"And he thinks Mr. Fosdick and his friends won't be able to retort," continued Mrs. Trafford. "Well, he's mistaken. They are going to retort. And you are the man they'll attack the most furiously."
Trafford sat down abruptly. All the men who are able to declare for themselves and their families such splendid dividends in cash upon a life of self-sacrifice to humanity, are easily perturbed by question or threat of question. Trafford, with about as much courage as a white rabbit, had only to imagine the possibility of being looked at sharply, to be thrown into inward tremors like the beginnings of sea-sickness.
"It don't matter," continued his wife, "whether you are innocent or not. They are going to hold you up to public shame."
"Who told you this?"
"Neva."
"She must have got it from the Morrises—or Armstrong."
"She came here especially to tell me, and she would not have come if she did not know it was serious."
"They sent her here to frighten me," said Trafford. "Yes, that's it!" And he rose and paced the floor, repeating now aloud and now to himself, "That's it! That's undoubtedly it."
"Tell me the whole story," commanded his wife, when the limit of her patience with his childishness had been reached. "You need an outside point of view."
She had told Neva she never permitted Trafford to talk business with her. In fact, he consulted her at every crisis, both to get courage and to get advice. He now hastened to comply. "It's very simple. Some time ago, a few of us who like to see things run on safe, conservative lines, decided that Fosdick's and Armstrong's management of the O.A.D. was a menace to stability. Armstrong and Fosdick had quarreled. It was Armstrong who came to us and suggested our interfering. I thought the man was honest, and I did everything I could to help him and Morris."