“Yes, I recognize these skates very well, Chief,” Hugh told the waiting officer.

“And do they belong to you, Hugh?” continued the officer, with a stern look at the cringing culprit near by, who weakly leaned against the table for support after his recent rough handling.

“They were my property until just ten minutes, more or less, ago, Chief,” said Hugh, deliberately fixing Nick with his eye, so as to impress things on him in a way he could never forget.  “Then I had an offer from Nick here to buy them.  At first I was averse to letting him have them, but I changed my mind.  These skates belong to Nick, Chief.  You must set him free, and not hold this against him.  He’s going to wipe the slate clean this time and astonish folks here in Scranton by showing them what a fellow of his varied talents can do, once he sets out to go straight.  And, for one, I wish him the best of success from the bottom of my heart.  I hope you enjoy your skates, Nick.”

He held out his hand, and the astounded Nick mechanically allowed Hugh to squeeze his digits.  But not one word could he say, simply stared at Hugh as though he had difficulty in understanding such nobility of soul; then, taking the skates, he went from the room.  They could hear the clatter of his heels as he hurried down the stairs, as though afraid Hugh might yet repent and send the officer after him.

Of course, Chief Wambold departed, shrugging his shoulders as though still more than half convinced there had been something crooked about Nick’s suspicious actions.

Of course Thad had to be told the whole amazing story.  He shook his head at the conclusion, and went on record as being a doubter by saying: 

“I wish you success in your wonderful experiment, Hugh, I sure do; but all the same I don’t believe for a minute the leopard is going to change its spots, or that Nick Lang, the worst boy in Scranton, can ever reform.”

Hugh would say nothing further about it, only, of course, he made Thad promise to keep everything secret until he gave permission to speak.  If Nick made good this would never happen.

That night Hugh had a jolly time, and it was fairly late when he crept into bed.  As he lay there, instead of going to sleep immediately, he looked out of the window toward the west, where a bright star hung above the horizon.  It seemed like a magnet to Hugh, who lay there and watched for its setting, all the while allowing his thoughts to roam back to the remarkable happening of that afternoon.

“It’s a toss-up, just as Thad says, whether anything worth while will come of my experiment,” he told himself; “but, anyhow, I’ve given Nick something to think over.  And if he makes the first advances toward me I’m bound to meet him half-way.  I only hope it turns out like the story of Jean Valjean did.  But there goes my Star of Hope down behind the horizon; and now I’d better be getting some sleep myself.  All the same I’m glad I did it!”