“I was fairly caught,” he admitted. “How long have you been here?”
“Not long enough to hear any secrets,” replied the judge. “You were saying something about ‘one in a thousand’ when I came in, and it struck me as being a very natural remark for a young man in a trance.”
“It is one of my bad habits,” Brant confessed—“talking to myself, I mean. It began when I was a little fellow and lacked playmates.”
“It is a very common habit. I once knew an attorney who had it in a most peculiar form. His office was adjoining mine, and he would lock the door and discuss a case with himself. We used to laugh at him a good bit, but he was always the best-prepared man in court.”
All of which was quite beside the mark, as Brant well knew; but he made courteous answer, having it in mind to let his visitor pick his own way through the generalities. This the judge seemed to find very difficult, since he made several false starts before coming finally to the object of his visit. Brant set the hesitancy down to pardonable family pride, and stood ready to help when he should be given the chance. At length the judge came to the point and waded reluctantly into the domestic pool.
“I came down to thank you for what you did for us last night, Mr. Brant. My daughter has told me the circumstances, and it was exceedingly good of you to interest yourself in my poor boy.”
Brant said “Not at all,” meaning thereby that the service had been freely rendered, and the judge went on:
“It was a great relief to us all to find William safe at home this morning. He left us in anger, and I feel quite sure that we have you to thank for his return, though I am wholly in the dark as to how you managed it.”
Brant answered the implied question frankly.
“It was a very simple matter. I found your son in company with a man whose influence over him seems to be quite as great as it is sure to be bad. I happened to know this man, and I persuaded him to take the boy home.”