“Now,” says Catty, “we got to see that churn of Kinderhook’s.”
“Yes,” says I, “we have. Sounds easy. Let’s jest walk up and look at it. He’ll be tickled to death to have us.”
Catty grinned sort of drylike. “We’re a-goin’ to see that churn,” says he, “if we have to eat a hole through the wall.”
“S’pose he really keeps it in his room?”
“Bet he sleeps with it under his pillow.”
“Then we better not go to look at it at night,” says I.
“Let’s kind of sort of snoop around the hotel,” says he, “and get the lay of the land.”
So we went down to the hotel and walked all around it and looked at it outside as careful as we could, but that was about as good as looking at the outside of an egg to see what colored chicken would hatch out of it. We didn’t know what floor Mr. Kinderhook’s room was on, nor what side of the hotel.
“We kin ask,” says I.
“And have folks wonderin’ why we want to know,” says Catty. “The best part of this whole mess is that Kinderhook don’t suspect we suspect. He hain’t got no idee anybody’s thinkin’ he hain’t a good and great man. That makes it easier. If he don’t know somebody’s watchin’ him he won’t take so much pains to hide up what he’s doin’.”