“I find Malloy, the father of the girl, who was the victim of that nameless crime and afterward murdered, to be a respectable, worthy man, poor, but in need of no assistance. He is a porter at Brown Brothers. It appears that the girl, who was only fifteen years of age, was one of the nursery maids in the Greenleaf family, and had obtained permission to visit her father’s home on the night of the crime and was on her way there when she was assaulted.” “What has been done by the Police Department?” asked Mr. Dunlap eagerly. “To tell the truth, very little. The detectives seem mystified by a crime of so rare occurrence in our section that it has shocked the whole of New England. However, I know what would have happened had the crowd assembled around Malloy’s house when the body was brought home, been able to lay hands on the perpetrator of the deed, the whole police force of Boston notwithstanding.” “What do you mean, David?” “I mean that the wretch would have been lynched,” exclaimed Chapman. “That had been a disgrace to the Commonwealth of Massachusetts,” said the old gentleman warmly. “That may or may not be, sir. Malloy and his friends are all peaceable, law-abiding citizens. Malloy was almost a maniac, not at the death of his child but the rest of the crime, and the agony of the heartbroken father was too much for the human nature of his neighbors, and human nature is the same in New England as elsewhere in our land.” “But the law will punish crime and must be respected no matter what may be the provocation to ignore its regular administration of justice,” said Mr. Dunlap with a judicial air. “Truth is, sir, that one can hardly comprehend a father’s feelings under such circumstances, and I don’t imagine there is a great difference between the paternal heart in Massachusetts and in Mississippi. Human nature is much alike in the same race in every clime. Men of the North may occasionally be slower to wrath but are fearfully in earnest when aroused by an outrage,” rejoined Chapman. “I frankly confess, David, that I recognize that it is one thing for me to sit here calmly in my library and coolly discuss a crime in which I have no direct personal interest, and announce that justice according to written law only should be administered, but it would be quite a different state of mind with which I should regard this crime if one of my own family were the victim of the brute’s attack. I fear then I should forget about my calm theory of allowing the regular execution of justice and everything else, even my age and hoary head, and be foremost in seeking quick revenge on the wretch,” said the old New Englander hotly. “Knowing you and your family as I do, sir, I’ll make oath that you would head the mob of lynchers.”