Squire Bates rose and paced the room thoughtfully.
"That is true," he said, after a pause, "but you must remember also that I should stand a better chance of being recognized in a large and important place, where there is a well disciplined and efficient police force and an organized body of detectives. No one would think of looking for me in a small, unimportant village like Waterford, where I pass as the village lawyer, and have a commission as justice of the peace."
"How do you sustain the part of a lawyer?"
"I have a few law books, and there was a time in earlier years—I think I was nineteen—when I passed six months in the office of a lawyer, where I picked up some of the rudiments of practical jurisprudence."
"Where was that?"
"In a Western town, not far from Chicago. Here no very complicated matters come before me. I am perfectly competent to draft a will, to write out a deed, make out a lease, and so on—that is all that is required of me."
"You must find it very dull living here. I couldn't stand it."
"I must live somewhere, and you must remember that I have a wife and son who are entirely ignorant of my real character."
"They suppose you to be a lawyer?"
"Yes."