“I don’t see any significance in that,” said the young prosecutor.
“I simply want to find out if my boy has told me the truth,” said Mr. Walton. “This isn’t a trial, of course. When I have satisfied myself about certain matters I will ask the court to hear me. One more question, Mr. Horton—I mean Mr. Manners. Do you know the meaning of the word collop?”
“I never investigated it.”
“Well, I have investigated it,” said Mr. Walton, with the faintest twinkle in his eye. Hervey looked rather surprisedly at his stepfather. “It does not mean to steal. It means to earn or to get by the performance of a foolhardy act—what boys call a stunt. Do you know what a stunt is?”
“I suppose when I was knocked down⸺”
“You mean tripped.”
“Well, tripped. I suppose that was a stunt.”
“Exactly,” said Mr. Walton. “That’s all it was and nothing more. I have talked with boys and I find that if a boy jumps from a high fence to get another boy’s jack-knife, he collops it. It’s a long time since you and I were boys, Mr. Horton Manners,” Mr. Walton added with a smile. “Do you really want to charge this youngster with a felony?” he continued in a tone of quiet kindness. “Isn’t the case hard enough without that? Did you never perform a stunt?”
Oh, Hervey Willetts, if you had no thrill in that moment for the patient, kindly, harassed man—your friend and counselor; then indeed was there no hope for you! But he had a thrill. For the first time in all his life his eyes filled and brimmed over as he looked at the man who wanted only to make sure of him, to know that he was not dishonest; who could stand for anything save that.
“I think, your Honor,” said Mr. Walton quietly, “that this affair simmers down to a piece of mischief with an unintendedly serious consequence. I know, of course, about the recent affair of the fire. My boy gave himself up because he would not be despicable. He does not lie, much less steal. I believe the story he told me; that he thought the satchel contained a musical instrument and that he intended to blow it and cause panic to those gathered in the church. He saw the police officer, thought he was watched, and carried out the part of innocence by bringing the satchel home. It proved an elephant on his hands, a guilty burden to one really innocent. He told me he could not find this young man’s name in the ’phone book and it develops that the name is not there. I have here two men who saw him looking in the ’phone book in a lunch room near the station⸺”