"

"Yes, about money."

"The dispute seems to have been over five thousand bits, allegedly due to you. Is that correct?"

"Five thousand, hah! It was more, more"— Nova heaved himself up —"more than ten, maybe more than twenty. I told everypony, I shouted it to everypony! But I decided to let it settle for a mere five thousand. I desperately needed that five thousand... the little chest containing it, the existence of which he had let slip to me. I considered it stolen from me, I considered it mine, just as if it was my own property."

The prosecutor exchanged meaningful glances with the district attorney and managed to wink at her unobserved.

"We'll come back to that subject later," she said at once. "For now, I'll take note of this point and write it down: that you considered the money in that chest as your own property."

"Write it down, I quite understand it is one more piece of evidence against me, but I'm not afraid of evidence and even testify against myself. Do you hear, against myself! You see, you seem to be taking me for quite a different pony," he added suddenly, with a glum expression. "I happen to have done many mean things in this world, but do not lose sight of this—above all, not this—I have remained a most noble pony, one inside of whom is his depths... well, in short, I don't know how to say it. This is precisely what has tormented me all my life. Ah, my head aches." He winced with pain. "You see, I did not like his appearance, it was somehow dishonourable, boastful, trampling on all that's good, mockery and evilness, loathsome! But now that he's dead, I think differently."

"How differently?"

"Not differently, but I guess I don't hate him as much now."

"So you feel regret?"

"No, not really regret, don't write that down. I'm not good myself, that's the thing, I'm not so beautiful myself, and therefore I had no right to consider him repulsive, that's the thing. Perhaps... perhaps you can write that down."

Having said this, Nova suddenly became very sad. Gradually, for some time now, as he answered the district attorney's questions, he had been growing more and more glum.

"Would you permit me, if you could, to see Bouquet again?" he asked all of a sudden. "Where is she? I'd like to meet with her."

"She's downstairs, being questioned," said the prosecutor. "What do you want with her? She's innocent."

But this time the police commissioner stepped up, and in a loud voice said to the prosecutor, "Would you permit me to say just one thing to this stallion? It would be in your presence."

"As you wish, Ruby Spirit," answered the district attorney, "in the present case we have nothing against you."

"Listen, Nova Steel," she began, turning to Nova, "I myself took Bouquet Rose downstairs and gave her over to the innkeeper's daughters, and I talked with her, understand? I talked with her and calmed her down, and I told her that you need to clear yourself and remain free from distractions, otherwise you may get confused and give wrong evidence against yourself, understand? She's a smart mare, you shouldn't worry about her, and, like Ace Mark said, she's innocent. She even told me to tell you that you shouldn't worry."

The police commissioner said much more than was necessary, but the grief displayed by both Bouquet and Nova started to get to her, in spite of her initial disdain for him. She gave Nova a few taps on the shoulder and retreated.

"Oh, you're right!" he said. "She's such a wonderful soul, I thank you for her! Very well, I'll be cheerful, tell her in the infinite kindness of your soul that I am cheerful, cheerful, I'll even start laughing now. I'll finish with all of this now, and the moment I'm free, I'll go to her at once, she'll see, she must wait! Alright then, let us continue!"

He collected himself at once, having gotten teary-eyed. The commissioner was very pleased, and so the jurists seemed to be, too: they felt that the interrogation was now entering a new phase.

"Well, mares and gentlecolts, now I am yours, yours completely. And... if only it weren't for all these small details, we would come to an understanding at once. I swear, we must have mutual trust—you in me, and I in you—otherwise we'll never finish. I'm saying it for your sake. To business, and above all don't go digging around in my soul so much, don't torment it with trifles, but keep to the point, to the facts, and I'll satisfy you at once. Forget the small details!" so Nova exclaimed.

"We find that very encouraging to hear, Nova Steel, thank you for your readiness," Honey Heart started saying, with an animated look and with visible pleasure shining in her eyes, from which she had just removed her spectacles a moment before. "And you've made a very just observation concerning our mutual confidentiality, without which it's sometimes impossible to proceed in matters of such importance, in the case and sense that the suspected pony is able to vindicate themselves. For our part, we will do everything possible to conduct this case efficiently. Do you approve, Ace Mark?" she asked, turning to the prosecutor.

"I do," the prosecutor approved, though somewhat dryly compared to Honey Heart.

I will note once and for all that on the way to Baltimare, the ponies in badges had time to make arrangements for the impending case, and now, at the table, the sharp mind of Honey Heart caught and understood every indication, every movement in the face of her older colleague, from half a word, a look, a wink of the eye.

"My fellow investigators, give me leave to tell my own story and do not interrupt me with trifles, and I will lay it all out to you in no time," said Nova, clenching his jaw.

"Excellent, thank you," said the district attorney. "But before we go on to hear your account, allow me simply to mention one more little fact, an interesting one, namely, that antique crossbow you pawned to your friend Sharp Heat for two hundred bits."

"I pawned it, true. What of it? As soon as I got back to town from my trip, I took it back."

"Got back? So you had left Ponyville?"

"I did. I was in Fillydelphia. I was in the Flying Rift... during the incident..."

"Ah." She nodded understandingly. "My condolences. That truly was a tragic event, and I'm glad you're safe now. Anyway, suppose you begin your story with a systematic description of your whole day yesterday, starting from the morning. Let us know, for example, why you came to Ponyville at the time that you did."

"But you should have asked me that from the very beginning," laughed Nova loudly. He at once began to relay the whole account of his previous day, when he got up in the morning, had decided that his previous five thousand was lost during the train attack, the meeting with Bouquet's maid, and so on and so forth.

"Allow me to interrupt," the prosecutor interjected, "why did you so suddenly need precisely that five thousand?"

"Eh, please, why pick on such little things: how, when, and why, and precisely this much money and not that much, and all that hogwash... if you keep on, it'll take you eight volumes and an epilogue to cram it all in."

All this Nova said with the good-natured but impatient familiarity of a pony who wishes to tell the whole truth and is full of the best intentions.

"Anyway," he caught himself, as it were, "don't murmur against me for my raggedness. I ask you again: believe once more that I feel the utmost respect and fully understand the situation. And don't think I'm drunk. I've sobered up now. And it would be no hindrance if I were drunk, because that's how I am. Ha, ha! I see it's not proper on my part to start cracking jokes with you yet—that is, before we've explained everything.

"Allow me to keep my dignity. I quite understand the present difference: I'm still sitting before you as a criminal, and, therefore, unequal to you in the highest degree, and your duty is to watch me: you really can't pat me on the back for Shovel Rod, one certainly can't go breaking old servants' heads with impunity, you'll probably try me and lock me up for, what, six months or a year in the penitentiary for that, or, I don't know, whatever the sentence would be—but without loss of rights, it will be without loss of rights, won't it, prosecutor? And so... I quite understand the difference. But you must agree that you could confuse these questions: where I stepped, what I stepped in... I'll get confused that way, and you'll pick up every dropped stitch and write it down at once, and what will come of it? Nothing! And finally, since I've already begun telling my tale, I'll finish it now, and you, mares and gentlecolts, being most noble and highly educated, will forgive me.

"I'll end precisely with a request: you must unlearn this official method of interrogation, I mean, first you begin, say, with something measly and insignificant: how did you get up, what did you eat, how did you spit, and having lulled the suspect's attention, you suddenly catch them with a stunning question, 'Who did you kill, or rob'? Ha, ha! That's your official method, so to speak. It's what all your cleverness is based on! I understand the system, I was in the service myself, ha, ha! You're not angry with me, are you? You'll forgive my boldness?" he cried, looking at them with almost surprising good-naturedness.

Honey Heart listened and laughed, too. The prosecutor, though he did not laugh, was studying Nova intently, without taking his eyes off him, as if not wishing to miss the least word, the least movement of his face.

"Incidentally, that's how we began with you from the beginning," she said, still laughing, "not confusing you with questions about how you got up in the morning, but from the essentials."

"I understand and appreciate it! And I appreciate still more your present kindness to me, which is unprecedented, worthy of the noblest souls. We are all noble here, and let everything with us be based on mutual trust, bound by nobility and honour. In any case, allow me to look upon you as my best friend in this moment of my life, in this moment when my honour is humiliated. That's no offence to you, is it?"

"Not at all, you've expressed it very well, Nova Steel," Honey Heart gravely and approvingly agreed.

"And away with little details, with all these petty details," Nova went on, "otherwise who knows what will come of it, isn't that so?"

"I'll follow your sensible advice," the prosecutor suddenly mixed in, addressing Nova. "However, I still won't withdraw my question. It's all too necessary for us to know why precisely you needed such an amount—that being the five thousand."

"Why I needed it? Well, you know, for this and that... well, to repay a debt..."

"Repay a debt to whom?"

"That I positively refuse to tell you, good sir! You see, it's not that I cannot tell you, or don't dare, or am afraid, because it's all a paltry matter and perfectly trifling. No, I won't tell you on principle: it's my private life, and I will not allow you to invade my private life. This is my principle. Your question is irrelevant to the case, and whatever is irrelevant to the case is my private life! I wanted to repay a debt, a debt of honour, but to whom I won't say."

"Fine then, we'll write that down," said the prosecutor.

"As you wish. Write down this: that I just won't say. Write that I even consider it dishonourable to say. You've got lots of time for writing, haven't you?"

"Let me caution you and remind you once more, in case you're still unaware of it," said the prosecutor with particular and rather stern respectableness, "that you have every right not to answer the questions that are put to you now, and we have no right to extort answers from you, should you decline to answer for one reason or another. It's a matter of consideration on your behalf. On the other hoof, it is our business to point out to you and explain the full extent of the harm you'll be doing yourself by refusing to speak. In this regard, I ask you to continue."

"My fellow investigators, I'm not angry... I..." Nova started mumbling, somewhat taken aback by this reprimand. "You see, when the first attempt at an agreement backfired..."

I will not, of course, reproduce his detailed account of what is already known to you. I am starting to get impatient in my task to tell everything in the smallest particulars, and at the same time I wish to get through it quickly. But his evidence was being written down as he gave it, and therefore he necessarily had to be stopped. Nova objected but submitted, was angry, but so far good-naturedly. True, from time to time he cried out, "Please, what's the point of this?" or "Don't you know you're irritating me for nothing?" But despite his exclamations, he still preserved his friendly and expansive mood.

He explained everything again from the beginning, this time including his brother and sister, as well as describing in detail his jealous torments over Bouquet. Little by little he became more gloomy. He was listened to silently and attentively; they particularly went into the circumstance of his having long ago set up to go risk everything in the Luna Bay casino. All this information was written down.

Of his jealously he spoke ardently and extensively, and though inwardly ashamed at displaying his most intimate feelings, so to speak, "for general disgrace," he obviously tried to overcome his shame for the sake of being truthful. The indifferent sternness of the district attorney's and the prosecutor's eyes, which they kept fixed on him during his account, disconcerted him in the end rather strongly.

And so, everything was carefully written down. At the end of it the attorney brought his antique crossbow to the table and laid it before him.

"So is this your crossbow?" asked Honey Heart, analyzing it herself.

"Ah, yes!" Nova grinned gloomily. "Let me see it... or don't, never mind!"

"You forgot to mention why you brought it with you," she observed.

"Ah, of course, it completely slipped my memory. I wouldn't hide anything from you, would I?"

"In that case, could you tell us in detail why you bought it back from the artillery captain Sharp Heat, loaded and everything?"

"What purpose? No purpose! I just got it back, because it belonged to me."

"But why, if there was no purpose? I mean, you were in a hurry to get to Baltimare, weren't you? Why stop for this thing?"

Nova started to huff angrily and looked fixedly at the clerk, grinning gloomily. The thing was that he felt more and more ashamed of having just told "such ponies" the story of his jealousy, so sincerely and with such effusion.

"I spit on that crossbow," suddenly escaped him.

"Even so..."

"I bought it back because it was mine. Or because it was dark. Or just in case."

"And has it always been a habit of yours to carry a crossbow around when going out at night, since you're apparently so afraid of the dark?"

"Argh, to tartarus! It's literally impossible to talk to you!" Nova cried out in the utmost annoyance, and turning to the clerk, all red with anger, with a sort of frenzied note in his voice, said quickly to him, "Take this down: 'I got the crossbow back to kill my father, Bronze Pocket, then to kill myself!' Well, are you content now? Have I satisfied your curiosity?" he said, staring defiantly at the ponies before him.

"We realize that you've given such evidence against yourself just now because you're annoyed with us and annoyed by the questions we put to you, which you regard as petty, even though they're quite essential," said the prosecutor dryly. "Besides, what you said doesn't even add up. How could you have used the crossbow to kill your father if you obtained it after leaving his house for the final time?"

"For pity's sake, what does it matter? So I took it. That's all. Shame on you, good sir—or I swear I won't say anything more!"

Nova leaned his elbow on the table and propped his head on his hoof. He was sitting sideways to them, looking at the wall, and trying to overcome the bad feeling inside him. In fact, he really had a terrible urge to declare that he was not going to say another word.

"You see, mares and gentlecolts," he suddenly spoke, overcoming himself with difficulty, "you see, I'm listening to you and imagining... You see, this is all a tragedy. I'm the cockatrice, and you're the hunters—to hunt the cockatrice down."

"You really shouldn't make such comparisons," said Honey Heart very softly.

"Why shouldn't I, huh? Why shouldn't I!" Nova boiled up again, though he had apparently unburdened his soul with this outburst of sudden anger and was growing kinder again with every word. "You may disbelieve a criminal or a prisoner in the dock whom you're tormenting with your questions, but to disbelieve the noblest pony, the noblest impulses of the soul—no! That you cannot do... you even have a right to... but anyway, shall I go on?" he broke off gloomily.

"Of course, if you're willing," said Honey Heart.

Though Nova began speaking sternly, he apparently was trying all the more not to forget or skip over the least detail in his account. He told how he had jumped over the fence into his father's garden, how he went up to the window, and, finally, everything that took place under the window. Clearly, as though hammering it out, he spoke of his feelings that had troubled him during those moments in the garden, when he had wanted so terribly to know whether or not Bouquet was "alright," that is to say, taken by her former one.

But, strangely, this time both the prosecutor and the district attorney somehow listened with terrible reserve, and looked at him dryly, asking far fewer questions. Nova could gather nothing from their faces.

They're angry and offended, he thought. Well, to tartarus with them!

When he told them of the moment he tapped on the window, and he saw his father leaning out, he described the hatred that boiled within him. Then he suddenly stopped. He sat and looked at the wall, knowing they both had their eyes on him.

"So then what?" asked the district attorney.

"Then? Oh, then I killed him, smashed him on the side of the head. That's your version anyway!" He suddenly flashed his eyes. All the wrath that had almost died out in him suddenly rose up in his heart.

"Our version," she repeated. "What's yours?"

Nova lowered his eyes and was silent for a long time.

"My version... is this," he began softly. "Whether it was somepony's tears, or the bright spirit of Princess Celestia herself watching over me, I don't know—but that murderous intent in me was overcome. I still broke in, hit him, and reclaimed my five thousand. But I made sure, I very carefully inspected—he was still alive, breathing, only half-conscious and groaning. There was practicably no blood at all, and the side of his face was certainly not smashed in. No, he was very much alive. Then I dashed away from the window and ran to the fence. Father must have gotten up the moment I left, because I remember him catching sight of me, and that he had cried out; he was sluggishly leaning out the window, then he jumped back. I remember that very well. And I ran through the garden to the fence... it was here that Shovel Rod caught up with me, when I was already escaping."

At this point he finally raised his eyes to his listeners. They seemed to be looking at him with completely untroubled attention. A sort of twinge of indignation went through Nova.

"But I see right now you're laughing at me!" he said suddenly.

"Why come to that conclusion?" remarked Honey Heart.

"You don't believe a word of it, that's why! I quite understand that I've come to the main point: the old stallion is now lying there with his head, or face, or temple, or whatever smashed in, and I—having tragically described how I wanted to kill him—I suddenly run away from the window. A poem! In verse! Take the good pony's word for it! Ha, ha! You're all scoffers!"

And he swung his whole body around on the chair so hard that it creaked.

"And did you notice," began the prosecutor in an even voice, as if paying no attention to Nova's excitement, "did you notice, when you broke in, whether or not the door in your father's room was open?"

"No, it was not open."

"No?"

"Not open at all, it was shut. Who could have opened it? Pah, the door—wait!" He suddenly seemed to collect himself and all but jumped up. "Did you find the door open?"

"Yes, we found it open."

"But who could have opened it, if you didn't open it yourselves?" Nova was terribly surprised.

"The door was open, and your father's murderer undoubtably entered the room from there and, having committed the murder, went out the window to escape," the prosecutor spoke slowly and distinctly, as though emphasizing each word. "We're still examining the scene, but so far not a single trace of magical residue has been found in the area, meaning there was likely no magic used, either to move things around via levitation, or to teleport, or anything like that. It's perfectly clear to us. The murder obviously took place in the room, which is positively clear from the investigation carried out, from the position of the body, and everything else. There can be no doubt of that circumstance."

"But that's impossible!" he cried out, astounded and completely at a loss. "I... I didn't go in through the door... I tell you with exactness that the door was shut the whole time. I remember it being shut when I saw it through the window. Are you sure... eh, sure it was not Shovel Rod who opened the door, after I left? Perhaps he went in to see if father was alright?"

"Not likely. When we got there the servant Shovel Rod was lying on the ground, completely bloodied and unconscious."

"What about the other servants! Sandy, for instance?"

"No pony else was on the premises at the time of the murder, from what we've gathered."

"Well, in that case... damn windigos killed my father!" suddenly escaped Nova, who was in extraordinary and spiteful agitation.

The prosecutor shot the attorney a dubious, sidelong glance. He was clearly thinking something over.

"We'll, uh, return to this fact later," resolved Honey Heart, "and now, wouldn't you like to go on with your evidence?"

Nova asked for a break. It was politely granted. Having rested, he began to go on. But it was obviously difficult for him. He was worn out, insulted, and morally shaken. Besides, the prosecutor, now quite intentionally, began irritating him every moment by pestering him with "details." As soon as Nova described how, going over the fence, he had kicked Shovel Rod, who was clutching his leg, on the head, perhaps out of instinct, and then jumped down at once to the stricken old pony, the prosecutor stopped him and asked him to describe in greater detail. Nova was surprised.

"You must have kicked him pretty hard," said the prosecutor.

"Yes, I kicked hard—but what do you need that for?"

"Why don't you tell us how you kicked? Act it out visually for us, for the sake of clarification."

"You're not mocking me, are you?" asked Nova, glancing haughtily at his interrogator, but the latter did not even bat an eye. Nova got up from his seat, placed his fore-hooves on the table, turned aside a bit, raised his right hind-leg, and kicked out.

"That's how I hit him! That's how! Anything else?" he seethed out, sitting back down on his chair.

"Thank you. Now may I ask why you bothered to go back and check the servant? What purpose had you in mind?"

"Pah! To tartarus! I went back to Shovel Rod... I don't know why!"

"Even though you were running away, and specifically 'running out of time,' as you described?"

"Yes, running away..."

"Did you want to help him?"

"Help him, hah! Well, maybe also to help him, I forget."

"You forgot? Did you go unconscious or something?"

"Oh, no, not unconscious at all, I remember everything, to the last shred. I went back to look at him, to see the blood, to see if I could wipe it."

"Hmm. Did you hope to bring him back to life?"

"I don't know if I hoped for anything. I simply wanted to make sure if he was alive or not."

"Ah, so you wanted to make sure. And did you?"

"I'm not a doctor, I couldn't tell. I ran away thinking I'd killed him, but he recovered."

"Thank you, sir," concluded the prosecutor. "That's just what I wanted. Please continue."

Unfortunately, it did not even occur to Nova to tell them, though he remembered it, that he had gone to check on Shovel Rod out of pity, and that standing over the murdered stallion he had even uttered those tearful words.

The prosecutor drew just one conclusion, that Nova would only have delayed to check "at such a moment and in such a hurry" with the purpose of making completely sure whether the sole witness to his crime was alive or not. He was a very resolute and cold-blooded pony, in my opinion. The prosecutor was pleased, thinking, I irritated the morbid fellow with "details" and he gave himself away.

Nova went on painfully, but he was again stopped at once, this time by Honey Heart.

"How could you have run to Sharp Heat, and throughout Ponyville for that matter, with your face and body so covered in blood?" she asked.

"But I didn't notice it at the time that there was any blood on me!" replied Nova dismally.

"That's plausible, it can happen," said the prosecutor, exchanging looks with Honey Heart.

Next came the story of Nova barging into the tavern, meeting up with Bouquet and the rest, and having his feast. Then the question of the crossbow was brought up once more.

"So I decided to kill myself. Why should I go on living? Naturally that jumped into the picture. Her offender arrived, the former one, and he came riding to her with love, after many years, to end the offence with legal marriage. So I realized that it was all over for me... And behind me was disgrace, and that blood, Shovel Rod's blood... So why live? I went to redeem the pawned crossbow, to load it, and to put a bolt in my brain at dawn..."

"And the feast?"

"And the feast? Eh, to tartarus, let's get it over with quicker. I was certainly going to shoot myself, not far from here, just outside town, and I would have disposed of myself at about six o'clock in the morning."

"And didn't you think of washing yourself off before entering Sharp Heat's home? In other words, you weren't afraid of arousing suspicion?"

"What suspicion? Suspicion or not, all the same I'd have flown here and shot myself at six o'clock, and there would have been no time to do anything about it. If it weren't for what happened to my father, you wouldn't have found anything out and come here. Oh, forget it, fate is punishing me, it was fate that let you find out so soon! How in Equestria did you get here so soon? It's a wonder!"

"Captain Sharp Heat told us that when you came to him, you were carrying a lot of bits, and that you were bloodstained all over."

"Yes, that's true, I remember."

"Now one little question arises. Would you mind informing us," Honey heart began with incredible leniency, "as to how you knew where your father was hiding the chest with the five thousand?"

"No, I won't!" Nova turned all stubborn suddenly, crossing his arms and looking away. "You know, you're both afraid now: what if he won't tell us more? And so it is: I won't tell you, ladies"— he looked at the district attorney —"gentlecolts"— then at the prosecutor —"you'll never know!" he hammered out with great determination. The investigators fell silent for a moment.

"Understand, Mr. Nova Steel, that it's an essential necessity that we know this," said Honey Heart softly and humbly.

"I understand, but I still won't tell you."

The prosecutor intervened and again reminded him that a pony under interrogation was of course at liberty not to answer questions if they thought it more beneficial, and so on, but in view of the harm the suspect might do to themselves by keeping silent, and especially in view of questions of such importance—

"And so on and so on! Enough, I've heard the whole speech already!" Nova again interrupted. "I'm not telling."

"What's it to us, sir?" remarked Honey Heart nervously. "It's not our business but yours. You'll only be harming yourself."

But Nova remained stubbornly quiet.

"Could you not, at the very least, give us some slight hint as to what sort of compelling motives might force you to keep silent—and at a moment so dangerous for you in your evidence?"

Nova smiled sadly and somehow pensively.

"I am much kinder than you think, Ms. Honey Heart. I've been putting up with your game for far too long now. I tell the truth and you ponies 'write it down,' you pick up every stitch. There's no need dirtying myself. I've already dirtied myself enough on you. You're not worthy, you or anypony else. I'm done."

This was said all too resolutely. Honey Heart almost winced and stopped insisting, but she saw at once from a glance at Ace Mark, the prosecutor, that he had not yet lost hope.

"Could you not at least state how many bits was in your possession when you came with it to captain Sharp Heat's place—exactly how many bits?"

"No, I cannot."

"I believe you made some statement to Mr. Sharp Heat about five thousand bits that you supposedly got from the librarian, Olva Velvet?"

"Maybe I did, maybe I didn't. Enough, I won't tell you how much."

"In that case, will you kindly describe when the coachpony was present when you came here?"

"No."

There was not much else they could do. They decided to end the interrogation.

"I must inform you," said Honey Heart, "that we will be taking in your saddlebag, alongside all the remaining bits inside, as part of the physical evidence."

Even as the guards came to take him away, Nova wore an expression of unusual importance; and all the while a solicitous debate went on in half-whispers between the district attorney and the prosecutor. Every other pony in the tavern eventually went home.