He had seen the other thief escape in the darkness; everything had been exciting and confused.
But now, in the lamplight and within the safety of those four walls he beheld a real crook, caught, cornered, at bay.
Justice Fee had simplified the whole thing, talking little, depending on hard, cold facts.

He had hit the vital spot of the whole mysterious business.

He had caught this little hoodlum satellite of thieves in an ugly lie.

Yet Peter Piper, who had in him the makings of a real scout, was not happy.

He had thought that he would be happy, but now he was not.
"If--if you'll--maybe--if I could take him to my house," he began, twitching his fingers nervously as he gazed wistfully at the Justice who embodied the relentless law, "if you'd let me do that he couldn't run away, it's so far, and he said he was hungry and--and anyway there isn't anything to steal at my house." That was better than reading the signal.