He then changed the subject and talked of trade in general, the coming winter, of the lighting of the streets, of the watch. And then of crime.
"Time was," said he, "when actual crime of any sort was rare among us. But, now, we've reached a point where even those of violence cause no more than a flurry. Take that affair of Magruder, now—an honest, thriving man. Someone enters his place while he is engaged with his work, and in an instant stops his life. The coroner's jury speaks harshly against the criminals and invites all law-abiding people to bring them to justice. But it will take more than a declaration of indignation and a summons to civic reprisal to effect any good. The persons guilty of this action are still at large and, from all appearances, are likely to remain so."
The little apothecary shook his head and looked perturbed.
"Dear, dear," said he. "A pretty pass, indeed. I suspect the safety of the streets, for all they are so well lit, and so told Monsieur Lafargue, as he went out to-night."
"He has gone out, then?" said Mr. Sparhawk, and there was interest in his face.
"A half-hour or more ago," replied Christopher. "And he seemed quite infirm, and made much use of his cane."
Mr. Sparhawk now made some trifling purchase and left the shop. Christopher returned to the back room. Tom was staring at the blaze through the open door of the stove; without turning his head, or shifting his eyes, he said:
"That was Sparhawk."
"Yes," said Christopher. "An agreeable person. He's considerate of everything and every one."
There was a little pause, and then Tom Horn said: