The Honorable Peter Stirling and What People Thought of HimFord, Paul Leicester
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The Honorable Peter Stirling and What People Thought of Him
Ford, Paul Leicester
Labor movement -- Fiction; Love stories; New York (N.Y.) -- Fiction; Political fiction; Tenement houses -- Fiction
“Well?”
“For reasons you can easily understand, we don’t wish them to come to
trial.”
“Well?”
“And we take it for granted that your clients will be quite willing to
settle them.”
“We will talk about that, after the criminal trial is over”
“Why not now?”
“Because we hope to make Coldman speak the truth in the trial, and thus
be able to reach Bohlmann.”
“You’re wasting your time.”
“Not if there’s the smallest chance of sending the brewer to prison.”
“There isn’t. Coldman will stick to what he said if the thing is ever
tried, which it won’t be.”
Peter eyed Dummer without changing a muscle. “The District Attorney
told me that it ought to be in the courts in a couple of weeks.”
Dummer smiled blandly, and slowly closed one eye. “The District
Attorney tries to tell the truth,” he said, “and I have no doubt he
thought that was what he was telling you. Now, name your figure?”
“The civil suits will not be compromised till the criminal one is
finished.”
“But I tell you the criminal one is dead. Squashed. Bohlmann and I have
seen the right people, and they’ve seen the District Attorney. That
case won’t even go to the grand jury. So now, drop it, and say what
you’ll settle the civil suits for?”
“James Coldman shall go to prison for killing those children,” said
Peter, “and till he does, it is waste time to talk of dropping or
settling anything.”
“Humph,” half laughed the lawyer, though with obvious disgust at the
mulishness in Peter’s face and voice. “You think you know it all. But
you don’t. You can work for ten years, and that case will be no nearer
trial than it is to-day. I tell you, young man, you don’t know New
York.”
“I don’t know New York,” said Peter, “but—”
“Exactly,” interrupted Dummer. “And I do.”
“Probably,” replied Peter quietly, “You may know New York, Mr. Dummer,
but you don’t know me. That case shall be tried.”
“Well,” laughed Dummer, “if you’ll agree not to press the civil suits,
till that’s out of the way, we shall have no need to compromise.
Good-day.”
The next morning Peter went to the District Attorney’s office, and
inquired for him.
“He’s gone to Bar Harbor for a couple of weeks’ vacation,” he was told.
“Whom must I see in his stead?” And after some time Peter was brought
face to face with the acting official.
“Mr. Nelson told me he should present the Coldman case to the grand
jury to-day, and finding he has left the city, I wish to know who has
it in charge?” asked Peter.
“He left all the presentments with me,” the deputy replied, “but there
was no such case as that.”
“Could he have left it with some one else to attend to?”
“No.”
Peter went back to his office, took down the Code and went over certain
sections. His eyes had rather a sad look as they gazed at his wall,
after his study, as if what he had read had not pleased him. But if the
eyes were sad, the heavy jaw had a rigidness and setness which gave no
indication of weakness or yielding.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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