“I’ll talk to you while you pack,” Bertha said. “It will only take a few minutes, and—”
“Oh, all right.” The electric buzzer released the door catch.
Bertha Cool went on up and found Josephine Dell in the midst of that seemingly hopeless confusion which comes at moving time.
A trunk in the middle of the floor was two-thirds full. A suitcase on the bed was already filled, and there were other clothes laid out apparently to be taken along. A small bag was on the floor by the bed, and a large pasteboard carton was about half full of a miscellaneous assortment of odds and ends.
Josephine Dell, attired in blue silk pyjamas, was literally standing in the middle of things.
“Hello,” she said to Bertha Cool as though barely seeing her. “I’ve got all this packing to do before midnight. Going to store most of my stuff and get out of the apartment. Never realized what a hopeless job it was. Going to cram things in somehow, then take a bath, dress, and catch a midnight plane. I didn’t want to be rude, but if you’ve ever done any moving, you know exactly how I feel.”
“I know how you feel,” Bertha assured her, “and I only want a minute.”
She looked around for a vacant chair. Josephine Dell saw the look, laughed nervously, said, “Pardon me,” and hurried over to lift some folded clothes from a chair by the window.
Bertha said, “I’m going to get right to the point. How would you like to receive five hundred dollars in cash?”
“I’d like it.”