Vietnam or Thailand ? Vote for the TOP Country of the Week !
Updated: June 25, 2025
She surprised Mr. Hodshon in the bosom of his family. He was dandling a new baby in the air and trying not to step on the penultimate child, who was treating one of his legs as a tree. When the telephone rang he tossed the latest edition to its mother and hobbled to the table, trying to tear loose the clinger, for it does not sound well to hear a child gurgling at a detective's elbow.
"There's no use of carrying this further. I've had all I can stand to-night. Let me go." As usual with people who have had all they can stand, Charity wanted some more. She glanced at the receiver, curious as to what winged words had flown unattended during her parley with Hodshon. She put the receiver to her ear and fell back. Again she was greeted with clamor. They were quarreling ferociously.
It seemed appropriate now, for she was going into mourning for her own husband, living, yet about to die to her. She left the house alone after dark and walked along Fifth Avenue till she found a taxicab. She gave the street number Hodshon had given her and stepped in.
They did not wish to ruin the whole enterprise by too great haste especially as they were receiving eight dollars a day and liberal expenses per man. At last, however, Hodshon sent word to Mrs. Cheever that the dictagraph was installed and working to a T, and she could listen-in whenever she was ready. Charity was terrified utterly now.
When Charity told Hodshon who she was his eyes popped and he was greatly excited. When she asked Mr. Hodshon to call at once he looked at his family and his slippers and said he didn't see how he could till the next day. Charity did not want to go to a detective's office in broad daylight or to have anybody see a detective coming to her house.
There's a hundred ways to get into a house and put the little dictor behind a picture or somewheres and lead the wire out to us." "But can you really hear if they talk low?" Charity mumbled, with dread. "Let 'em whisper!" said Hodshon. "The little fellow just eats a whisper. Leave it to us, madam, and we'll surprise you." The compact was made.
He gave her needed help up a high stoop and opened the door with a key. She found herself in a shabby, smelly hall where no one else was. He motioned her up the stairway, and she climbed with timidity. At each level there were name-plates over the electric buttons. The very labels seemed illicit. Hodshon motioned her up and up for four flights.
Of course that's impossible, isn't it?" "Well, it was a few years ago, but we can do wonders nowadays. There's the little dictagraph. We could string one up for you and give you the usual stenographic report or you could go and listen in yourself." "Could I really?" Charity gasped, and she began to shiver with the frightfulness of the opportunity. "Surest thing you know," said Hodshon.
She sat still for a while then rose, put on her hat, swathed her face in the veil, and went down the flights of stairs and out into the cool, dark street. She had forgotten that she had dismissed the taxicab. Fortunately another was lurking in the lee of the apartment-house. Hodshon summoned it and would have ridden home with her, but she forbade him.
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.
Word Of The Day
Others Looking