Timothy Crump's Ward Part 32

"But he don't know the house," said Foley, in a tone of rea.s.surance. "It was dark when he left here, and he will not be apt to find it again."

"Perhaps not, but lie will be likely to know you when he sees you again.

I advise you to keep pretty close."

"I certainly shall," said the old man, evidently alarmed by this suggestion. "What a pity that such a bold lad shouldn't be in our business!"

"Perhaps you'll wish yourself out of it before long," muttered Peg.

As if in corroboration of her words, there was a sharp ring at the door-bell.

The old man, who was const.i.tutionally timid, turned pale, and looked helplessly at his companion.

"What is it?" he asked, apprehensively.

"Go and see."

"I don't dare to."

"You're a coward," said Peg, contemptuously. "Then I'll go."

She went down stairs, followed by the old man. She threw open the street door, but even her courage was somewhat daunted by the sight of two police officers, accompanied by Jack.

"That's the man," said Jack, pointing out Foley, who tried to conceal himself behind Mrs. Hardwick's more ample proportions.

"I have a warrant for your arrest," said one of the officers, advancing to Foley.

"Gentlemen, spare me," he said, clasping his hands. "What have I done?"

"You are charged with uttering counterfeit coin.

"I am innocent."

"If you are, that will come out on your trial."

"Shall I have to be tried?" he asked, piteously.

"Of course. If you are innocent, no harm will come to you."

Peg had been standing still, irresolute what to do. Determined upon a bold step, she made a movement to pa.s.s the officers.

"Stop!" said Jack. "I call upon you to arrest that woman. She is the Mrs. Hardwick against whom you have a warrant."

"What is all this for?" demanded Peg, haughtily. "What right have you to interfere with me?"

"That will be made known to you in due time. You are suspected of being implicated with this man."

"I suppose I must yield," said Peg, sulkily. "But perhaps you, young sir," turning to Jack, "may not be the gainer by it."

"Where is Ida?" asked Jack, anxiously.

"She is safe," said Peg, sententiously.

"You won't tell me where she is?"

"No. Why should I? I am indebted to you, I suppose, for this arrest. She shall be kept out of your way as long as it is in my power to do so."

Jack's countenance fell.

"At least you will tell me whether she is well?"

"I shall answer no questions whatever," said Mrs. Hardwick.

"Then I will find her," he said, gaining courage. "She is somewhere in the city, and sooner or later I shall find her."

Peg was not one to betray her feelings, but this arrest was a great disappointment to her. Apart from the consequences which might result from it, it would prevent her meeting with John Somerville, and obtaining from him the thousand dollars of which she had regarded herself certain. Yet even from her prison-cell she might hold over him _in terrorem_ the threat of making known to Ida's mother the secret of her child's existence. All was not lost. She walked quietly to the carriage in waiting, while her companions, in an ecstasy of terror, seemed to have lost the power of locomotion, and had to be supported on either side.

CHAPTER XXIV. "THE FLOWER-GIRL."

"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 foster-sister than before.

What steps should he take to find her? He could not decide. In his perplexity he came suddenly upon the print of the "Flower-Girl."

"Yes," said he, "that is Ida, plain 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 that picture was taken for?" he asked, abruptly of the nearest clerk.

The clerk smiled.

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

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

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

There was some reason for his incredulity. Jack was a stout, good-looking boy, with a pleasant face; but Ida's beauty was of a delicate, refined type, which argued gentle birth,--her skin of a brilliant whiteness, dashed by a tinge of rose,--exhibiting a physical perfection, which it requires several generations of refined habits and exemptions from the coa.r.s.er burdens of life to produce. The perfection of human development is not wholly a matter of chance, but is dependent, in no small degree, upon outward conditions. We frequently see families who have sprung from poverty to wealth exhibiting, in the younger branches, marked improvement in this respect.

"Yes;" said Jack, "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."