“Here are several things that Mr. Burton, who is familiar with the preceding transactions, should pass upon, but as he is so seldom at the office, I have had no opportunity to lay them before him,” continued the ever vigilant Chapman, turning over a number of documents.
“I know even less than you do about Burton’s department, so make out the best way that you can under the circumstances.”
“Is Mr. Burton ill, sir, or what is the reason why he is absent from the office so much?” asked Chapman, to whom it seemed that the greatest deprivation in life must be loss of ability to be present daily in the office of J. Dunlap.
“I am utterly at a loss to explain Burton’s conduct, especially since our return from Haiti. He is morbid, melancholy, and seems to avoid the society of all those who formerly were his chosen associates and companions. He calls or sends here daily with religious regularity to ascertain the condition of Lucy’s health, and occasionally asks Jack to accompany him on a ride behind his fine team. You know that he is aware that Jack saved his life by taking the blow on his own breast that was aimed at Burton’s head. He was devoted to Jack on the voyage home and here, until Jack’s recovery was assured beyond a doubt, but now he acts so peculiarly that I don’t know what to make of him,” replied the perplexed old gentleman.
“Humph! Humph!” grunted Chapman, in a disparaging tone, and resumed the examination of the sheets of paper before him. Selecting one, he said:
“I find Malloy, the father of the girl, who was the victim of that nameless crime and afterward murdered, to be a respectable, worthy man, poor, but in need of no assistance. He is a porter at Brown Brothers. It appears that the girl, who was only fifteen years of age, was one of the nursery maids in the Greenleaf family, and had obtained permission to visit her father’s home on the night of the crime and was on her way there when she was assaulted.”
“What has been done by the Police Department?” asked Mr. Dunlap eagerly.
“To tell the truth, very little. The detectives seem mystified by a crime of so rare occurrence in our section that it has shocked the whole of New England. However, I know what would have happened had the crowd assembled around Malloy’s house when the body was brought home, been able to lay hands on the perpetrator of the deed, the whole police force of Boston notwithstanding.”
“What do you mean, David?”
“I mean that the wretch would have been lynched,” exclaimed Chapman.