"You'd better have stipulated it in the bond," said the lawyer, who could
not refrain, even at this solemn moment, from the temptation of playing
upon Mr. Plimpton's apprehensions. "I'm afraid he'll make it his
business, Wallis, to find out whether you own anything in Dalton Street.
I'll bet he's got a list of Dalton Street property in his pocket right
now."

Mr. Plimpton groaned.

"Thank God I don't own any of it!" said Langmaid.

"What the deuce does he intend to do?" the other demanded.

"Read it out in church," Langmaid suggested. "It wouldn't sound pretty,
Wallis, to be advertised in the post on Monday morning as owning that
kind of a hotel."

"Oh, he's a gentleman," said Mr. Plimpton, "he wouldn't do anything as
low as that!"

"But if he's become a socialist?" objected Langmaid.

"He wouldn't do it," his friend reiterated, none too confidently.
"I shouldn't be surprised if he made me resign from the vestry and forced
me to sell my interest. It nets me five thousand a year."

"What is the place?" Langmaid asked sympathetically, "Harrod's?"

Mr. Plimpton nodded.