At length she formed her resolution to act. She called out, “Mr. Hodshon, come here!”
He came in and found her a pillar of rage.
“I've heard enough. I'll do what I refused before. I'll go with you and break in.”
Hodshon was dazed. He was not ready to act. She had refused his plan to break in according to the classic standards. He had let the plan lapse and accepted Mrs. Cheever as a poor rich wretch whom he had contracted to provide with a certain form of morbid entertainment. He could do nothing now but stammer:
“Well—well—is that so? Do you really? You know you didn't—O' course—Well, let's see now. You know we ain't prepared. I told you we had to have a c'rob'rating witness. It wouldn't be legal if we were to—Still, they probably would accept you as witness and us as corroboration, but you wouldn't want to go on the stand and tell what you found—not a nice refined lady like you are. The witness-stand is no place for a lady, anyway.
“The thing is if you could get some gentleman friend to go with you and you two break in. Then you'd both be amateurs, kind of. You see? Do you know any gentleman who might be willing to do that for you? The best of friends get very shy when you suggest such a job. But if you know anybody who would be interested and wanted to help you—Do you?”
Only two names came to Charity's searching mind—Jim Dyckman's impossible name and one that was so sublimely unfit that she laughed as she uttered it.
“There's the Reverend Doctor Mosely.”
Hodshon tried to laugh.
“I was reading head-lines of a sermon of his. He's down on divorce.”