CHAPTER XXXI
MR. JOHN SOMERVILLE
Jack's appearance on the scene had set Mrs. Hardwick to thinking. Thiswas the substance of her reflections: Ida, whom she had kidnaped forcertain reasons of her own, was likely to prove an incumbrance ratherthan a source of profit. The child, her suspicions awakened in regard tothe character of the money she had been employed to pass off, was nolonger available for that purpose.
Under these circumstances Peg bethought herself of the ultimate objectwhich she had proposed to herself in kidnaping Ida--that of extortingmoney from a man who has not hitherto figured in our story.
John Somerville occupied a suite of apartments in a handsome lodginghouse in Walnut Street. A man wanting yet several years of forty, helooked many years older than that age. Late hours and dissipated habits,though kept within respectable limits, left their traces on his face. Attwenty-one he inherited a considerable fortune, which, combined withsome professional income--for he was a lawyer, and not withoutability--was quite sufficient to support him handsomely, and leave aconsiderable surplus every year. But latterly he had contracted apassion for gaming, and, shrewd though he might be naturally, he couldhardly be expected to prove a match for the wily _habitues_ of thegaming table, who had marked him for their prey.
The evening before his introduction to the reader he had passed till alate hour at a fashionable gaming house, where he had lost heavily.
His reflections on waking were not the most pleasant. For the first timewithin fifteen years he realized the folly and imprudence of the coursehe had pursued. The evening previous he had lost a thousand dollars, forwhich he had given his IOU. Where to raise the money he did not know.After making his toilet, he rang the bell and ordered breakfast.
For this he had but scanty appetite. He drank a cup of coffee and atepart of a roll. Scarcely had he finished, and directed the removal ofthe dishes, than the servant entered to announce a visitor.
"Is it a gentleman?" he inquired, hastily, fearing that it might be acreditor. He occasionally had such visitors.
"No, sir."
"A lady?"
"No, sir."
"A child? But what could a child want of me?"
"No, sir. It isn't a child," said the servant, in reply.
"Then if it's neither a gentleman, lady nor child," said Somerville,"will you have the goodness to inform me what sort of a being it is?"
"It's a woman, sir," answered the servant, his gravity unmoved.
"Why didn't you say so when I asked you?"
"Because you asked me if it was a lady, and this isn't--leastways shedon't look like one."
"You can send her up, whoever she is," said Somerville.
A moment afterward Peg entered his presence.
John Somerville looked at her without much interest, supposing that shemight be a seamstress, or laundress, or some applicant for charity. Somany years had passed since he had met with this woman that she hadpassed out of his remembrance.
"Do you wish to see me about anything?" he asked. "You must be quick,for I am just going out."
"You don't seem to recognize me, Mr. Somerville."
"I can't say I do," he replied, carelessly. "Perhaps you used to washfor me once."
"I am not in the habit of acting as laundress," said the woman, proudly.
"In that case," said Somerville, languidly, "you will have to tell mewho you are, for it is quite out of my power to remember all the peopleI meet."
"Perhaps the name of Ida will assist your recollection; or have youforgotten that name, too?"
"Ida!" repeated John Somerville, throwing off his indifferent manner,and surveying the woman's features attentively. "Yes."
"I have known several persons of that name," he said, recovering hisformer indifferent manner. "I haven't the slightest idea to which ofthem you refer. You don't look as if it was your name," he added, with alaugh.
"The Ida I mean was and is a child," she said. "But there's no use inbeating about the bush, Mr. Somerville, when I can come straight to thepoint. It is now about seven years since my husband and myself wereemployed to carry off a child--a female child of a year old--named Ida.You were the man who employed us." She said this deliberately, lookingsteadily in his face. "We placed it, according to your directions, onthe doorstep of a poor family in New York, and they have since cared forit as their own. I suppose you have not forgotten that?"
"I remember it," he said, "and now recall your features. How have youfared since I employed you? Have you found your business profitable?"
"Far from it," answered Peg. "I am not yet able to retire on acompetence."
"One of your youthful appearance," said Somerville, banteringly, "oughtnot to think of retiring under ten years."
"I don't care for compliments," she said, "even when they are sincere.As for my youthful appearance, I am old enough to have reached the ageof discretion, and not so old as to have fallen into my secondchildhood."
"Compliments aside, then, will you proceed to whatever business broughtyou here?"
"I want a thousand dollars," said Peg, abruptly.
"A thousand dollars!" repeated Somerville. "Very likely. I should likethat amount myself. Did you come here to tell me that?"
"I have come here to ask you to give me that amount."
"Have you a husband?"
"Yes."
"Then let me suggest that your husband is the proper person to apply toin such a case."
"I think I am more likely to get it out of you," said Peg, coolly. "Myhusband couldn't supply me with a thousand cents, even if he werewilling."
"Much as I am flattered by your application," said Somerville, with apolite sneer, "since it would seem to place me next in estimation toyour husband, I cannot help suggesting that it is not usual to bestowsuch a sum on a stranger, or even a friend, without an equivalentrendered."
"I am ready to give you an equivalent."
"Of what nature?"
"I am willing to be silent."
"And how can your silence benefit me?"
"That you will be best able to estimate."
"Explain yourself, and bear in mind that I can bestow little time onyou."
"I can do that in a few words. You employed me to kidnap a child. Ibelieve the law has something to say about that. At any rate, thechild's mother may have."
"What do you know about the child's mother?" demanded Somerville,hastily.
"All about her!" said Peg, emphatically.
"How am I to credit that? It is easy to claim a knowledge you do notpossess."
"Shall I tell you the whole story, then? In the first place, she marriedyour cousin, after rejecting you. You never forgave her for this. When,a year after marriage, her husband died, you renewed your proposals.They were rejected, and you were forbidden to renew the subject on painof forfeiting her friendship forever. You left her presence, determinedto be revenged. With this object you sought Dick and myself, andemployed us to kidnap the child. There is the whole story, brieflytold."
"Woman, how came this within your knowledge?" he demanded, hoarsely.
"That is of no consequence," said Peg. "It was for my interest to findout, and I did so."
"Well?"
"I know one thing more--the residence of the child's mother. I hesitatedthis morning whether to come here, or to carry Ida to her mother,trusting to her to repay from gratitude what I demand from you becauseit is for your interest to comply with my request."
"You speak of carrying the child to her mother. How can you do that whenshe is in New York?"
"You are mistaken," said Peg, coolly. "She is in Philadelphia."
John Somerville paced the room with hurried steps. Peg felt that she hadsucceeded.
He paused after a while, and stood before her.
"You demand a thousand dollars," he said.
"I do."
"I have not that amount with me. I have recently lost a heavy sum, nomatter how. But I can probably get it to-day. Call to-morrow at thistime
--no, in the afternoon, and I will see what I can do for you."
"Very well," said the woman, well satisfied.
Left to himself, John Somerville spent some time in reflection.Difficulties encompassed him--difficulties from which he found it hardto find a way of escape. He knew how difficult it would be to meet thiswoman's demand. Gradually his countenance lightened. He had decided whatthat something should be.
When Peg left John Somerville's apartments, it was with a high degreeof satisfaction at the result of the interview. All had turned out asshe wished. She looked upon the thousand dollars as already hers. Theconsiderations which she had urged would, she was sure, induce him tomake every effort to secure her silence.
Then, with a thousand dollars, what might not be done? She wouldwithdraw from the business, for one thing. It was too hazardous. Whymight not Dick and she retire to the country, lease a country inn, andlive an honest life hereafter? There were times when she grew tired ofthe life she lived at present. It would be pleasant to go to some placewhere they were not known, and enroll themselves among the respectablemembers of the community. She was growing old; she wanted rest and aquiet home. Her early years had been passed in the country. Sheremembered still the green fields in which she played as a child, and tothis woman, old and sin-stained, there came a yearning to have that lifereturn.
But her dream was rudely broken by her encounter with the officers ofthe law at the house of her employer.