“It might be done.”
“How?”
“Mr. Dinneford knows the chief of police.”
The light went out of Mrs. Dinneford's eyes:
“It can't be done in that way, and you know it as well as I do.”
Mrs. Dinneford turned upon Mrs. Bray sharply, and with a gleam of suspicion in her face.
“I don't know any other way, unless you go to the chief yourself,” replied Mrs. Bray, coolly. “There is no protection in cases like this except through the law. Without police interference, you are wholly in this woman's power.”
Mrs. Dinneford grew very pale.
“It is always dangerous,” went on Mrs. Bray, “to have anything to do with people of this class. A woman who for hire will take a new-born baby and sell it to a beggar-woman will not stop at anything. It is very unfortunate that you are mixed up with her.”
“I'm indebted to you for the trouble,” replied. Mrs. Dinneford, with considerable asperity of manner. “You ought to have known something about the woman before employing her in a delicate affair of this kind.”