Read the following passage and questions, then choose the right answer from options, the answer should be one of A, B, C, D.

<passage>:
Charity Case By JIM HARMON Illustrated by DICK FRANCIS four or five somebody was soiling my bed for me. I absolutely was not went out. It came back on when he unlocked the door. Every time I told One day, to prove me a liar, he opened and closed the door a few times things that came to me. He looked the way I did in the mirror. They did unpleasant things to him. like me. We got along. I didn't watch their shifty eyes too much, or ask them what they shifted to see. They didn't talk about my screams at night. candy, sticks of tea. I got a letter from Mom or Dad every now and then mind—to get all the money I could ever use for the things I needed and the things I wanted. It was two or three years later that I skulked into Brother Partridge's mission on Durbin Street. The preacher and half a dozen men were singing copper alloy tubing inside a slice of plastic hose for taking care of myself, rolling sailors and the like. Who had the price of a bottle? Partridge didn't seem to notice me, but I knew that was an act. I knew people were always watching every move I made. He braced his red-furred hands on the sides of his auctioneer's stand and leaned his splotched eagle beak toward us. "Brothers, this being Thanksgiving, I pray the good Lord that we all are truly thankful for all that we have received. Amen." amening. I could see he had a lot to be thankful for—somewhere he had received a fix. "Brothers," Partridge went on after enjoying the interruption with a beaming smile, "you shall all be entitled to a bowl of turkey soup prepared by Sister Partridge, a generous supply of sweet rolls and dinner rolls contributed by the Early Morning Bakery of this city, and all the coffee you can drink. Let us march out to send one to the chef that they were going to think I was rich, and some was only marking time the way we did in fire drills at the school. They passed me, every one of them, and marched out of the meeting room into the kitchen. Even Partridge made his way down from the auctioneer's stand like a vulture with a busted wing and darted through his private door. box. I knew what the trouble was, of course. I was in a monkey trap. The monkey reaches through the hole for the bait, and when he gets it in go up, down, left or right. But I kept trying. While keeping a lookout for Partridge and somebody stepping out of the kitchen for a pull on a bottle, I spotted the clock for the first time, a Western Union clock high up at the back of the hall. Just as The next time I glanced at the clock, it said ten minutes had gone by. My hand still wasn't free and I hadn't budged the box. "This," Brother Partridge said, "is one of the most profound experiences of my life." My head hinged until it lined my eyes up with Brother Partridge. The pipe hung heavy in my pocket, but he was too far from me. "A vision of you at the box projected itself on the crest of my soup," the preacher explained in wonderment. I nodded. "Swimming right in there with the dead duck." "Cold turkey," he corrected. "Are you scoffing at a miracle?" "People are always watching me, Brother," I said. "So now they do it even when they aren't around. I should have known it would come to to it. I had never got away with anything in my life. I was too smart to even try anything but the little things. "I may be able to help you," Brother Partridge said, "if you have faith and a conscience." "I've got something better than a conscience," I told him. Brother Partridge regarded me solemnly. "There must be something special about you, for your apprehension to come through miraculous intervention. But I can't imagine what." "Your name?" "William Hagle." No sense lying. I had been booked and printed before. Partridge prodded me with his bony fingers as if making sure I was substantial. "Come. Let's sit down, if you can remove your fist from the money box." it was a twenty, and that was almost the same thing to me. I creased it and put it back into the slot. As long as it stalled off the cops, I'd talk to Partridge. We took a couple of camp chairs and I told him the story of my life, or most of it. It was hard work on an empty stomach The men filed out of the kitchen, wiping their chins, and I went right on talking. After some time Sister Partridge bustled in and snapped on the overhead lights and I kept talking. The brother still hadn't used the phone to call the cops. "Remarkable," Partridge finally said when I got so hoarse I had to take a break. "One is almost— almost —reminded of Job. William, you are "William, all I can tell you is that time means nothing in Heaven. Do "Of course you have, William! Say you don't remember. Say you don't He looked at me in disbelief. "What else could it be?" "I don't know," I confessed. "I certainly haven't done anything that "William, if you atone for this sin, perhaps the horde of locusts will shook off the dizziness of it. "By the Lord Harry, Brother, I'm going to give it a try!" I cried. "I believe you," Partridge said, surprised at himself. He ambled over to the money box on the wall. He tapped the bottom lightly and a box with no top slid out of the slightly larger box. He "Perhaps this will help in your atonement," he said. And then the bill seemed to lie there, heavy, a lead weight. It would There was something I forgot to mention so far. During the year between when I got out of the reformatory and the one when I tried to steal Brother Partridge's money, I killed a man. It was all an accident, but killing somebody is reason enough to get punished. It didn't have to be a sin in some previous life, you see. Then lying there, bleeding to myself, I heard them talking. I heard noises like the point in making me suffer for it. There was a lot to be said for looking at it like that. But there was nothing to be said for telling Brother Partridge about the accident, or murder, or whatever had happened that day. Searching myself after I left Brother Partridge, I finally found a strip of gray adhesive tape on my side, out of the fuzzy area. Making there but an old guy talking urgently to a kid with thick glasses, matches dropping down on the floor next to his tennis shoes, and even a "Which newspapers?" the old girl asked stiffly. "I didn't want to see the I heard my voice say, "A pleasure. What about after work?" I didn't say it, but I was used to my voice independently saying and left me alone with that they had paid a lot of money for. I remembered Fredric March's double-breasted in Executive Suite while Walter Pidgeon and the rest the French fries. "Mac," I said to the fat counterman, who looked like all fat Partridge's. Let's see, it was daylight outside again, so this was the day after Thanksgiving. But it had only been sixteen or twenty hours since I had slept. That was enough. As I passed the counterman's friend on his stool, my voice said, "I "I still bloomp at me. The things abruptly started their business, trying to act casually as had done to the young boy. It was sort of nostalgic watching them, but The shrieks woke me up. For the first time, I could hear the shrieks of the monster's victim They say it's a bad sign when you start hearing voices. could hear but which I didn't say. It wasn't any worse to one who could hear other things I never said. I was as But a new thought suddenly impressed itself on me.

<question>:
Who didn't William say strange things to?

<options>:
A a man at the restaurant
B his father
C the librarian
D Partridge

<answer>:

D