WHEN Peg left Mr. John Somerville's apartment, it was with a high degreeof satisfaction at the result of her interview. She looked upon thethousand dollars as sure to be hers. The considerations which she hadurged would, she was sure, induce him to make every effort to secureher silence. With a thousand dollars, what might not be done? She wouldwithdraw from the coining-business, for one thing. It was too hazardous.Why might not Dick and she retire to the country, lease a country-inn,and live an honest life hereafter. There were times when she grew tiredof the life she lived at present. It would be pleasant to go to someplace where she was not known, and enrol herself among the respectablemembers of the community. She was growing old; she wanted rest anda quiet 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.
It occurred to her to look in upon Jack, whom she had left incaptivity four days before. She had a curiosity to see how he bore hisconfinement.
She knocked at the door, and was admitted by the old man who kept thehouse. Mr. Foley was looking older and more wrinkled than ever. He hadbeen disturbed of his rest the night previous, he said.
"Well," said Peg, "and how is our prisoner?"
"Bless my soul," said Mr. Foley, "I haven't been to give him hisbreakfast this morning. He must be hungry. But my head is in such astate. However, I think I've secured him."
"What do you mean?"
"I have asked him to become one of us,--he's a bold lad,--and he haspromised to think of it."
"He is not to be trusted," said Peg, hastily.
"You think not?"
"I know it."
"Well," said the old man, "I suppose you know him better than I do. Buthe's a bold lad."
"I should like to go up and see him," said Peg.
"Wait a minute, and I will carry up his breakfast."
The old man soon reappeared from the basement with some cold meat andbread and butter.
"You may go up first," he said; "you are younger than I am."
They reached the landing.
"What's all this?" demanded Peg, her quick eyes detecting the aperturein the door.
"What's what?" asked Foley.
"Is this the care you take of your prisoners?" demanded Peg, sharply."It looks as if he had escaped."
"Escaped! Impossible!"
"I hope so. Open the door quick."
The door was opened, and the two hastily entered.
"The bird is flown," said Peg.
"I--I don't understand it," said the old man, turning pale.
"I do. He has cut a hole in the door, slipped back the bolt, andescaped. When could this have happened?"
"I don't know. Yes, I do remember, now, being disturbed last night by anoise in the entry. I got out of bed, and looked out, but could see noone."
"Did you come up-stairs?"
"Part way."
"When was this?"
"Past midnight."
"No doubt that was the time he escaped."
"That accounts for the door being locked," said the old man,thoughtfully.
"What door?"
"The outer door. When I got up this morning, I found the key haddisappeared, and the door was locked. Luckily we had an extra key, andso opened it."
"Probably he carried off the other in his pocket."
"Ah, he is a bold lad,--a bold lad," said Foley.
"You may find that out to your cost. He'll be likely to bring the policeabout your ears."
"Do you think so?" said the old man, in alarm.
"I think it more than probable."
"But he don't know the house," said Foley, in a tone of reassurance. "Itwas dark when he left here, and he will not be apt to find it again."
"Perhaps not, but he will be likely to know you when he sees you again.I advise you to keep pretty close."
"I certainly shall," said the old man, evidently alarmed by thissuggestion. "What a pity that such a bold lad shouldn't be in ourbusiness!"
"Perhaps you'll wish yourself out of it before long," muttered Peg.
As if in corroboration of her words, there was a sharp ring at thedoor-bell.
The old man, who was constitutionally timid, turned pale, and lookedhelplessly at his companion.
"What is it?" he asked, apprehensively.
"Go and see."
"I don't dare to."
"You're a coward," said Peg, contemptuously. "Then I'll go."
She went down stairs, followed by the old man. She threw open the streetdoor, but even her courage was somewhat daunted by the sight of twopolice officers, accompanied by Jack.
"That's the man," said Jack, pointing out Foley, who tried to concealhimself behind Mrs. Hardwick's more ample proportions.
"I have a warrant for your arrest," said one of the officers, advancingto Foley.
"Gentlemen, spare me," he said, clasping his hands. "What have I done?"
"You are charged with uttering counterfeit coin.
"I am innocent."
"If you are, that will come out on your trial."
"Shall I have to be tried?" he asked, piteously.
"Of course. If you are innocent, no harm will come to you."
Peg had been standing still, irresolute what to do. Determined upon abold step, she made a movement to pass the officers.
"Stop!" said Jack. "I call upon you to arrest that woman. She is theMrs. Hardwick against whom you have a warrant."
"What is all this for?" demanded Peg, haughtily. "What right have you tointerfere with me?"
"That will be made known to you in due time. You are suspected of beingimplicated with this man."
"I suppose I must yield," said Peg, sulkily. "But perhaps you, youngsir," turning to Jack, "may not be the gainer by it."
"Where is Ida?" asked Jack, anxiously.
"She is safe," said Peg, sententiously.
"You won't tell me where she is?"
"No. Why should I? I am indebted to you, I suppose, for this arrest. Sheshall be kept out of your way as long as it is in my power to do so."
Jack's countenance fell.
"At least you will tell me whether she is well?"
"I shall answer no questions whatever," said Mrs. Hardwick.
"Then I will find her," he said, gaining courage. "She is somewhere inthe city, and sooner or later I shall find her."
Peg was not one to betray her feelings, but this arrest was a greatdisappointment to her. Apart from the consequences which might resultfrom it, it would prevent her meeting with John Somerville, andobtaining from him the thousand dollars of which she had regardedherself certain. Yet even from her prison-cell she might hold over him_in terrorem_ the threat of making known to Ida's mother the secretof her child's existence. All was not lost. She walked quietly to thecarriage in waiting, while her companions, in an ecstasy of terror,seemed to have lost the power of locomotion, and had to be supported oneither side.
CHAPTER XXIV. "THE FLOWER-GIRL."