| OCR Text |
Show 88 "You want to give it back?" Lathrop was firm and unyielding . The two backed off and retired to their own corner. "Why are you in here?" Lathrop asked the man still seated on the floor. "I'm waiting for my trial." "Trial for what?" "Theft." "Are you guilty?" "No, but I can't prove it." Lathrop sat down next to him. He could see from his eyes that the man was young, still in his early twenties. Moreover, they were not the eyes of a thief. Lathrop, a willing listener, looked at the young man. "I was the coachman for a nobleman of the court. His own son started stealing from him to satisfy his gambling urges. He always lost, but intended that somehow he would pay it back before his father discovered the loss...." "You don't need to say more. You took the blame for the son's crime," filled in -Lathrop. "It was easier to believe that I was the guilty one than to believe it was his own son." The distress in the boy's voice told Lathrop he was still suffering |
