Part 31 (1/2)
His conscience was not quite easy. The sense of having forgotten Regina--no matter how naturally and excusably--oppressed him with a feeling of self-reproach. Rufus raised no objection; the hesitation of Amelius was unquestionably creditable to him. ”If you must do it, my son,” he said, ”do it right away--and we'll wait for you.”
Amelius took up his hat. The door opened as he approached it, and Mrs.
Payson entered the room, leading Simple Sally by the hand.
”We are all going together,” said the genial old lady, ”to see my large family of daughters at the Home. We can have our talk in the carriage.
It's an hour's drive from this place--and I must be back again to dinner at half-past seven.”
Amelius and Rufus looked at each other. Amelius thought of pleading an engagement, and asking to be excused. Under the circ.u.mstances, it was a.s.suredly not a very gracious thing to do. Before he could make up his mind, one way or the other, Sally stole to his side, and put her hand on his arm. Mrs. Payson had done wonders in conquering the girl's inveterate distrust of strangers, and, to a certain extent at least, winning her confidence. But no early influence could shake Sally's dog-like devotion to Amelius. Her jealous instinct discovered something suspicious in his sudden silence. ”You must go with us,” she said, ”I won't go without you.”
”Certainly not,” Mrs. Payson added; ”I promised her that, of course, beforehand.”
Rufus rang the bell, and despatched the messenger to Regina. ”That's the one way out of it, my son,” he whispered to Amelius, as they followed Mrs. Payson and Sally down the stairs of the hotel.
They had just driven up to the gates of the Home, when Jervy and his accomplice met at the tavern, and entered on their consultation in a private room.
In spite of her poverty-stricken appearance, Mrs. Sowler was not absolutely dest.i.tute. In various underhand and wicked ways, she contrived to put a few s.h.i.+llings in her pocket from week to week. If she was half starved, it was for the very ordinary reason, among persons of her vicious cla.s.s, that she preferred spending her money on drink.
Stating his business with her, as reservedly and as cunningly as usual, Jervy found, to his astonishment, that even this squalid old creature presumed to bargain with him. The two wretches were on the point of a quarrel which might have delayed the execution of the plot against Mrs.
Farnaby, but for the vile self-control which made Jervy one of the most formidable criminals living. He gave way on the question of money--and, from that moment, he had Mrs. Sowler absolutely at his disposal.
”Meet me to-morrow morning, to receive your instructions,” he said. ”The time is ten sharp; and the place is the powder-magazine in Hyde Park.
And mind this! You must be decently dressed--you know where to hire the things. If I smell you of spirits to-morrow morning, I shall employ somebody else. No; not a farthing now. You will have your money--first instalment only, mind!--to-morrow at ten.”
Left by himself, Jervy sent for pen, ink, and paper. Using his left hand, which was just as serviceable to him as his right, he traced these lines:--
”You are informed, by an unknown friend, that a certain lost young lady is now living in a foreign country, and may be restored to her afflicted mother on receipt of a sufficient sum to pay expenses, and to reward the writer of this letter, who is undeservedly, in distressed circ.u.mstances.
”Are you, madam, the mother? I ask the question in the strictest confidence, knowing nothing certainly but that your husband was the person who put the young lady out to nurse in her infancy.
”I don't address your husband, because his inhuman desertion of the poor baby does not incline me to trust him. I run the risk of trusting you--to a certain extent--at starting. Shall I drop a hint which may help you to identify the child, in your own mind? It would be inexcusably foolish on my part to speak too plainly, just yet. The hint must be a vague one. Suppose I use a poetical expression, and say that the young lady is enveloped in mystery from head to foot--especially the foot?
”In the event of my addressing the right person, I beg to offer a suggestion for a preliminary interview.
”If you will take a walk on the bridge over the Serpentine River, on Kensington Gardens side, at half-past ten o'clock to-morrow morning, holding a white handkerchief in your left hand, you will meet the much-injured woman, who was deceived into taking charge of the infant child at Ramsgate, and will be satisfied so far that you are giving your confidence to persons who really deserve it.”
Jervy addressed this infamous letter to Mrs. Farnaby, in an ordinary envelope, marked ”Private.” He posted it, that night, with his own hand.
CHAPTER 4
”Rufus! I don't quite like the way you look at me. You seem to think--”
”Give it tongue, my son. What do I seem to think?”
”You think I'm forgetting Regina. You don't believe I'm just as fond of her as ever. The fact is, you're an old bachelor.”
”That is so. Where's the harm, Amelius?”
”I don't understand--”
”You're out there, my bright boy. I reckon I understand more than you think for. The wisest thing you ever did in your life is what you did this evening, when you committed Sally to the care of those ladies at the Home.”
”Good night, Rufus. We shall quarrel if I stay here any longer.”