CASE EXAMPLE
I wish there was a logical explanation for my obsession with you, which has been there for so long … Maybe I just want you to think of me, every day and preferably every hour. That is the best I can achieve … I don't care how you think of me, only that you think of me. That I exist, that you know me and don't forget me … I can only repeat myself and tell you about all the great things [about you] that have touched me so deeply. That make me want to be a part of your life, even if it is the blackest page in your life, as your stalker.
This letter was sent from prison by a man who had been stalking the woman he was writing to for over three years. Although he had known the woman when they were children, three decades later the two were strangers and the stalking began when she accepted his request to link up on a social media site. He proceeded to bombard her with messages, gradually escalating to locating her home and workplace, knocking on her door, and entering her home when she was not there to leave her gifts of flowers, money, and underwear. He followed her in the street, loitered outside her workplace, and all the while continued to try to communicate with her via phone, social media, and occasional letters. The intensity of the behaviour waxed and waned over three years, but there was rarely a week without at least one unwanted contact. Eventually, he was arrested, convicted, and imprisoned. The stalking was his first serious offence and after a brief period of incarceration the man was placed in a residential mental health service in the community to receive court‐ordered assessment and treatment. He had been receiving psychological and psychiatric treatment for nearly a year when the treating clinician contacted one of us for peer supervision. The man's court order was coming to an end in a few months, and he would be discharged, but the treating team was worried about the stalking victim's safety.
The clinician reported that the man insisted that the victim wanted his contact and had only participated in the prosecution
against him due to the influence of police and the judge. He said that he “just wanted to speak to her” so she could tell him herself that she did not want to see him. He told the therapist that he would continue to try to contact the woman until he was allowed to speak to her in private, and reported violent fantasies in which he would kidnap the woman to force her to speak to him. He was unperturbed by the thought of returning to prison. The man was entirely socially isolated, and his favourite activity was to go for drives in his car by himself, though the treating team was not aware of where he was going when he left the facility's grounds. The treating team knew that he maintained awareness of the victim via the internet and that he felt happy when he saw the victim's activities online. He voiced the intention of joining a sports club of which she was a member so he could meet her there.
There was considerable concern about what the most appropriate diagnosis might be, with thoughts about the relevance of both personality and pervasive developmental disorder (a psychotic disorder had been excluded and he had previously been treated with antipsychotic medication with no effect). Psychological treatment to that point had taken a schema therapy approach to hypothesised personality disorder, but the clinician was worried that the man continued to appear “obsessed” with the stalking victim, spent most of his time ruminating about her, and did not seem to consider his behaviour to be problematic at all. The clinician had discussed the man's feelings and thoughts about the stalking victim and advised that he should write down his thoughts about her, given they were highly preoccupying. When supervision was sought, the clinician knew little about the function of the stalking for the client and what specifically might reinforce it, only that the client perceived that he had a right to contact the victim due to his feelings for her.
The clinician was clearly invested in helping this man avoid further offending and in preventing harm to the victim. They realised that their efforts to date had had little effect. However, in discussion with them, it was also clear that they did not have a thorough understanding of why their client was stalking, and the focus of therapy was on clarifying and treating the effects of his
mental disorder rather than changing his behaviour. While there were concerns about the potential risk to the victim, there were no direct risk management strategies in place. The man was essentially continuing to stalk from hospital – monitoring the victim online and potentially in person during his long drives to unknown destinations. While he was engaging in therapy, the treatment provided was not addressing the functional drivers of the stalking, and the hospital environment was doing little to actively manage his behaviour or provide incentives that could motivate him to change.
We begin with this case example not to criticise the clinician or the treating team. They were clearly doing their best and were frustrated and concerned that their best wasn't having the desired effect. But this case encapsulates several issues that we have observed to commonly undermine effective treatment of stalking behaviour. First, the team had insufficient knowledge of what stalking is and did not recognise ongoing stalking behaviour when it was present. Supervision was sought primarily because the client had disclosed violent fantasies about the stalking victim, leading to concern for her safety given his ongoing “obsession.” The fact that he continued to monitor her behaviour online while hospitalised had not raised any alarm bells. Lack of stalking awareness meant that there was insufficient monitoring of behaviours of concern and not enough attention to actually preventing him from stalking. Second, the primary focus of formulation and intervention was mental disorder rather than understanding how (or whether) mental disorder contributed to stalking and what other treatment needs might be relevant. It was the stalking that led to the client's involuntary hospitalisation and which was associated with the potential for future harm, meaning the stalking should have been a direct focus of intervention. Despite this, the treating team had no structured understanding of the meaning of the stalking to the client, its function and what drove and maintained it, or what might be associated with it continuing or escalating to physical violence. The lack of a psychologically informed explanation of the stalking behaviour in turn meant that the treatment approach was not sufficiently focused on key drivers and reinforcing factors. While
personality dysfunction clearly played an important contributing role, schema therapy was unlikely to be effective in addressing one of the primary treatment needs: the fact that the client did not see his behaviour as a problem and had no desire to change.
You may read this case study and identify with the clinician and treating team, recalling current or past clients whose treatment and management have presented similar challenges and missed opportunities. Alternatively, you might have never worked with someone who has stalked, and you are reading this book in preparation for a future client. In either case, we would like you to take away four things from this case study that will help you understand our approach throughout the rest of this book. First, remember that stalking is a behaviour, not a mental disorder. Treatment should be guided by a comprehensive understanding of the individual and situational factors that create and maintain the stalking, which can then be used to identify ways to change it. Treating mental disorder is sometimes important to treating stalking, but often it is not the main focus. Second, to treat someone who stalks, you need to understand what stalking is and how it presents. Only when stalking is recognised can effective treatment and risk management be implemented. Third, make sure you have enough knowledge about stalking to provide competent treatment. This introductory chapter provides some fundamental information about stalking that will help prepare you to treat people who stalk but always seek out up‐to‐date reviews and data. Fourth, and finally, be like this clinician and reach out for expert help if your treatment is stalled or you are unsure what to do. Treating people who stalk is not straightforward, and an informed second opinion is often useful. We hope that this book can provide some initial insights that make working with this tricky population a little easier.
What Is Stalking?
Given the breadth of behaviour involved in stalking, it is helpful to start with a clear definition that can be used to identify when treatment might be required. Stalking is a pattern of behaviour in which one person imposes themselves into the life of another by making repeated unwanted intrusions that cause distress or fear.
Most stalking behaviour is the stuff of everyday human interaction –telephone calls, text messages, visiting someone's house. It is the pattern of conduct, the actor's intent, and the effect on the target that make otherwise routine actions problematic. A defining feature of stalking is a mismatch in the level of contact desired by the two people involved, with one insisting on more contact than is wanted by the other (Cupach et al., 2000; White et al., 2000). Stalking is one end of a continuum of unwanted behaviour involving such mismatched desires. At the least concerning end of the continuum are overly intrusive one‐off exchanges – an unwanted but relatively common part of everyday life. In a minority of cases, such events may develop into short‐lived and self‐limiting periods of harassment (sometimes termed unwanted pursuit behaviour) that cause discomfort but are not harmful. In some cases, such harassment crosses the line into a targeted and protracted stalking campaign, causing distress or fear and potentially causing considerable harm to the victim and those around them (Purcell et al., 2004; Thomas et al., 2008). What demarcates normal – albeit unwanted – behaviour from stalking differs from case to case depending on the nature of the behaviour, its persistence and the vulnerabilities of the target(s).
A stalking episode (the time between the first and last unwanted intrusion) can involve a multitude of different behaviours over days, weeks, months, or even years. The types of behaviour used by the person are limited only by their imagination and what they believe will achieve their goals, whether that is to frighten the victim, to begin or resume a relationship with them, or to obtain justice or some other outcome. There is no “prototypical” pattern of stalking. Most people will use multiple methods of communication (telephone calls, emails, social media, letters, graffiti, etc.) and contact (following, loitering, accosting, or other means of putting themselves in close physical proximity to the victim) to make their presence felt. Many will also use other behaviours such as sending unsolicited materials (intended as gifts or to frighten), getting proxies to contact the victim for them, using the internet or electronic means to spread damaging misinformation or track the victim, using formal complaints or legal mechanisms to target the victim, or engaging in property damage, threats, or physical violence (Dreßing et al., 2020; Purcell et al., 2000; Spitzberg & Cupach, 2014). The frequency and
severity of unwanted intrusions will fluctuate over the course of a stalking episode. There will be times when the victim faces a barrage of unwanted contacts, and then weeks or even months when there is no contact at all and they think the stalking might have stopped, only for contact to resume. Regardless of the duration, frequency, or severity of unwanted intrusions, once they form a pattern of behaviour that causes the target significant distress or fear, stalking should be considered present.
Why Is Treatment for Stalking Needed?
Persistent stalking can be highly damaging, both to those targeted and to those who stalk. It is a crime in much of the industrialised world, and people who stalk are held to account and punished through the mechanisms of criminal justice. Yet we know that police and court intervention doesn't stop stalking – studies from Australia, Europe, and North America show that around half of people who have been reported to police, prosecuted, and convicted continue to stalk their victim, and up to a quarter go on to stalk someone else (Hehemann et al., 2017; McEwan et al., 2019, 2020; Mohandie et al., 2006; Rosenfeld, 2003). In these cases, punishment and the hope of deterrence are simply not effective if the goal is to stop stalking. Responding to stalking with only criminal justice sanctions will not protect many victims from ongoing psychological and physical harm, or reduce the impact of stalking more broadly.
That a purely criminal justice approach fails to stop stalking is unsurprising if you consider what we know about why people stalk. Stalking arises from an array of psychological, social, and cultural influences. The psychology that supports stalking is grounded in the individual's interpretations of the people and world around them, their expectations of themselves and others, and the meanings that they ascribe to events. Stalking behaviour is sustained by long‐standing patterns of emotional experience and expression, psychological skills deficits, and environmental cues (Mullen et al., 2009; Mullen, James et al., 2009; Parkhill et al., 2022; Purcell & McEwan, 2019; Rosenfeld et al., 2009). These are things that do not often change easily, even when someone wants to stop stalking. For a substantial sub‐group of people who stalk, symptoms of severe
mental illness and their impact on thinking and emotions are also a direct cause of their stalking behaviour. Without appropriate treatment of these symptoms, affected individuals are unlikely to be able to desist from stalking. But even where psychopathology isn't directly implicated in stalking behaviour, the kinds of psychological factors that contribute to it may not be changed simply through the imposition of a sentence in court.
If we accept that stalking is a problematic behaviour that emerges from and is sustained by an array of individual and situational influences, it suggests that interventions designed to change behaviour by changing such influences might reduce or even stop stalking. This is not a revolutionary concept. Psychological and social interventions are commonplace for other problematic behaviours, such as violence, harmful sexual behaviour, and offending more generally (Craig et al., 2013). A library of articles and books on these topics has been published over the past four decades, collectively known as the “what works” or “principles of effective interventions” literature. Beginning with the work of psychologists in the Canadian correctional system in the 1980s, this literature provides a fairly clear picture of how to design and deliver effective psychological interventions to reduce offending behaviour. Such approaches have a common set of ingredients:
they are provided to individuals assessed as being at relatively higher risk of reoffending, they target areas of need that are related to the behaviour of concern,
they are tailored to the individual's personal characteristics and ability to engage with treatment, they are based on valid psychological theory, and they treat people with respect and acknowledge their humanity and ability to change (Bonta & Andrews, 2016; Polaschek, 2010).
Treatment based on this approach and delivered by appropriately skilled and knowledgeable practitioners has been repeatedly shown to positively effect offending behaviour, including specific types of
offending such as sexual offending (Gannon et al., 2019). Although such psychological interventions are not the only ingredient in helping people to desist from offending (Polaschek, 2019), they can clearly be an important part of this process.
It is our belief that people who stalk should have the same access to effective specialist assessment and treatment as those who engage in other problematic behaviour, whether that is within or external to the criminal justice system. Unfortunately, this is not currently the case. There are very few agencies providing specialist stalking assessment or treatment internationally (see Chan & Sheridan, 2020, and Meloy & Hoffmann, 2021, for examples). Those that do tend to be isolated and their work has rarely been subject to outcome evaluation (with the notable exception of Rosenfeld et al., 2009, 2019). There are no validated psychological treatments specifically designed to address stalking‐related needs, and, to our knowledge, no major correctional or probation service offers treatment programmes designed for stalking. This is somewhat astonishing given stalking is common, with approximately one in six adults being victimised during their lifetime (McEwan & Pathé, 2014), and over 100,000 stalking cases being recorded by police each year in the United Kingdom alone (Home Office, 2022). Data from the Australian Bureau of Statistics (ABS) suggest that only about one third of stalking victims report their experiences to police, which gives some sense of the scope of the problem (ABS, 2016). There is undoubtedly significant unmet treatment need within the criminal justice system and outside it. Failing to provide appropriate treatment and risk management options for stalking places an entirely unfair burden on victims who have to try to manage this destructive behaviour and whose lives can be laid waste as a result (Korkodeilou, 2017, 2020a; Logan & Walker, 2021; Pathé & Mullen, 1997). It also condemns those who persistently stalk to endless pointless interactions with the criminal justice system, simultaneously destroying their lives and costing the community considerable sums.
It might seem reasonable to assume that existing interventions for general offending, intimate partner abuse, or even general violence might be appropriate for people who stalk, meaning specific treatment approaches are not required. Indeed, physical or sexual
violence is relatively common in stalking episodes (present in 20–50% of cases; McEwan, 2021). While it is possible that these individuals would benefit from programmes designed to reduce these behaviours, this does not take into account the remaining majority of people who stalk but do not engage in physical or sexual violence and may be at risk of further stalking. Such programmes also fail to address the targeted and persistent nature of stalking behaviour, which can be severely damaging regardless of the presence of physical violence (Kamphuis et al., 2003). Similarly, general offending programmes would likely have some relevance for the substantial proportion for whom stalking is part of a wider pattern of offending and antisocial behaviour (Eke et al., 2011; McEwan et al., 2017, 2020). However, such programmes do not address the targeted nature of stalking or the fixated mindsets that seem to contribute to its persistence. Additionally, such programmes would not be suitable for those without a wider pattern of offending behaviour. Finally, though just under half of stalking emerges out of the breakdown of an intimate relationship (Logan, 2020; Cupach & Spitzberg, 2004), most existing programmes for intimate partner abuse have been shown to have minimal effect in reducing the behaviour (Eckhardt et al., 2013; Gondolf, 2004; Travers et al., 2021). Moreover, while stalking and intimate partner abuse are clearly related in some cases, whether the two patterns of behaviour share similar treatment needs more generally is unclear. What little research that exists suggests that most people who abuse intimate partners do not go on to stalk post‐relationship, while a subset of ex‐intimate stalking cases emerge from relationships that are not characterised by abuse (Edwards & Gidycz, 2014; Ferreira & Matos, 2013; Senkans et al., 2020).
Lack of attention to the unique aspects of stalking in existing treatment approaches means that there have been calls for stalking‐specific interventions for over 20 years (Kamphuis & Emmelkamp, 2000; Mullen et al., 2001a). Unfortunately, they have not led to a body of research that can easily inform psychological treatment. The stalking research literature has largely focused on epidemiology and risk assessment, with far less attention to the psychological mechanisms and contextual cues that contribute to stalking (Parkhill et al., 2022). The treatment literature at present consists of opinion
pieces by clinicians (including the authors of this book) who provide general guidance and principles for treatment based on their experience with people who stalk (e.g., Kropp et al., 2002; MacKenzie & James, 2011; Mullen et al., 2001a, 2001b; Purcell & McEwan, 2019; Rosenfeld, 2000; Rosenfeld et al., 2009; Siepelmeyer & Ortiz‐Müller, 2020). There remains only one peer‐reviewed evaluation of a stalking treatment approach, in which dialectical behaviour therapy was trialled with some limited effect (Rosenfeld et al., 2009, 2019). This means that practitioners who provide treatment to people who stalk are largely working without an integrated evidence base, drawing on their knowledge of the stalking literature where possible, but frequently generalising from work with other problematic behaviour and having to reinvent the wheel when treating stalking.
In this context, our intention in writing this book is twofold. First, we want to provide detailed guidance to practitioners so they can more easily work with clients in ways that help stop stalking. Between us we have over 50 years of experience directly assessing and treating stalking behaviour and conducting research with this population. We thought it would be useful to distil this knowledge, and that gleaned from our colleagues, into consensus‐based, detailed, and practical guidance for assessing and treating stalking. Second, and equally importantly, we hope that the publication of this book might trigger renewed research interest in the psychological treatment of people who stalk. We particularly want to highlight where further research is needed to build an evidence base that can inform the development of future treatment approaches.
Key Facts About Stalking
While stalking behaviour has existed for centuries, the construction of stalking as a social problem and a crime is relatively new (Mullen et al., 2000, 2001b). The modern concept of stalking emerged in social discourse in the English‐speaking world in the late 1980s, gradually attracting community, media, and eventually political attention that led to its criminalisation (Mullen et al., 2001a, 2001b; 2009; Mullen, James et al., 2009). As anti‐stalking laws were introduced across industrialised, liberal democracies, stalking began
to attract attention from epidemiologists charged with quantifying this new type of crime, and mental health practitioners and support services who were suddenly confronted with victims and stalkers in clinical and forensic settings. Legal, sociological, and criminal justice research followed and there is now a sizeable research literature encompassing different philosophical and scientific perspectives on stalking. The majority of that research comes from North America, Western Europe, and Australia, though that is gradually changing (Chan & Sheridan, 2020). This body of research means that we are now able to describe with some certainty the characteristics of those who stalk, their victims, and common features of stalking behaviour.
Stalking victimisation is common, with 15–20% of women and 5–10% of men in Western industrialised nations reporting victimisation during their adult lives (ABS, 2016; McEwan & Pathé, 2014). The majority (60–80%) of victims are women, and 70–80% of perpetrators are men (Cupach & Spitzberg, 2004), with same‐gender stalking accounting for 15–20% of reported cases and more commonly involving all‐male dyads (Strand & McEwan, 2011). In forensic settings, these figures are skewed, with approximately 90% of people who stalk being male and 90% of victims female (McEwan et al., 2017; Nijdam‐Jones et al., 2018). Most women who are stalked will be stalked by men, whereas men are equally likely to be stalked by a man or a woman (Sheridan, North et al., 2014).
Both people who stalk and those who are targeted have an average age in the mid‐30s, though stalking victimisation and perpetration occurs across the lifespan (Sheridan, North et al., 2014; Sheridan, Scott et al., 2014). The handful of studies on stalking among adolescents suggests a similar phenomenon, though adolescents appear to be somewhat less persistent, but potentially more overtly aggressive, than their adult counterparts (Borges & Dell'Aglio, 2019; Cloonan‐Thomas et al., 2022; Fisher et al., 2014; Purcell et al., 2009; Sheridan et al., 2014a, 2014b).
Approximately one‐third of adult stalking victims are physically assaulted during the stalking episode, with rates being higher among former intimates and lower among stranger and acquaintance victims (Logan, 2020). In a very small proportion of stalking cases such violence is seriously harmful or even lethal (James & Farnham,
2003; McEwan, 2021; Sheridan & Roberts, 2011). Yet stalking is harmful even in the absence of physical violence. Some stalking victims have described the experience as “psychological terrorism” and “psychological rape” (Mullen & Pathé, 2002). Victimisation is associated with post‐traumatic stress symptomatology, depression, substance misuse, and reduced employment and education performance (Hall, 1998; Johnson & Kercher, 2009; Kamphuis et al., 2003; Logan, 2020; Pathé & Mullen, 1997; Thomas et al., 2008). More prolonged stalking has been associated with greater psychological impact on victims, regardless of the presence of overt aggression (Blaauw et al., 2002; Diette et al., 2014; Dreßing et al., 2020; Purcell et al., 2005). Spitzberg & Cupach’s (2014) meta‐analysis of 41 studies suggests an average stalking duration of approximately 15 months, though with substantial variation between studies. However, as Spitzberg and Cupach point out, it is not the duration per se that causes the most harm from stalking but the “cumulativeness” of the behaviour – it is the combination of frequent and unpredictable intrusions over a sustained period that appears to be traumatising for many victims.
Former intimate partners are responsible for just under half of all stalking episodes; approximately, one‐third are perpetrated by people who are prior acquaintances of the victim (e.g., work colleagues, neighbours), and roughly one in five people who stalk are complete strangers to the victim (Spitzberg & Cupach, 2014). A wide range of motivations are reported by people who stalk, including the desire for reconciliation or revenge following the breakdown of a relationship, the desire to establish or enact a relationship with the object of their affection, the desire to express grievance following perceived mistreatment, or to obtain sexual gratification and potentially prepare for a sexual attack (Mullen et al., 2000, 2009; Mullen, James et al., 2009). While most people who stalk persistently target a single victim in a particular context, potentially as many as 20% of people go on to target multiple different victims in different stalking episodes over time (sometimes referred to as “serial stalking”; Coupland & Storey, in press; Hehemann et al., 2017; McEwan et al., 2018).
A large number of those who stalk have mental disorders, with prevalence rates in clinical/forensic samples of at least 50% and
possibly as high as 70% (McEwan & Strand, 2013; Nijdam‐Jones et al., 2018), though this may be similar to rates in other offender groups (Wheatley et al., 2020). Personality, mood, substance use, and psychotic disorders are most common, with autism spectrum disorders and intellectual disability also reported in smaller numbers. As Albrecht et al. (2022) describe, there are several hypothesised pathways linking mental disorder and stalking. The most direct concerns the role of delusional beliefs about the stalking victim, which clearly drive stalking behaviour in a sub‐group of cases. More common is an indirect link, with the symptoms of mood, personality, substance use, or other disorders contributing to stalking through their impact on thinking and emotions, but not directly causing stalking behaviour.
Explaining Stalking
The heterogeneity of stalking behaviour and people who stalk has led multiple authors to develop descriptive typologies attempting to reduce complexity, facilitate communication, and guide responses (see McEwan & Davis, 2020 and Spitzberg & Cupach, 2007 for review). The main stalking typologies that are used in practice have several similarities, most obviously distinguishing between those who stalk former intimate partners and those with other prior relationships with the victim. More complex typologies also incorporate some evaluation of the person's apparent motivation and the presence and nature of psychopathology associated with the stalking (McEwan & Davis, 2020). Stalking typologies are useful when they are used as a heuristic to help inform hypotheses about what might be contributing to the stalking and when they can help guide immediate management actions. However, they are only a way of organising information to guide initial thoughts. In a treatment context, the application of a typology is not a substitute for a full assessment and formulation of the individual's behaviour (see Chapter 2 for further discussion of the use of typologies when assessing stalking).
Unfortunately, there is no simple answer to the question of what leads some people to stalk while most others do not. Stalkers' pursuit can cost them their friends and family, their job, their health, and in
some cases, their freedom. Yet they persist, persevering for months or years, intentionally or inadvertently destroying the lives of their victims, and often their own. There have been attempts to adapt existing theories of relationships and behaviour to stalking, including applications of attachment theory, behavioural theory, social learning theory, and social information processing theory. All of these approaches have explanatory strength and some empirical support, but some significant explanatory gaps remain (see Parkhill et al., 2022 for review). There is only one truly novel theory of stalking, Spitzberg and Cupach's Relational Goal Pursuit Theory (Cupach et al., 2000; Cupach & Spitzberg, 2004, 2014). This theory has considerable explanatory potential and has been tested in several studies, but at present remains limited to explaining stalking in the context of relationship pursuit. Developing a comprehensive theory of stalking is difficult because of the heterogeneity of those who stalk, and the fact that a wide variety of situational and individual factors contribute to it. However, the lack of a compelling and comprehensive psychological explanation for stalking may be one reason that the research literature is yet to thoroughly investigate psychological factors that could be the focus of treatment (Birch et al., 2018; Parkhill et al., 2022).
Laws Prohibiting Stalking
Given the importance of anti‐stalking laws to the contexts in which specialist assessment and treatment services are provided, this section introduces how such laws are typically structured and gives an overview of research about how they are (and are not) used. The first modern stalking law was introduced in California in 1990, and laws around most of the Anglophone world, much of Europe, and parts of Africa and Asia followed throughout the 1990s and 2000s (though not without controversy; Dennison & Thomson, 2005; Van der Aa, 2018; Wells, 1997). The rapid proliferation of anti‐stalking laws in the absence of a single accepted social definition of stalking means that there is considerable variation between jurisdictions in how stalking is legally defined (McAnaney et al., 1993). Some laws have since been subject to legal challenge, while others have been amended after criticisms that they did not in fact prevent stalking (Harris, 2000; Mullen et al., 2009; Mullen, James et al., 2009).
Stalking is difficult to legislate against because it usually involves behaviours that would be, in other circumstances, completely innocuous. Although some stalkers are overtly threatening or violent, many of the acts that constitute stalking are part of everyday interactions: telephone calls, emails, social media contacts, sending gifts, waiting for someone at their home or work, etc. It is their unwanted imposition and repetition over time that creates a sense of menace. As noted by McEwan et al. (2007), stalking is qualitatively different from, for example, the legitimate pursuit of a complaint or acceptable attempts to reconcile a failed relationship, but it has proven difficult for legislators to specify where such legitimate pursuit ends and when criminal sanctions are warranted (see also Ogilvie, 2000).
While different jurisdictions have taken different approaches to defining stalking there are some commonalities across anti‐stalking laws. They typically involve at least two, potentially three, elements: (a) defining the pattern and nature of the unwanted behaviour (the conduct element), (b) defining the intent of the perpetrator (the mental element), and often, though not always, (c) some requirement for a negative impact on the target of the stalking (the impact element; Fox et al., 2011; McEwan et al., 2007). Different jurisdictions have defined these three elements in different ways and with different levels of specificity, which can have real impacts on how laws are used and who can access them. Some jurisdictions also limit definitions of stalking to behaviour that occurs between intimate or former intimate partners, or simply outlaw “stalking” as a form of domestic violence without any further definition. We encourage readers to find their local anti‐stalking statute, consider how the three elements are operationalised, and how this might impact the use of the law in their jurisdiction.
The Use of Anti‐stalking Laws
A growing body of research has shown that where stalking laws exist, they are not necessarily used to their greatest effect (Brady & Nobles, 2017; Hehemann et al., 2017; Van der Aa & Groenen, 2011). Epidemiological samples of stalking victims suggest that between one‐third and half report the experience to police (ABS, 2016; Baum
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“Sure, people buying things for school. Grouchy Greenway was in, he bought a lot of homework paper—pity the fellers in the third grade. Ruth Binney’s scared of that ladder that rolls along—oh bimbo, that’s my middle name. I can take a running jump and ride it all the way to the back of the store.” He did not mention that he played the harmonica for the girls to dance; he was a good sport and did not tell tales out of school.
“I think Ruth and Annie Terris will miss you when you go to Montana,” said Mr. Walton playfully.
“Such nonsense,” said Mrs. Walton. “Don’t put those ideas back into his head.”
“I may go sooner than you think,” said Hervey.
He stood in the doorway to the dining room, pausing before making his late evening attack on the apple barrel. A blithe, carefree figure he seemed, his eyes full of a kind of gay madness. One rebellious lock of hair sprawled over his forehead as he suddenly pulled off his outlandish hat in deference to his stepmother. He never remembered to do this as a regular duty; he remembered each time separately, and then with lightning inspiration. He could not for the life of him adapt his manners or phraseology to his elders.
“You know me, Al,” he said.
“Are you going to wash your face when you go in the kitchen?” Mrs. Walton inquired.
“Sure, is there any pie?” he asked.
They heard him fumbling in the kitchen, then trudging up the stairs.
“I think it would be just as well not to harp on Montana,” said Mrs. Walton. “It’s odd how he hit on Montana.”
“One place is as good as another,” said Mr. Walton. “I’m glad it’s Montana, it costs so much to get there. If he had Harlem in mind, or Coney Island, I might worry.”
“He talks of them both,” said Mrs. Walton. “Yes, but I think his heart is in the big open spaces, where the fare is about a hundred dollars. If it were the Fiji Islands I’d be content.”
“Do you think he’d like to go to Europe with us next summer?” Mrs. Walton asked. “I can’t bear to leave him alone.”
“No, I’m afraid he’d want to dive from the Rock of Gibraltar,” said Mr. Walton. “He’ll be safe at Temple Camp.”
“He seems to have just no balance-wheel,” Mrs. Walton mused. “When I look in his eyes it seems to me as if they saw joys, but never consequences.”
“Sort of near-sighted in a way, eh?”
“I do wish he had stayed in the Scouts, don’t you?”
“No, I don’t,” said Mr Walton in a matter-of-fact way “He didn’t see it. Some day he’ll see it, but it won’t be because anybody tells him. The only way Hervey can learn that a tree is high is for him to fall out of it. That’s what I mean by his being near-sighted in a way.”
“Do you think those railroad workers are a good set?”
“Oh, they’re a good lot; good, strong men.”
“Well, I don’t care for that Hinkey, do you?”
Mr. Walton did not go into raptures over anybody from New York. He was a good New Englander. Nor had he been carried off his feet by the “million dollar theatre.” But being a true New Englander he was fair in judgment and of few words, especially in the field of criticism. His answer to this last question was to resume reading his book.
CHAPTER XXIV IN THE SILENT NIGHT
In his own room Hervey opened the satchel which circumstances had caused him to carry home. He thought that since kind fate had brought the opportunity, he would like to give one exceedingly low blast on a real musical instrument. He was astonished to find that there was no musical instrument in the satchel, but a tin box containing a small account book, a number of bills with a rubber band around them, and an envelope containing some loose change. He contemplated this treasure aghast. Counting the bills he found them to be in amount a trifle over a hundred dollars. Never before had he handled so much money. He was a little afraid of it. He shook the sealed envelope which was fat with coins; that alone seemed to contain a fortune. He glanced at the book and found it to full of figures, entries of receipts and expenditures. On the flyleaf was written:
Farrelton Merry Medley Serenaders, Horton Manners, Treasurer.
He was greatly excited by this revelation. Here was a serious business, a very grave consequence of a mischievous act. To be sure, the bringing home of the satchel that did not belong to him would have been the same in any case regardless of its contents. But just the same the sight of so much money come into his possession in such a way, frightened him. He had not thought of such a thing as this. You see Hervey never thought at all—ever. But he thought now. He had “colloped” (whatever that meant) the treasury funds of this musical organization and he felt uneasy that he should have to be the custodian of such a princely sum over night. Money that did not belong to him! Would his wanton act be construed as just harmless mischief? He had always wanted to have
a hundred dollars, but now he was almost afraid to touch it. He replaced the box in the satchel and put the satchel under his bed. Then he pulled it out again and put it in his dresser. Then he closed and locked the window. When he was half undressed, he took the satchel out of his dresser and stood holding it not knowing where to put it. Then he put it back in the dresser.
He thought of going downstairs and telling his stepfather and getting this awful fortune off his hands. But then he would have to tell how he had come by it. Well, was that so very bad? Tripping a fellow up? But would any one understand? He was very angry at the deserter Hinkey. And he was equally angry that this dextrous little tripping stunt should bear such consequences. It seemed to him that even poor Horton Manners had taken a mean advantage.
He resolved that he would hunt up the musical treasurer in the morning and return the satchel to him. He would hang on to it pretty carefully going down the street, too. He did not know Horton Manners, but he could find him. Of course, he would have to tell the man that he was sorry he had tripped him up. And his explanation of why he had carried the satchel home might sound rather queer. He was not too considerate of the tripping treasurer. He was doomed to a sleepless night on account of that “bimbo.” It was odd, more than it was significant, that Hervey, who was afraid of no peril, was in panic fear of this hundred and some odd dollars. He was just afraid of it.
Several times during that long night, he arose and groped his way to the dresser to make sure that the satchel was safe. In the wee hours of the night he was sorry that he had not hunted up Horton Manners immediately after his escapade. But then he might have got home too late. On every hand he seemed confronted with the high cost of mischief.
He wondered if the tripping treasurer was searching for the culprit with the aid of the police. He felt sure that no one dreamed he was the culprit. Would they, might they not already, have traced Hinkey? And what would Hinkey say? He had a reassuring feeling that Hinkey could not be identified as one of the culprits. He certainly would not tell on Hinkey. And he hoped that Hinkey would not be incriminated and tell on him before he had a chance to return the satchel. But surely Mr. Horton Manners had not gone home and to
bed, doing nothing about the theft of more than a hundred dollars. To the young treasurer the affair was a plain robbery. Of course, Hervey could not sleep when his imagination pictured the whole police and detective force of the town aroused by a bold hold-up.
In the hour just before dawn Hervey, in his troubled half-sleep, heard a knocking sound. Trembling all over, he pulled on his shirt and trousers, crept stealthily downstairs and with a shaking hand and pounding heart opened the front door.
CHAPTER XXV
LIFE, LIBERTY⸺
No one was there. Hervey looked out upon the dissolving night; already the familiar scene was emerging in the gray drawn—the white rail fence, the gravel walk with its bordering whitewashed stones, the big whitewashed tub that caught the rain-water from the roof trough. He smelled the mist. There was no one anywhere about; no sound but the slow dripping into the tub. Drop, drop, drop; it was from the rain of two or three days ago. How audible it was in the stillness! He crept upstairs again and went to bed. But he did not sleep. He wished that dreadful satchel were off his hands. Over a hundred dollars!
He arose in the morning before the household was astir and stole out with his guilty burden. He knew that Kipp’s Railroad Lunch was open all night and that it had a telephone. He would look in the telephone book for Manners. That way he would find the address. He thought of leaving the satchel at the Manners’ door, ringing the bell, and running away. The recovery of the money would end the trouble. But suppose the satchel should be stolen again—not again; but suppose it should be stolen? Of course, it had not been stolen before.... Just the same he was desperate to get it off his hands.
Things looked strange about the station so early in the morning; there were so few people to be seen, and no shops open. Somehow the very atmosphere imparted a guilty feeling to Hervey. He felt a little like a fugitive.
He could not find the name of Manners in the ’phone book and thus baffled, he felt nervous. For while he was losing time, the victim and the authorities were probably not wasting any time. He thought he would wait in the station a little while and try to decide what to do. He knew that the family of Denny Crothers, a scout, was identified
with the big white church. There was an idea! Denny would know where Horton Manners lived, or could soon find out. Perhaps he might even take Denny into his confidence. It is worth considering that in his extremity he was willing not only to use, but to trust, this scout whose troop he had repudiated.
Well, he would sit in the station a little while (it was still very early) and if he could not think of any other plan, he would go to Denny’s house. It would seem strange to the Crothers, seeing him there so early. And it would seem stranger still to Denny to be approached by an arch enemy. But Hervey’s troubled thoughts could not formulate any better plan.
The station was not yet open and he strolled back and forth on the platform where a very few people were waiting for the early train—a workman wearing a reefer jacket and carrying a dinner-pail, a little group of girls who worked in the paper mill at Brierly, and a couple of youngish men near the end of the platform. These two were chatting and one of them gave a quick glance at Hervey. It seemed to him that the talk which followed had reference to himself. He wished that the station would open, for it was a raw fall morning; there was a penetrating chill in the air. He wanted to sit down; he was tired of holding that dreadful satchel, yet he would not set it down for so much as a moment.
Suddenly, a rattling old car drove up and a brisk young man in an overcoat got out and dragged two huge oilcloth grips to the platform. He looked as if he might be a salesman who had completed his assault on Farrelton. He stopped and lighted a cigarette, and while he was doing this the two men strolled over and spoke to him. He seemed annoyed, then laughed as he took out some papers which the two men examined. Hervey overheard the word hardware. And he overheard one of the men say, “K.O., Buddy.” They handed back the papers, nodded sociably, and moved away. It seemed by the most casual impulse that they approached Hervey. But he trembled all over.
“You’re out early, kiddo,” said one of them. “Waiting for the train?”
Why, oh why, did he flush and stammer and answer without thinking? “No—y-yes—I guess it’s late, hey?”
“Guess not,” said the man with a kind of leisurely pleasantry “What you got in the bag, kiddo?”
“Bimbo, do I have to tell you?” Hervey demanded with the air of one whose rights are outraged.
“Might be just as well,” said the man. “What’s your name anyway?”
“My name is Hervey Willetts and you let go of that!” Hervey shouted, tugging at the satchel. “You let go of that, do you hear!” He not only pulled, but he kicked. “You let go of that or you’ll get in trouble, you big⸺ ”
He was the center of a little group now; it was astonishing what a number of persons were presently on the scene considering the few early morning stragglers. The men put a quick end to Hervey’s illconsidered struggle by taking the satchel while one held him firmly by the collar. There is not a decent person in the world but rebels against this collar grip which seems the very essence of effrontery. Few boys so held will fail to use that potent weapon, the foot, and Hervey, squirming, administered a kick upon his captor’s shin which made the burly fellow wince and swear.
But it was all to no avail. They opened the satchel and noted its contents. Hervey’s sense of indignity now quite obliterated every other feeling. His struggles subsided into a wrathful sullenness; he could not, or he would not, explain. He knew only that he was being held and that fact alone aroused the demon in him. Of course, if Walton could not manage him, and the Scouts could not win and hold him, it was hardly to be expected that these low-bred detectives could get closer to him than to hold him by the collar. A dog would have understood him better. He was not the kind of boy to grab by the collar.
These two detectives, apprised of the “robbery,” had taken their stand at the station to note if any suspicious looking strangers were leaving town on the first train. The boy had almost escaped, because of his youth.
And escape was the one thought in his mind now. Twice he might have explained; first to his good stepfather, and again to these minions of the law. But they had the grabbing instinct and (oh, the
pity of it) had diverted his thoughts from honest restitution to a maniac desire to beat them and baffle them, to steal indeed his liberty if nothing else, and let the satchel with its fortune go hang! He would steal; yes, he would forget all else now in this crazy mixup! He would steal what was the very breath of life to him—his freedom. He forgot the whole sorry business in this dominant thought—Horton Manners, the satchel, everything. They had grabbed him by the collar and he could feel the tightness in his neck.
As long as the squirrel has teeth to bite, he will bite. You cannot tame a squirrel. The fact that he is caught stealing in your tree is quite a secondary matter. Hervey Willetts never thought of stealing anything in his life—but just the one thing.
Freedom!
So he did a stunt. With both hands he tore open his shirt in front, and as he felt the loosening grip in back he sprang forward only to feel a vice-like hand catch hold of his arm. And that hand he bit with all his vicious might and main. Like lightning he dodged both men and was off like a deer while the circle of onlookers stood aghast. Around the end of the freight platform he sped and those who hurried there beheld no sign of him—only a milk-can lying on its side which he had probably knocked over.
Off bounded one of the detectives; the other lingered, sucking the cut in his hand. He didn’t know much about wild life, poor man. This was a kind of stealing he had never seen before—the only kind that interested Hervey Willetts. The only thing that interested him— freedom. As long as the squirrel has teeth to bite, he will bite.
You cannot tame a squirrel.
CHAPTER XXVI OUT OF THE FRYING PAN
But they caught him, and caged him. They found him in the camp of railroad workers near Clover Valley where he had spent a week or so of happy days. And they left nothing undone. They investigated the histories of that rough and ready crew, for they were after the man higher up, the “master mind” in back of the robbery
They unearthed the fact that one of them, Nebraska Ned, had been a sailor and had deserted his ship to assist in a revolution in South America. It was then that Hervey made a most momentous decision. He abandoned Montana quite suddenly and chose South America as the future theatre of his adventurous career.
No master mind was discovered, not even the true master mind, Harlem Hinkey. He was not implicated and he neglected to uphold the chivalrous honor of Harlem by coming forward as the originator of the prank which had such a grave sequel. In the hearing in court, Hervey never mentioned his name. And there you have Hervey Willetts. You may take your choice between the “million dollar theatre” and South America.
There was a pathos about the quiet resignation, the poise and fairness in face of all, which Mr. Walton presented in that memorable scene at the hearing. I like Mr. Walton, good man that he was. He sat, a tall, gaunt figure, one lanky limb across the other, and listened without any outward show of humiliation. His tired gray eyes, edged by crow’s-foot wrinkles singularly deep, rested tolerantly on the prim young man, Horton Manners, who was having his day in court with a vengeance.
And Hervey, too, looked upon the young treasurer musician with interest, with dismay indeed, for he recognized in him the very same young man into whose lap he had stumbled on the train coming
home after his triumphal season at helpless Temple Camp. Horton Manners looked down from his throne on the witness box, gazing through Hervey rather than at him, and adjusted his horn spectacles in a way that no one should do who is under fifty years old. He held one lapel of his coat and this simple posture, so common with his elders, gave him somehow the absurd look of an experienced business man of about twenty-two years.
He was not in the least embarrassed. He testified that he was treasurer of the Farrelton Band and confessed that he played a small harp. If he had said that he played a drum nobody would have believed him. He said that he had lived in Farrelton but a short while and made his home with his married sister. Then, on invitation of the likely looking young man representing the prosecutor, he told how Hervey had mentioned on the train that he was going to Montana and that he was going to “collop” the money to get there.
“And when did you next see him?”
“Not till this very day; in fact—here in court.”
“When he spoke of Montana, did he ask you how much it would cost to get there?”
“He did, and I informed him that it would cost at least a hundred dollars. I advised him against going.” There was a slight titter of the spectators at this.
“I think that’s all, your Honor,” said the interrogator. “Since the boy admits he took the satchel, we need not prove that.”
“Just one moment,” drawled Mr Walton, drawing himself slowly to his feet. He had employed no lawyer, and would not, unless his stepson were held for trial on the serious charge of robbery.
“You say you live with your married sister?” he drawled ruminatively
“Mrs. Winton C. DeGraw, yes.”
“Then your name would not be in the ’phone book?”
“Presumably not.”
“Hmph.”
“I don’t see any significance in that,” said the young prosecutor.
“I simply want to find out if my boy has told me the truth,” said Mr. Walton. “This isn’t a trial, of course. When I have satisfied myself
about certain matters I will ask the court to hear me. One more question, Mr. Horton—I mean Mr. Manners. Do you know the meaning of the word collop?”
“I never investigated it.”
“Well, I have investigated it,” said Mr. Walton, with the faintest twinkle in his eye. Hervey looked rather surprisedly at his stepfather. “It does not mean to steal. It means to earn or to get by the performance of a foolhardy act—what boys call a stunt. Do you know what a stunt is?”
“I suppose when I was knocked down⸺ ”
“You mean tripped.”
“Well, tripped. I suppose that was a stunt.”
“Exactly,” said Mr. Walton. “That’s all it was and nothing more. I have talked with boys and I find that if a boy jumps from a high fence to get another boy’s jack-knife, he collops it. It’s a long time since you and I were boys, Mr Horton Manners,” Mr Walton added with a smile. “Do you really want to charge this youngster with a felony?” he continued in a tone of quiet kindness. “Isn’t the case hard enough without that? Did you never perform a stunt?”
Oh, Hervey Willetts, if you had no thrill in that moment for the patient, kindly, harassed man—your friend and counselor; then indeed was there no hope for you! But he had a thrill. For the first time in all his life his eyes filled and brimmed over as he looked at the man who wanted only to make sure of him, to know that he was not dishonest; who could stand for anything save that.
“I think, your Honor,” said Mr. Walton quietly, “that this affair simmers down to a piece of mischief with an unintendedly serious consequence. I know, of course, about the recent affair of the fire. My boy gave himself up because he would not be despicable. He does not lie, much less steal. I believe the story he told me; that he thought the satchel contained a musical instrument and that he intended to blow it and cause panic to those gathered in the church. He saw the police officer, thought he was watched, and carried out the part of innocence by bringing the satchel home. It proved an elephant on his hands, a guilty burden to one really innocent. He told me he could not find this young man’s name in the ’phone book and
it develops that the name is not there. I have here two men who saw him looking in the ’phone book in a lunch room near the station⸺ ”
The judge interrupted and surprised him. “I think we need not prolong this,” said he. “I think the boy had no intention of committing a serious crime, or any crime at all. I believe the story he told when arrested. I’d like to think the consequence will prove a lesson to him. But do you think it will?”
“I’m afraid it will not,” said Mr. Walton. “And I may say now that it is my intention to send him somewhere where he will be under rigid discipline. I think I may be left to deal with him.”
“Well, the charge of robbery is dismissed,” said the judge. Then he appeared to ruminate. “But the boy is still with us and there’s the problem. This is the second time he has been brought into court. He kicked up quite a rumpus and bit an officer. Where is this kind of thing going to end?” He seemed kindly and spoke rather sociably and not as an official. “Why don’t you put him in the Boy Scouts?” he added.
“The Boy Scouts haven’t given him a knockout blow yet,” smiled Mr. Walton. “I’m always hoping they’ll reach him. But I suppose they’ll have to do a stunt that pleases him. Meanwhile, I’m going to send him to a military school. It seems like a confession of defeat, but I’m afraid it’s the only thing to do.”
The judge turned to Hervey. “You’d better go home with your father,” said he. “And you take my advice and get into the Boy Scouts while there is time, or the first thing you know you’ll land in a reformatory. So you want to go to Montana, eh?”
“Sure, they have train robbers out there?” said Hervey.
“And how do you like having a hundred dollars that doesn’t belong to you?”
“Nix on that stuff,” Hervey said gayly.
“Yet you like train robbers.”
“Bimbo, that’s different.”
Mr. Horton Manners, still sitting like an owl on the witness stand, gazed at Hervey with a look of utter bewilderment.
“But in South America they have rebellions,” said Hervey.
“Well, let us have no more rebellion here,” smiled the judge.
And he winked at Mr. Walton.
CHAPTER XXVII AT LAST
Of course, Hervey was never in any danger of being sent to prison for robbery. As soon as he was arrested and made to tell his story, Mr. Walton annoyed, but unruffled, saw the thing in its true light. He went to the all night lunch room near the station and made sure that Hervey had gone there; then he verified the boy’s statement that the name of Manners was not in the ’phone book.
Quietly he even inquired among boys the meaning of collop. And he learned on the highest juvenile authority that it did not signify stealing nor an intent to steal. But Horton Manners had made the charge of robbery and so the whole business had to be aired in court. Mr. Walton was a man of few words; it would be interesting to know what he really thought of Horton Manners.
As for Hervey, he quite forgot the affair within an hour of the time it was over. He had been appalled to find himself the custodian of a hundred and more dollars, but now that he had got it off his hands, he went upon his way rejoicing. He never looked either backward or forward; the present was good enough for him. It is significant that he bore no malice toward Horton Manners. Once or twice he referred to him as Arabella; then he forgot all about him. He could not be bothered hating anybody; nor caring a great deal about anybody either.
A few prominent townspeople financed the Firemen’s Carnival and it was held after all. Shows and acts were engaged, the merrygo-round revolved to the accompaniment of its outlandish music, the peanut and lemonade men held form; you could see the five-legged calf for “a dime ten cents,” and Biddle’s field presented a gala scene. The boys of Farrelton went round and round trying to stab the brass
ring, they drank red lemonade and time after time gazed spellbound at the five-legged calf.
Hervey did not care about seeing the five-legged calf unless he could sneak in under the canvas fence, and he could not manage that because of the man who kept shouting and slapping the canvas with his stick. In common with all the other boys he was thrilled at the sight of Diving Denniver who ascended a ladder to a dizzy height and dived from it into a small tank directly below. Diving Denniver did this thing twice a day, and his night performance was the more thrilling because it was in the glare of a searchlight whose long beam followed him in his slow ascent of the frail looking ladder and showed him in a circle of light when he paused for one thrilling moment at the top. He earned his living in this way, going around exhibiting at carnivals and amusement parks, and he was the big feature of the Farrelton carnival.
Hervey was not content simply to behold this daredevil exploit. He saw it twice in the daytime and once at night, and he could not stand the strain of being restricted to the enjoyment afforded a gaping audience. That is where he differed from other boys. It was this something in his nature that prevented him from reading boys’ books; he could not intrude into the hair-raising adventures and so he had no use for them. The most thrilling stories were utterly dead stuff to Hervey.
But here he could intrude. It was after he saw the night performance that he felt the urge to penetrate to the hallowed spot whence that enchanted daredevil emerged in his theatrically cautious ascent of the ladder The nature of the spectacular feat required that it be performed at a distance from the body of the carnival. As soon as the band started playing Up in the air mid the stars, the long column of light was directed on the ladder which appeared as if by magic a hundred yards or so from the thronged area of the carnival. Every eye was then fixed with expectancy as a white figure arose into view, moving up, up, up, to a little surmounting platform. Then the sensational dive, after which the pleasure seekers ate, drank and were merry again.
But Hervey could not go back to any merry-go-round after that, and red lemonade had no solace for him. He wandered off from
those festoons of electric lights, away from the festive groups, into the darkness. Before him, down near the edge of Biddle’s field, was a tiny light. Soon he came to a rope fence which cut off the end of the field from the public. Beyond this were wagons and huge cases standing in the darkness, the packing and transporting paraphernalia of the motley shows. In a monstrous truck that stood there the multicolored prancing horses of the merry-go-round would be loaded and have a ride themselves.
On an upright of this rope fence was a sign which read POSITIVELY NO ADMITTANCE. Hervey entered just where the sign was placed. A hundred or so paces brought him to the holy of holies, a little tent at the foot of the towering, slender ladder. In the darkness its wire braces, extending away on each side to their anchorages in the earth, could not be seen. Almost at the foot of the ladder was a tank perhaps fifteen or eighteen feet square. Close by the tent was a Ford sedan, and Hervey crept reverently up to it and read the words on the spare tire cover DIVING DENNIVER. On the lower part of the circumference was printed THREE HUNDRED FOOT DIVE. Diving Denniver believed in advertising. In that tent lived the enchanted mortal.
Hervey lingered in awe as a pilgrim might linger at a shrine before entering. Then he walked rather hesitatingly to the open flap of the tent. On a mattress which lay atop a huge red chest reclined Diving Denniver in a bath robe. The chest had DIVING DENNIVER printed on it, as also did a large leather grip, which bore the additional information WONDER OF TWO CONTINENTS. If the world could not see Diving Denniver on his dizzy perch, it at least could read about him. Besides the makeshift divan the tent contained a rough table formed by a red board laid on two saw horses.
On this was a greasy oil-stove and one or two plates and cups. In his illicit wanderings, Hervey had at last trespassed through the golden gates into heaven.
“I was walking around,” said he, rather unconvincingly.
Diving Denniver, a slim young man of about thirty, was smoking a cigarette and looking over a magazine. It seemed incredible that he should be thus engaged so soon after his spectacular descent.
“Bimbo, that was some pippin of a dive,” said Hervey Then, as Diving Denniver made no attempt to kill him, he ventured to add, “Oh bambino, that’s one thing I’m crazy about—diving.”
“Didn’t the cop see you?” the marvel asked.
“Leave it to me,” said Hervey. “There isn’t any cop there anyway. Cops, that’s one thing I have no use for—nix.”
“Yere?” queried Diving Denniver, aroused to slight amusement.
“Do you—do you feel funny?” Hervey ventured as he gazed upon the wonder of two continents.
“Where did yer git that hat?” asked the god of the temple. “What’s all them buttons you got on it?”
“I climbed way down a cellar shaft to get one of those buttons,” said Hervey, anxious to establish a common ground of professional sympathy with this celebrity. “That’s the one,” he indicated, as he handed Denniver his hat; “the one that says VOTE FOR TINNEY. He didn’t get elected and I’m glad, because his chauffeur’s a big fool; he chased me, but he couldn’t catch me. Some of those holes I cut out with a real cartridge shell, like you cut cookies. I bet you feel funny, hey?”
“Yere?” said Diving Denniver, examining the hat. “Well, do you think yer could go back up there where the big noise is and then come back here again—without gettin’ stopped?”
“You mean you dare me to?”
Diving Denniver roused himself sufficiently to reach over to a box and grope in the pocket of a pair of ordinary trousers, the kind that mortals wear. Then he tossed a quarter to Hervey. “Chase yourself back there and get a frankfurter,” he said; “get a couple of ’em. And don’t leave the cop see yer.”
So the wonder of two continents ate frankfurters—and scorned cops. More than that, he and Hervey were going to eat a couple of frankfurters together. At last Hervey felt that he had not lived in vain.
CHAPTER XXVIII THE LAW AGAIN
Hervey felt that he and Diving Denniver were pretty much alike after all. The wonder of two continents beat all the boy scouts put together. And he had now a fine precedent for his repudiation of authority. Diving Denniver cared naught for cops and signs. Hervey would have been glad to go into any court and cite this high authority, confounding the powers with this frankfurter episode. He was sorry he had not told Diving Denniver of his swimming across the lake at Temple Camp (during rest period which was against the rules). Instead of an honor he had received a reprimand for that. He was a little afraid that some of the other boys would visit the wonder in his tent, but in fact there wasn’t much danger of that. The wonder was too much off the beaten track for most boys. Their thoughts did not carry behind the scenes.
Hervey was now in much perplexity whether to witness the thrilling exploit from the audience the next night or to view it from the sanctum of the hero. In either case he intended to visit the remote scene of enchantment with two frankfurters. He decided that he would not demean himself by gazing at his hero with the idle throng. He even negotiated an extra hour out from Mr. Walton in anticipation of his second visit to the hermit of the ladder.
He could not possibly reach the place in the daytime, and besides, he had to take up some bulbs for his stepmother the next day. For this and other services he was to receive fifty cents. Twenty-five of this would pay his admission to the carnival. With the other twentyfive he intended to furnish forth a banquet of frankfurters for his hero and brother daredevil. He could not afford to go twice in the day. He had some thought of effecting an entrance over the high fence into the field and having his entire fifty cents for the post-exploit feast. But reckless as he was, he was cautious in this matter of reaching the
tent—there was so much at stake! So he decided to go respectably in through the entrance and then cross the rope fence where the “Positively No Admittance” sign was placed. It was not often that he showed such a conservative spirit.
At half past eight, he found Diving Denniver strolling around in his bathrobe outside the tent. Within, the odor of fried bacon and coffee still lingered.
“You back again?”
“Sure, I want to see you from right here, and afterward I’m going to go and get some more frankfurters. After you’re finished will you let me go about ten or fifteen steps up the ladder and try it?”
Diving Denniver did not trouble himself to answer, but he ruffled Hervey’s hair good-humoredly as he ambled about smoking his cigarette. “Much of a crowd over there?” he asked.
“Oh bimbo, they’re all waiting. They stop dancing even when you go up,” Hervey said.
“You’re a pretty slippery kid, all right, ain’t yer?” Denniver said. “Ain’t there no guy up there at the rope?”
The words were scarcely out of his mouth when both he and Hervey became aware of a policeman who had just come around the side of the tent. But Hervey, though astonished, was not perturbed, for he believed that the wonder of two continents would protect him. One word from Diving Denniver and he would be safe. He even ventured a defense himself.
“I’m going to do an errand for him,” he said.
“You can ask him yourself. So I’ve got a right to be here.”
But it appeared that it was Diving Denniver with whom the officer had business. “Are you Charles McDennison?” he asked.
“Yere, what’s the dope?” the wonder asked, with a kind of weariness in his voice.
Hervey was astonished, not to say shocked, that Diving Denniver acknowledged the name of Charles McDennison.
“Let’s look at your permit,” said the officer.
Mr. McDennison entered the tent, presently emerging with a paper.
