PEG had been thinking.
This was the substance of her reflections. Ida, whom she had kidnapped
for certain purposes of her own, was likely to prove an (sic)
incumbrance rather than a source of profit. The child, her suspicions
awakened in regard to the character of the money she had been employed
to pass off, was no longer available for that purpose. So firmly
resolved was she not to do what was wrong, that threats and persuasions
were alike unavailing. Added to this was the danger of her encountering
some one sent in search of her by the Crumps.
Under these circumstances, Peg bethought herself of the ultimate object
which she had proposed to herself in kidnapping Ida--that of extorting
money from a man who is now to be introduced to the reader.
John Somerville occupied a suite of apartments in a handsome
lodging-house on Walnut Street. A man wanting yet several years of
forty, he looked a greater age. Late hours and dissipation, though
kept within respectable limits, had left their traces on his face. At
twenty-one he inherited a considerable fortune, which, combined with
some professional practice (for he was a lawyer, and not without
ability), was quite sufficient to support him handsomely, and leave
a considerable surplus every year. But, latterly, he had contracted a
passion for gaming, and however shrewd he might be naturally, he
could hardly be expected to prove a match for the wily habitues of the
gaming-table, who had marked him as their prey.
The evening before he is introduced to the reader's notice he had,
passed till a late hour at a fashionable gambling-house, where he
had lost heavily. His reflections, on awakening, were not of the
pleasantest. For the first time, within fifteen years, he realized the
folly and imprudence of the course he had pursued. The evening previous
he had lost a thousand dollars, for which he had given his I O U. Where
to raise this money, he did not know. He bathed his aching head, and
cursed his ill luck, in no measured terms. After making his toilet, he
rang the bell, and ordered breakfast.
For this he had but scanty appetite. Scarcely had he finished, and
directed the removal of the dishes, than the servant entered to announce
a visitor.
“Is it a gentleman?” he inquired, hastily, fearing it might be a
creditor. He occasionally had such visitors.
“No, sir.”
“A lady?”
“No, sir.”
“A child? But what could a child want of me?”
“If it's neither a gentleman, lady, nor child,” said Somerville,
somewhat surprised, “will you have the goodness to inform me who it is?”
“It's a woman, sir,” said the servant, grinning.
“Why didn't you say so when I asked you?” said his employer, irritably.
“Because you asked if it was a lady, and this isn't--at least she don't
look like one.”
“You can send her up, whoever she is,” said Mr. Somerville.
A moment afterwards Peg entered the apartment.
John Somerville looked at her without much interest, supposing that she
might be a seamstress, or laundress, or some applicant for charity. So
many years had passed since he had met with this woman, that she had
passed out of his remembrance.
“Do you wish to see me about anything?” he asked, indifferently. “If so,
you must be quick, for I am just going out.”
“You don't seem to recognize me, Mr. Somerville,” said Peg, fixing her
keen black eyes upon his face.
“I can't say I do,” he replied, carelessly. “Perhaps you used to wash
for me once.”
“I am not in the habit of acting as laundress,” said the woman, proudly.
It is worth noticing that she was not above passing spurious coin, and
doing other things which are stamped as disreputable by the laws of
the land, but her pride revolted at the imputation that she was a
washer-woman.
“In that case,” said Somerville, carelessly, “you will have to tell me
who you are, for it is out of my power to conjecture.”
“Perhaps the name of Ida will assist your recollection,” said Peg,
composedly.
“Ida!” repeated John Somerville, changing color, and gazing now with
attention at the woman's features.
“Yes.”
“I have known several persons of that name,” he said, evasively. “Of
course, I can't tell which of them you refer to.”
“The Ida I mean was and is a child,” said Peg. “But, Mr. Somerville,
there's no use in beating about the bush, when I can come straight to
the point. It is now about eight years since my husband and myself
were employed in carrying off a child--a female child of about a year
old--named Ida. We placed it, according to your directions, on the
door-step of a poor family in New York, and they have since cared for it
as their own. I suppose you have not forgotten that.”
John Somerville deliberated. Should he deny it or not? He decided to put
a bold face on the matter.
“I remember it,” said he, “and now recall your features. How have
you fared since the time I employed you? Have you found your business
profitable?”
“Far from it,” answered Peg. “We are not yet able to retire on a
competence.”
“One of your youthful appearance,” said Solmerville, banteringly, “ought
not to think of retiring under ten years.”
Peg smiled. She knew how to appreciate this speech.
“I don't care for compliments,” said she, “even when they are sincere.
As for my youthful appearance, I am old enough to have reached the
age of discretion, and not so old as to have fallen into my second
childhood.”
“Compliments aside, then, will you proceed to whatever business has
brought you here?”
“I want a thousand dollars.”
“A thousand dollars!” repeated John Somerville. “Very likely, I should
like that amount myself. You have not come here to tell me that?”
“I have come here to ask that amount of you.”
“Suppose I should say that your husband is the proper person for you to
apply to in such a case.”
“I think I am more likely to get it out of you,” answered Peg, coolly.
“My husband couldn't supply me with a thousand cents, even if he were
willing, which is not likely.”
“Much as I am flattered by your application,” said Somerville, “since it
would seem to place me next in your estimation to your husband, I cannot
help suggesting that it is not usual to bestow such a sum on a stranger,
or even a friend, without an equivalent rendered.”
“I am ready to give you an equivalent.”
“Of what value?”
“I am willing to be silent.”
“And how can your silence benefit me?”
John Somerville asked this question with an assumption of indifference,
but his fingers twitched nervously.
“That _you_ will be best able to estimate,” said Peg.
“Explain yourself.”
“I can do that in a few words. You employed me to kidnap a child.
I believe the law has something to say about that. At any rate, the
child's mother may have.”
“What do you know about the child's mother?” demanded Somerville,
hastily.
“All about her!” returned Peg, emphatically.
“How am I to know that? It is easy to claim the knowledge.”
“Shall I tell you all? In the first place she married your 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 pain of
forfeiting her friendship forever. You left her presence, determined to
be revenged. With this object you sought Dick and myself, and employed
us to kidnap the child. There is the whole story, briefly told.”
John Somerville listened, with compressed lips and pale face.
“Woman, how came this within your knowledge?” he demanded, coarsely.
“That is of no consequence,” said Peg. “It was for my interest to find
out, and I did so.”
“Well?”
“I know one thing more--the residence of the child's mother. I hesitated
this morning whether to come here, or carry Ida to her mother, trusting
to her to repay from gratitude what I demand from you, because it is
your interest to comply with my request.”
“You speak of carrying the child to her mother. She is in New York.”
“You are mistaken,” said Peg, coolly. “She is in Philadelphia.”
“With you?”
“With me.”
“How long has this been?”
“Nearly a fortnight.”
John Somerville paced the room with hurried steps. Peg watched him
carelessly. She felt that she had succeeded. He paused after awhile, 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, no
matter how. But I can probably get it to-day. Call to-morrow at this
time,--no, in the afternoon, and I will see what I can do for you.”
“Very well,” said Peg.
Left to himself, John Somerville spent some time in reflection.
Difficulties encompassed him--difficulties from which he found it hard
to find a way of escape. He knew how impossible it would be to meet
this woman's demand. Something must be done. Gradually his countenance
lightened. He had decided what that something should be.