“That had been a disgrace to the Commonwealth of Massachusetts,” said the old gentleman warmly.
“That may or may not be, sir. Malloy and his friends are all peaceable, law-abiding citizens. Malloy was almost a maniac, not at the death of his child but the rest of the crime, and the agony of the heartbroken father was too much for the human nature of his neighbors, and human nature is the same in New England as elsewhere in our land.”
“But the law will punish crime and must be respected no matter what may be the provocation to ignore its regular administration of justice,” said Mr. Dunlap with a judicial air.
“Truth is, sir, that one can hardly comprehend a father’s feelings under such circumstances, and I don’t imagine there is a great difference between the paternal heart in Massachusetts and in Mississippi. Human nature is much alike in the same race in every clime. Men of the North may occasionally be slower to wrath but are fearfully in earnest when aroused by an outrage,” rejoined Chapman.
“I frankly confess, David, that I recognize that it is one thing for me to sit here calmly in my library and coolly discuss a crime in which I have no direct personal interest, and announce that justice according to written law only should be administered, but it would be quite a different state of mind with which I should regard this crime if one of my own family were the victim of the brute’s attack. I fear then I should forget about my calm theory of allowing the regular execution of justice and everything else, even my age and hoary head, and be foremost in seeking quick revenge on the wretch,” said the old New Englander hotly.
“Knowing you and your family as I do, sir, I’ll make oath that you would head the mob of lynchers.”
“My brother James, who was the soul of honor and a citizen of whom the Commonwealth was justly proud, was very liberal in his opinion of lynching for this crime. It was the single criminal act for which his noble, charitable heart could find no excuse. I think even my brother James, model citizen though he was, would have been a law-forgetting man under such circumstances.”
Old John Dunlap’s voice grew soft and tender when he mentioned the name of his beloved brother, and either Chapman became extraordinarily near-sighted or the papers in his hand required close scrutiny.
“I have published the notice of the reward of one thousand dollars offered by our house for the capture of the perpetrator of the crime,” said the Superintendent rather huskily, changing the subject from that of the character of his old master.