Challoner still shook his head.
"Hang it!" they exclaimed; "he's too noisy."
Then they reasoned with him; but it did no good.
"It's a case of using force," they told each other. "To-morrow night——"
But to-morrow night never came for Challoner. The game of graft had sickened him.
"I have got to tell somebody about this," he assured himself. And then an inspiration came to him. "I know, I'll go to Murgatroyd!"
"Murgatroyd!" He shuddered as he repeated the name, for the prosecutor had been connected with the thing that had become to Challoner and his wife a subject forbidden and unmentioned.
But, nevertheless, he went to Murgatroyd.