“What sort of a man was it?” inquired Mr. Purdy, by way of diversion from the Anglesea question.
“He was a gentleman, I should think, though,” said the boy, apologetically. “He was a rather short, stout man with a red face and light hair. I saw that much, for when he went up to Norton the gas jet shone on him also, and I could see him plainly. He spoke with Norton for a few minutes, and then went back somewhere into the darkness. I thought maybe it was some one who wanted some little job of labels printed and Norton was doing it for him. So I came away and went home.”
“Was that all?”
“Not quite. When we went to the office on Monday we found it closed, though it was Norton’s place to have opened it an hour before. Father and I opened it, and I went to the press to begin to distribute the type, and found——”
The boy stopped to clear his throat again.
“Yes, yes, what did you find, my lad?”
“Why, that the first two columns of the first page were distributed.”
“Oh!”
“I wasn’t surprised at that a bit, and I never thought anything else about it but that he—Norton—had already begun to distribute the type, and had got that far and stopped. The rest of the type looked just as it had been set. Father and I distributed the rest.”
“See how it is now, so far as the act goes; but I can see no motive for it,” said the editor.