"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 the woman, well satisfied.

Left to himself, John Somerville spent some time in reflection.

Difficulties encompa.s.sed him--difficulties from which he found it hard to find a way of escape. He knew how difficult it would be to meet this woman's demand. Gradually his countenance lightened. He had decided what that something should be.

When Peg left John Somerville's apartments, it was with a high degree of satisfaction at the result of the interview. All had turned out as she wished. She looked upon the thousand dollars as already hers. The considerations which she had urged would, she was sure, induce him to make every effort to secure her silence.

Then, with a thousand dollars, what might not be done? She would withdraw from the business, for one thing. It was too hazardous. Why might not d.i.c.k and she retire to the country, lease a country inn, and live an honest life hereafter? There were times when she grew tired of the life she lived at present. It would be pleasant to go to some place where they were not known, and enroll themselves among the respectable members of the community. She was growing old; she wanted rest and a quiet home. Her early years had been pa.s.sed in the country. She remembered still the green fields in which she played as a child, and to this woman, old and sin-stained, there came a yearning to have that life return.

But her dream was rudely broken by her encounter with the officers of the law at the house of her employer.

CHAPTER x.x.xII

A PROVIDENTIAL MEETING

"By gracious, if that isn't Ida!" exclaimed Jack, in profound surprise.

He had been sauntering along Chestnut Street, listlessly troubled by the thought that though he had given Mrs. Hardwick into custody, he was apparently no nearer the discovery of his young ward than before. What steps should he take to find her? He could not decide. In his perplexity his eyes rested suddenly upon the print of the "Flower Girl."

"Yes," he said, "that is Ida, fast enough. Perhaps they will know in the store where she is to be found."

He at once entered the store.

"Can you tell me anything about the girl in that picture?" he asked, abruptly, of the nearest clerk.

"It is a fancy picture," he said. "I think you would need a long time to find the original."

"It has taken a long time," said Jack. "But you are mistaken. That is a picture of my sister."

"Of your sister!" repeated the salesman, with surprise, half incredulous.

"Yes," persisted Jack. "She is my sister."

"If it is your sister," said the clerk, "you ought to know where she is."

Jack was about to reply, when the attention of both was called by a surprised exclamation from a lady who had paused beside them. Her eyes also were fixed upon the "Flower Girl."

"Who is this?" she asked, in visible excitement. "Is it taken from life?"

"This young man says it is his sister," said the clerk.

"Your sister?" repeated the lady, her eyes fixed inquiringly upon Jack.

In her tone there was a mingling both of surprise and disappointment.

"Yes, madam," answered Jack, respectfully.

"Pardon me," she said, "there is very little personal resemblance. I should not have suspected that you were her brother."

"She is not my own sister," explained Jack, "but I love her just the same."

"Do you live in Philadelphia? Could I see her?" asked the lady, eagerly.

"I live in New York, madam," said Jack; "but Ida was stolen from us about three weeks since, and I have come here in pursuit of her. I have not been able to find her yet."

"Did you call her Ida?" demanded the lady, in strange agitation.

"Yes, madam."

"My young friend," said the woman, rapidly, "I have been much interested in the story of your sister. I should like to hear more, but not here.

Would you have any objection to coming home with me, and telling me the rest? Then we will together concert measures for recovering her."

"You are very kind, madam," said Jack, bashfully; for the lady was elegantly dressed, and it had never been his fortune to converse with a lady of her social position. "I shall be glad to go home with you, and shall be very much obliged for your advice and a.s.sistance."

"Then we will drive home at once."

With natural gallantry, Jack a.s.sisted the lady into the carriage, and, at her bidding, got in himself.

"Home, Thomas!" she directed the driver; "and drive as fast as possible."

"Yes, madam."

"How old was your sister when your parents adopted her?" asked Mrs. Clifton.

Jack afterward ascertained that this was her name.

"About a year old, madam."

"And how long since was that?" asked the lady, waiting for the answer with breathless interest.

"Seven years since. She is now eight."

"It must be," murmured the lady, in low tones. "If it is indeed, as I hope, my life will indeed be blessed."

"Did you speak, madam?"

"Tell me under what circ.u.mstances your family adopted her."

Jack related briefly how Ida had been left at their door in her infancy.