Chapter 47

The discussion over who could do what best, and who would be in the most danger continued until everyone was assigned a role. “But we still doesn’t has a plan,” Blathers pointed out.

Forster stroked his chin. “Indeed, I think there is one more element we need before we can decide on a definite plan.”

“Faith, an’ now what might that be, Mr. Forster?” Caddy Quale asked.

“Bait! We need to have something that will make these fellows so bold they will make a mistake, an error that will be evident to many, and will be such that everyone will find it abhorrent.”

“What does abhorrent mean?” I asked.

Dickens answered, “Something so awful that everyone will get damn mad.” This was one of the few times Dickens had participated in the conversation. He was busy writing in his notebook.

Forster asked, “What in the devil are you doing, Charles?”

“Oh, I’m just making some notes. This is good stuff.”

Blathers said, “Never ya minds that. Let’s gets back ta the bait and the plan.” Instead of scratching his head, he stroked his neck under his chin with two fingers; a universal gesture of thirst. Then the door opened, and Barkis, himself, came in.

“Well, what a fine gatherin’ we has here. Will ya all has a drink on the house? Jenny, drinks fer our guests, if’n ya please.”