"In No. 4?"
"Yes. And the wine and cigars all waiting for you."
"Good."
"You'd better not go through the parlor. Their old man's not at all
satisfied. He half suspects they're in the house. Better go off down
the street, and come back and enter through the passage."
The young men, acting on this hint, at once retired, the eyes of
Harrison following them out.
For nearly an hour Mr. Harrison kept his position, a close observer of
all that transpired. I am very much in error, if, before leaving that
sink of iniquity, he was not fully satisfied as to the propriety of
legislating on the liquor question. Nay, I incline to the opinion,
that, if the power of suppression had rested in his hands, there would
not have been, in the whole state, at the expiration of an hour, a
single dram-selling establishment. The goring of his ox had opened his
eyes to the true merits of the question. While he was yet in the
bar-room, young Hammond made his appearance. His look was wild and
excited. First he called for brandy, and drank with the eagerness of a
man long athirst.
"Where is Green?" I heard him inquire, as he set his glass upon the
counter.
"Haven't seen anything of him since supper," was answered by Matthew.
"Is he in his room?"
"I think it probable."
"Has Judge Lyman been about here tonight?"
"Yes. He spouted here for half an hour against the temperance party, as
usual, and then"--Matthew tossed his head toward the door leading to
the sitting-room.
Hammond was moving toward this door, when, in glancing around the room,
he encountered the fixed gaze of Mr. Harrison--a gaze that instantly
checked his progress. Returning to the bar, and leaning over the
counter, he said to Matthew:
"What has sent him here?"
Matthew winked knowingly.
"After the boys?" inquired Hammond.
"Yes."
"Where are they?"
"Up-stairs."
"Does he suspect this?"
"I can't tell. If he doesn't think them here now, he is looking for
them to come in."
"Do they know he is after them?"
"Oh, yes."
"All safe then?"
"As an iron chest. If you want to see them, just rap at No. 4."
Hammond stood for some minutes leaning on the bar, and then, not once
again looking toward that part of the room where Mr. Harrison was
seated, passed out through the door leading to the street. Soon
afterward Mr. Harrison departed.
Disgusted as on the night before, with the unceasing flow of vile,
obscene, and profane language, I left my place of observation in the
bar-room and sought the open air. The sky was unobscured by a single
cloud, and the moon, almost at the full, shone abroad with more than
common brightness. I had not been sitting long in the porch, when the
same lady, whose movements had attracted my attention, came in sight,
walking very slowly--the deliberate pace assumed, evidently, for the
purpose of better observation. On coming opposite the tavern, she
slightly paused, as on the evening before, and then kept on, passing
down the street until she was beyond observation.
"Poor mother!" I was still repeating to myself, when her form again met
my eyes. Slowly she advanced, and now came in nearer to the house. The
interest excited in my mind was so strong, that I could not repress the
desire I felt to address her, and so stepped from the shadow of the
porch. She seemed startled, and retreated backward several paces.
"Are you in search of any one?" I inquired, respectfully.
The woman now stood in a position that let the moon shine full upon her
face, revealing every feature. She was far past the meridian of life;
and there were lines of suffering and sorrow on her fine countenance. I
saw that her lips moved, but it was some time before I distinguished
the words.
"Have you seen my son to-night? They say he comes here."
The manner in which this was said caused a cold thrill to run over me.
I perceived that the woman's mind wandered. I answered:
"No, ma'am; I haven't seen any thing of him."
My tone of voice seemed to inspire her with confidence, for she came up
close to me, and bent her face toward mine.
"It is a dreadful place," she whispered, huskily. "And they say he
comes here. Poor boy! He isn't what he used to be."
"It is a very bad place," said I. "Come"--and I moved a step or two in
the direction from which I had seen her approaching--"come, you'd
better go away as quickly as possible."
"But if he's here," she answered, not moving from where she stood, "I
might save him, you know."
"I am sure you won't find him, ma'am," I urged. "Perhaps he is home,
now."
"Oh, no! no!" And she shook her head mournfully. "He never comes home
until long after midnight. I wish I could see inside of the bar-room.
I'm sure he must be there."
"If you will tell me his name, I will go in and search for him."
After a moment of hesitation she answered:
"His name is Willy Hammond."
How the name, uttered so sadly, and yet with such moving tenderness by
the mother's lips, caused me to start--almost to tremble.
"If he is in the house, ma'am," said I, firmly, "I will see him for
you." And I left her and went into the bar.
"In what room do you think I will find young Hammond?" I asked of the
bar-keeper. He looked at me curiously, but did not answer. The question
had come upon him unanticipated.
"In Harvey Green's room?" I pursued.
"I don't know, I am sure. He isn't in the house to my knowledge. I saw
him go out about half an hour since."
"Green's room is No.----?"
"Eleven," he answered.
"In the front part of the house?"
"Yes."
I asked no further question, but went to No. 11, and tapped on the
door. But no one answered the summons. I listened, but could not
distinguish the slightest sound within. Again I knocked; but louder. If
my ears did not deceive me, the chink of coin was heard. Still there
was neither voice nor movement.
I was disappointed. That the room had inmates, I felt sure.
Remembering, now, what I had heard about light being seen in this room
through a rent in the curtain, I went down-stairs, and out into the
street. A short distance beyond the house, I saw, dimly, the woman's
form. She had only just passed in her movement to and fro. Glancing up
at the window, which I now knew to be the one in Green's room, light
through the torn curtain was plainly visible. Back into the house I
went, and up to No. 11. This time I knocked imperatively; and this time
made myself heard.
"What's wanted?" came from within. I knew the voice to be that of
Harvey Green.
I only knocked louder. A hurried movement and the low murmur of voices
was heard for some moments; then the door was unlocked and held partly
open by Green, whose body so filled the narrow aperture that I could
not look into the room. Seeing me, a dark scowl fell upon his
countenance.
"What d'ye want?" he inquired, sharply.
"Is Mr. Hammond here? If so, he is wanted downstairs."
"No, he's not," was the quick answer. "What sent you here for him, hey?"
"The fact that I expected to find him in your room," was my firm answer.
Green was about shutting the door in my face, when some one placed a
hand on his shoulder, and said something to him that I could not hear.
"Who wants to see him?" he inquired of me.
Satisfied, now, that Hammond was in the room, I said, slightly
elevating my voice:
"His mother."
The words were an "open sesame" to the room. The door was suddenly
jerked open, and with a blanching face, the young man confronted me.
"Who says my mother is down-stairs?" he demanded.
"I come from her in search of you," I said. "You will find her in the
road, walking up and down in front of the tavern."
Almost with a bound he swept by me, and descended the stairway at two
or three long strides. As the door swung open, I saw besides Green and
Hammond, the landlord and Judge Lyman. It needed not the loose cards on
the table near which the latter were sitting to tell me of their
business in that room.
As quickly as seemed decorous, I followed Hammond. On the porch I met
him, coming in from the road.
"You have deceived me, sir," said he, sternly--almost menacingly.
"No, sir!" I replied. "What I told you was but too true. Look! There
she is now."
The young man sprung around, and stood before the woman, a few paces
distant.
"Mother! oh, mother! what HAS brought you here?" he exclaimed, in an
under tone, as he caught her arm, and moved away. He spoke--not
roughly, nor angrily--but with respect--half reproachfulness--and an
unmistakable tenderness.
"Oh, Willy! Willy!" I heard her answer. "Somebody said you came here at
night, and I couldn't rest. Oh, dear. They'll murder you! I know they
will. Don't, oh!--"
My ears took in the sense no further, though her pleading voice still
reached my ears. A few moments, and they were out of sight.
Nearly two hours afterward, as I was ascending to my chamber, a man
brushed quickly by me. I glanced after him, and recognized the person
of young Hammond. He was going to the room of Harvey Green!