“Boswell?” the older man said. “I don’t recall the name as one of ours, do you, Mr. Hatcher?”
“I can’t say that I do,” the man with the muttonchop whiskers replied, “but I haven’t been in the service as long as you, Dr. Brown.”
The older man nodded. “I have certainly been part of this missionary effort for more than twenty years. But let me go and check the ledgers for you, my dear young lady. Please take a seat and I’m sure our Mr. Hatcher will keep you entertained.” He disappeared into a back room while the other man leaned over to me. “So you’re doing all this for a friend, are you? That’s what I call real Christian friendship. Is the poor dear lady suffering from an infirmity?”
“An infirmity? No, she’s in good health. Why do you ask?”
“I just wondered, because from what you said it sounded as if she was not able to make the inquiries herself, so I thought that perhaps she was of frail constitution.”
“No, not at all,” I said, smiling, although there was something about the man’s overly friendly manner and the fact that he had moved his chair closer to mine that was beginning to annoy me. “The answer to that is simple. She is a working woman, supporting herself with no family behind her. She has neither time nor leisure for this sort of undertaking.”
“Oh, I see. Then you must be a lady of leisure yourself.”
I was tempted to tell him it was none of his business, but I controlled the urge and reasoned he was only trying to make polite conversation while we were waiting for the search through the ledgers. Perhaps he wasn’t used to dealing with young white women any longer, and his gushingly friendly manner went down well among the heathen.
“I happen to have enough time to help out a dear friend,” I said. “Isn’t that what the Bible tells us to do?”
“Absolutely. Oh, indeed, yes, it is. You sound like you’d be an ideal candidate for the missions yourself, Miss—?”
“Murphy,” I said. “And I think I’d be the last person to want to serve as a missionary. First, I happen to be a Catholic, although not the most devoted to my religion, and, second, I have no wish to live in a mud hut and be massacred by savages or die of cholera or typhoid.”
“I assure you it is not as bad as you make it sound,” the gentleman said. “I myself have been harvesting souls for the Lord for quite a while and have come through unscathed, as you can see. Although I was lucky to have been home on leave during the terrible massacre three years ago. You must have read about it. I lost a lot of good friends.”
“It must have been awful,” I said. “I have just read Dr. Ketler’s account of it. Your fellow Prebyterians Mr. and Mrs. Simcox and all their little children.”
“Yes, indeed. But they are now reaping their reward at the feet of their maker, aren’t they?” He took out his handkerchief and blew his nose noisily. “So tell me, are you still unattached yourself then, Miss Murphy?”
Really, was he interested in me or just plain nosy? “I expect to be married in the near future,” I said.
“And your young man, is he in some kind of philanthropic field? Does he have good Christian leanings like yourself?”
I chuckled. “Some might find his profession a philanthropic one. He is a policeman, sir.”
“A policeman? Fancy that. One hears some terrible stories about corruption among the police. Let us hope that a young Christian girl like yourself can keep him on the straight and narrow.”
“I assure you he is of an honest and upright nature, Mr. Hatcher,” I said.
“That is reassuring to hear, my dear. I am glad to know that there are honest policemen in New York City and that we citizens can sleep sound in our beds. So tell me . . .”
At that moment mercifully the older man returned. “Ah, I see you two have had a nice chat. You’ve had a chance to talk with our Mr. Hatcher, then, Miss Murphy. One of our most devoted missionaries. He works in the city of Shanghai, among the most depraved of souls in that port city. I can’t tell you the number of souls he has saved for Jesus.”
I decided that I might have been uncharitable. Obviously the man’s approach was more successful among the Chinese. The thought crossed my mind that he might have been looking for a wife to take back to China and might have seen me as a likely candidate. The idea made me grin.
“Oh come now, Dr. Brown,” Mr. Hatcher said, twiddling his mustache in embarrassment. “It is Jesus who saves the souls. I am merely an earthly vessel.”
Dr. Brown sat down at his desk again. “Well, I regret to tell you, Miss Murphy, that we have no record of a couple called Boswell ever having been part of our mission to China.”
I got to my feet. “I see. Thank you for your time, Dr. Brown. And it was pleasant chatting with you, Mr. Hatcher.”