“I’d like to ask,” said Russell, “what Crocker intended to do when he got inside the store.”
The Chief turned a displeased look on him. “Nothing at all, I understand, nothing at all. They—that is, he had no plan. It was merely a foolish prank, conceived hurriedly and carried out without—er—without reflection.”
“There were two of them in it, I think?” asked Russell.
“Two of them? Possibly, possibly.” The Chief frowned darkly. “Only one was apprehended, Mr. Emerson. As he refuses to state whether he had an accomp—a companion, that is, we are left in doubt. And since Mr. Pulsifer has decided not to prosecute the matter is of no importance. You are not, I think,” added the speaker suggestively, “the lessee of the premises?”
“No, but I sub-rent half the store, and—”
“Nothing has been stolen or damaged?”
“Not so far as I know,” acknowledged Russell.
“Of course not! Very well then!” The Chief was once more affable and was herding them toward the door. “Thank you for your visit, Mr. Pulsifer. The matter will be allowed to drop, and so, of course, I trust that neither you nor Mr. Emerson will discuss it with others. I have the boy’s promise, and his father’s, that nothing of the kind will happen again. Good morning!”
Saying good-by to the florist, Russell hurried back to school and an eleven o’clock recitation. At twelve he mounted to Number 27 and found Stick anxiously awaiting his account of the interview. Russell told what had happened, and Stick snorted. “Ha, that’s old man Crocker,” he said. “I suppose he’s got enough influence to get Billy off if he committed murder! J. Warren’s a spineless shrimp, if you ask me. Didn’t intend any mischief! Oh, no, not a bit! If J. Warren hadn’t been there those two would have put the place on the blink, I’ll bet! Maybe they wouldn’t have swiped anything: I don’t believe they meant to: but they’d have ruined a lot of our stock.”