“What was that?” asked the lad, trembling with fear.
“Your conscience is quite wakeful, my boy. That was one of the men closing the windows for the night.”
The boy came over close to me so he could look into my face, and there was a depth of seriousness in his voice when he said, “So you think I ought to give myself up and take the consequences?”
“Three years in prison?” I asked, looking straight at the boy. “Three years in prison!”
The words of Jacob Riis flashed through my mind—“When a boy goes to prison, a citizen dies.”
“If you were in my place you would give yourself up?” he asked me pointedly.
I passed my hand across my eyes. Unlike the boy I had no cap with which to brush away the tears.
“My boy,” I said, “I will be honest with you—I would not give myself up.”
“What would you do?”