Perhaps Wallis Plimpton could do something. Langmaid's hopes of this were not high. It may have been that he had suspicions of what Mr. Plimpton would have called Hodder's "reasonableness." One thing was clear--that Mr. Plimpton was frightened. In the sanctuaries, the private confessionals of high finance (and Nelson Langmaid's office may be called so), the more primitive emotions are sometimes exhibited. "I don't see what business it is of a clergyman, or of any one else, whether I own property in Dalton Street," Mr. Plimpton had said, as he sat on the edge of the lawyer's polished mahogany desk. "What does he expect us to do,--allow our real estate to remain unproductive merely for sentimental reasons? That's like a parson, most of 'em haven't got any more common sense than that. What right has he got to go nosing around Dalton Street? Why doesn't he stick to his church?" "I thought you fellows were to build him a settlement house there," Langmaid observed. "On the condition that he wouldn't turn socialist." "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. "Not that I am a patron," the lawyer explained somewhat hastily. "But I've seen the building, going home." "It looks to me as if it would burn down some day, Wallis." "I wish it would," said Mr. Plimpton. "If it's any comfort to you--to us," Langmaid went on, after a moment, "Eldon Parr owns the whole block above Thirteenth, on the south side --bought it three years ago. He thinks the business section will grow that way." "I know," said Mr. Plimpton, and they looked at each other. The name predominant in both minds had been mentioned. "I wonder if Hodder really knows what he's up against." Mr. Plimpton sometimes took refuge in slang.