A HARD-HEARTED JAILER.
Florence soon recovered a degree of self-possession, and began to
consider the situation. The room in which she so unexpectedly found
herself a prisoner was about fifteen feet square. There were two front
windows, from which she took a survey of the neighborhood, which she had
but slightly observed from the windows of the carriage. She could see no
other house, and naturally concluded that this had been selected on
account of its lonely location.
The distance from the window-sill to the ground was not over twelve
feet, and Florence began to consider whether she could not manage to
escape in this way.
She tried to open one of the windows, but could not stir it. Closer
examination showed her that it had been nailed down. She went to the
second window, and found that secured in a similar way.
"They evidently anticipated that I would try to escape," she thought to
herself.
Next her thoughts recurred to the woman who appeared to be the mistress
of the house. Not that she had any intention of appealing to her
kindness of heart, for the hard-featured Mrs. Bradshaw was not a woman
likely to be influenced by any such considerations. Florence had enjoyed
but a transient view of the lady's features, but she already had a
tolerably correct idea of her character.
"She is probably mercenary," thought Florence, "and is in Orton
Campbell's pay. I must outbid him."
This thought inspired hope, especially when from the window she saw her
persecutor ride away on horseback. This would gave her a fair field and
a chance to try the effect of money upon her jailer without risk of
interruption. She would have felt less sanguine of success if she had
heard the conversation which had just taken place between Mrs. Bradshaw
and her captor:
"Mind, Mrs. Bradshaw, you must not let the young lady leave her room on
any consideration."
"All right, sir."
"I take it for granted, Mrs. Bradshaw, you are not easily taken in?"
"I should say not, sir," said the woman, emphatically.
"The young lady will try to impose upon you while I am away."
"Then she'd better save her trouble," said Mrs. Bradshaw, tossing her
head.
"She's very artful," said Orton. "Most crazy people are."
"You don't mean to say she's crazy?" said Mrs. Bradshaw in surprise.
"She don't look like it."
"You are quite right. She doesn't look like it, but she wrong here,"
continued Campbell, tapping his forehead. "Why, she fancies herself
immensely rich, Mrs. Bradshaw, when, as a matter of fact, she's a
penniless cousin of mine, who would have gone to the poorhouse but for
my father's charity."
"You don't say so!" exclaimed Mrs. Bradshaw, interested.
"Sometimes she thinks she's worth millions of dollars. I wish she were,
for in that case my father would be relieved of the burden of supporting
her."
"To be sure, sir!"
"Some time since she managed to elude our vigilance and escaped from our
home in Albany. Knowing how feeble-minded she was, we felt very anxious
about her, but for some time were unable to get a trace of her. Finally,
we learned that she had been seen in California, and I came out at great
personal inconvenience to bring her back."
"Very kind of you, sir, I am sure: but how could she travel so far
without money?"
"That is easily explained. She opened my father's desk and took out some
hundreds of dollars," answered Orton Campbell, with unblushing
falsehood. "Of course, we don't consider her responsible, as she is of
unsound mind. Otherwise, we should look upon her as very ungrateful."
"She seems to be very good-looking," observed Mrs. Bradshaw.
"So she is, and if her mind were healthy I can imagine that she would be
admired. As it is, her beauty counts for nothing."
"To be sure!"
"I hope to calm her down, and induce her without a violent disturbance
to embark on the next steamer for New York with me. She won't listen to
me now, but I shall call to-morrow forenoon and see how she appears.
Meanwhile, she will probably try to bribe you to release her. She may
promise you thousands, perhaps millions, of dollars, for it's all the
same to her, poor thing! But of course you're too sensible a woman to be
taken in by the promises of a crazy girl?"
"I should say so!" returned Mrs. Bradshaw, who was thoroughly deceived
by the artful story of her employer, who, by the way, had promised her
one hundred dollars for her co-operation in his scheme.
"She will probably tell you that she came to California in search of her
lover, who is at the mines. Of course there is no such person, but she
thinks there is."
"I understand," said the woman, confidently.
"I thought you would. Well, Mrs. Bradshaw, I will see you to-morrow. I
am sure you are to be relied upon."
About six o'clock Mrs. Bradshaw carried up some supper to her prisoner.
"I hope you've got an appetite, miss," she said.
"Stay a moment," said Florence, eagerly. "I want to speak to you."
"Now it's coming," thought Mrs. Bradshaw, with some curiosity. She was
rather taken aback by the first words of her prisoner:
"How much money has Mr. Orton Campbell promised to pay you for assisting
him in his plot?"
"Well, I declare!" said Mrs. Bradshaw, bridling, for though she had been
bribed she did not like to confess it.
"He is to pay me rent for this room," she said, after a pause.
"Then I am your lodger, am I?" asked Florence.
"I suppose so," answered the woman, rather embarrassed by this
unexpected question.
"Very well, then. I don't think I care to occupy the room. I will pay
you a week's rent out of my own purse, and leave you after supper."
"I think not," said Mrs. Bradshaw, decidedly.
"Then I am to consider myself your prisoner?"
"You may call it so if you like."
"It is just as well to call things by their right names. Of course Mr.
Campbell has hired you to detain me here. Tell me how much he is to pay
you, and I will pay you more to release me."
"Then you are rich, I suppose?" said the woman.
"Yes, I am rich."
Mrs. Bradshaw laughed. "You are worth several millions, I suppose?" she
said, mockingly.
"Certainly not. Who told you so?"
"Mr. Campbell warned me that you would pretend you were rich."
"It is no pretence; I am rich, though at present his father has the
greater part of my fortune under his charge."
"Oh, of course!" said the woman, laughing again. "I understand all about
it."
"What has Orton Campbell told you?" asked Florence, suspiciously.
"He said you would pretend to be rich, and try to bribe me, though you
were only a poor relation of his who would have gone to the poorhouse
unless his father had supported you out of charity."
"He has deceived you, Mrs. Bradshaw. His father wanted me to marry this
man in order to keep my fortune in his own family. That is why I ran
away from his house."
"What made you come to California?" asked the woman.
"Because the man whom I really loved was at work somewhere in the
mines."
"Ho! ho!" laughed Mrs. Bradshaw, loudly.
"Why do you laugh?"
"Because you are as crazy as a loon. Mr. Campbell told me just what you
would say. He told me all about your stealing money from his father's
desk, and running off to California after a lover in the mines. It's
turned out exactly as he said."
"Did he dare to slander me in that way?" demanded Florence, so
indignantly that her jailer drew back in some alarm.
"No violence, miss, if you please," she said. "You'd better be quiet, or
you'll have to be tied."
"Good Heavens!" exclaimed Florence, "I would not have believed Orton
Campbell so false and artful!"
"He's acting for your good, miss. So you'd better not make a fuss;" and
the landlady left the room, not failing to lock the door securely behind
her.