Two days after the trial, Peter had another call from Dummer.

“You handled that case in great style, Mr. Stirling,” he told Peter.  “You know the ropes as well as far older men.  You got just the right evidence out of your witnesses, and not a bit of superfluous rubbish.  That’s the mistake most young men make.  They bury their testimony in unessential details, I tell you, those two children were worth all the rest put together.  Did you send them to the country on purpose to get that kind of evidence?”

“No,” said Peter.

“Well, every man in that jury was probably a father, and that child’s talk took right hold of them.  Not but that your speech would have done the business.  You were mighty clever in just telling what you saw, and not going into the testimony.  You could safely trust the judge to do that.  It was a great speech.”

“Thank you,” said Peter.

“He’s not to be taffied,” thought the lawyer.  “Plain talking’s the way to deal with him.”  He ended his allusions to the trial, and said:  “Now, Mr. Stirling, Mr. Bohlmann doesn’t want to have these civil suits go any further.  Mr. Bohlmann’s a man of respectability, with a nice wife and some daughters.  The newspapers are giving him quite enough music without your dragging him into court.”

“It’s the only way I can reach him,” said Peter.

“But you mustn’t want to reach him.  He’s really a well-meaning man, and if you ask your clergyman—­for I believe you go to Dr. Purple’s church?—­you’ll find he’s very charitable and generous with his money.”

Peter smiled curiously.  “Distributing money made that way is not much of a charity.”

“He didn’t know,” said the lawyer.  Then catching a look which came into Peter’s face, he instantly added, “at least, he had no idea it was that bad.  He tells me that he hadn’t been inside those cow-sheds for four years.”

“Come and see me to-morrow,” said Peter.

After Dummer had gone, Peter walked uptown, and saw his clergyman.

“Yes,” he was told, “Mr. Bohlmann has always stood high in the church, and has been liberal and sensible with his money.  I can’t tell you how this whole thing has surprised and grieved me, Mr. Stirling.  It must be terrible for his wife.  His daughters, too, are such nice sweet girls.  You’ve probably noticed them in church?”

“No,” Peter had not noticed them.  He did not add that he did not notice young girls—­that for some reason they had not interested him since—­since—­

“Where does he live?” inquired Peter.

“Not ten blocks from here,” replied Dr. Purple, and named the street and number.

Peter looked at his watch and, thanking the clergyman, took his leave.  He did not go back to his office, but to the address, and asked for Mr. Bohlmann.  A respectable butler showed him into a handsome parlor and carried his name to the brewer.