Mr. Y. Don’t you think that may have been why the police had such a morbid fascination for him and why he was so frightened of knocking up against his fellow-men?
Mr. X. Yes.
Mr. Y. Do you still keep up with him?
Mr. X. No; and I don’t wish to. [Pause.] Would you have still kept up with him if he had been—convicted?
Mr. Y. Yes—like a shot. [Mr. Y. gets up and walks up and down.]
Mr. X. Sit still—why can’t you sit still?
Mr. Y. Where did you get your broad views of human conduct? Are you a Christian?
Mr. X. No—can’t you see that? [Mr. Y. Facial expression.] The Christian asks for forgiveness as I ask for punishment—to restore the balance, or whatever you call it. And you, my friend, who’ve done your little stretch, ought to know that quite well.
Mr. Y.[Is nervous and stunned. Looking at Mr. X. first with wild hate and then with wonder and admiration.] How— can —you—know—that?
Mr. X. I can see it.