NO. 77 AMITY STREET.
The next day was Sunday, but this circumstance did not deter Lapierre
from hitching up his horse and conveying his guest down to Millbrook at
an early hour. The pair called at the house of Mrs. Savareen's father
before ten o'clock, and had a long interview with him. Church services
began at eleven, but it was remarked by the Methodist congregation, and
commented upon as a thing almost without precedent, that Mrs. Savareen
and her father were both absent on that day.
The old gentleman was much disturbed by what he heard from Mr. Haskins.
His daughter had passed through an ordeal of great suffering, and had
finally become reconciled to her lot. To tell her this news would be to
open the old wounds afresh, and to bring back the domestic grief which
time had about dispelled. Yet his course seemed clear. To tell her the
truth was an imperative duty. It would be shameful to permit her to go
on mourning for one who was in every way unworthy, and who might turn
up at any unexpected moment to the destruction of her peace of mind.
Moreover, the secret was already known to too many persons to admit of
any hope that it would be permanently kept. She must be told, and there
could be no question that her father was the proper person to tell her.
She would, however, wish to personally see and converse with the man
who had brought the news, so there was no time to be lost. Leaving his
two visitors to await his return, the old man set out with a sad heart
for his daughter's house. He found her and her little boy just ready to
set out for church, but the first glance at her father's face told her
that something had happened, and that there would be no church-going
for that day. She sat pale and trembling as she listened, and the old
man himself was not much more composed. He broke the news as gently as
he could, and she bore it better than he had expected, suppressing her
agitation and taking in all the details without interruption. Even when
all the circumstances had been laid before her, her self-command did
not desert her. Yes, she must see the stranger from Tennessee. Possibly
she might extract something from him which others had failed to elicit.
Her father accordingly went back to his own home, and brought Mr.
Haskins over. The three spent several hours in talking of the affair,
but the stranger had nothing more to tell, and finally took his leave,
promising to call on his way back from Spotswood.
Father and daughter spent the evening together, and tried to reach some
definite conclusion as to what, if anything, ought to be done. There
could be no reasonable doubt that Randall and Savareen were one. Since
there was just the shadow of doubt, and the want of absolute certainty,
made it impossible for Mrs. Savareen to leave the matter as it stood.
She felt that she must know the whole truth.
A course was finally decided upon. Father and daughter would start for
New York without delay and probe the matter to the bottom. The news
could not wholly be kept from the stepmother, but she was enjoined to
maintain a strict silence on the subject until further light should be
thrown upon it. Master Reginald was temporarily left in her charge.
They started for New York by the mid-day express on Monday, and reached
their destination on Tuesday afternoon. Lodgings were secured at a
quiet, respectable hotel, and then the old man set out alone to hunt up
Hitchcock's stable. He had no difficulty in finding it, and the man in
charge of the office readily gave him the information he sought. Jack
Randall was no longer employed at the establishment, but he lodged with
his wife at No. 77 Amity street. The best time to catch him at home was
early in the morning. He was of a convivial turn, and generally spent
his evenings about town. He was supposed to be pretty hard up, but that
was his chronic condition, and, so far as known, he was not in absolute
want. With these tidings the father returned to his daughter.
Mrs. Savareen could not bear the idea of permitting the evening to pass
without some further effort. She determined to pay a visit to 77 Amity
street, in person, and if possible to see the man's wife for herself. A
servant-maid in the hotel undertook to pilot her to her destination,
which was but a short distance away. It was about eight o'clock when
she set out and the light of day was fast disappearing. Upon reaching
the corner of Amity street and Broadway, she dismissed her attendant
and made the rest of the journey alone. The numbers on the doors of the
houses were a sufficient direction for her, and she soon found herself
ringing at the bell of 77.
Her summons was answered by a seedy-looking porter. Yes, Mrs. Randall
was upstairs in her room on the third story. Mr. Randall was out. The
lady could easily find the way for herself. Second door to the left on
the third flat. Straight up. And so saying the man disappeared into the
darkness at the rear of the house, leaving the visitor to group her way
up two dimly-lighted stairways as best she could.
The place was evidently a lodging-house of very inferior description to
be so near the palatial temples of commerce just round the corner. The
halls were uncarpeted, and, indeed, without the least sign of furniture
of any sort. As Mrs. Savareen slowly ascended one flight of stairs
after another, she began to wonder if she had not done an unwise thing
in venturing alone into a house and locality of which she knew nothing.
Having reached the third story she found herself in total darkness,
except for such faint twilight as found its way through a back window.
This however was just sufficient to enable her to perceive the second
door on the left. She advanced towards it and knocked. A female voice
responded by an invitation to enter. She quietly turned the knob of the
door and advanced into the room.