Part 16 (1/2)

Mrs. Bray shook her head:

”Afraid I can't do much with her.”

”Why?” an anxious expression coming into Mrs. Dinneford's face.

”These people suspect everybody; there is no honor nor truth in them, and they judge every one by themselves. She half accused me of getting a larger amount of money from you, and putting her off with the paltry sum of thirty dollars.”

Mrs. Bray looked exceedingly hurt and annoyed.

”Threatened,” she went on, ”to go to you herself--didn't want any go-betweens nor brokers. I expected to hear you say that she'd been at your house this morning.”

”Good Gracious! no!” Mrs. Dinneford's face was almost distorted with alarm.

”It's the way with all these people,” coolly remarked Mrs. Bray. ”You're never safe with them.”

”Did you hint at her leaving the city?--going to New Orleans, for instance?”

”Oh dear, no! She isn't to be managed in that way--is deeper and more set than I thought. The fact is, Mrs. Dinneford”--and Mrs. Bray lowered her voice and looked shocked and mysterious--”I'm beginning to suspect her as being connected with a gang.”

”With a gang? What kind of a gang?” Mrs. Dinneford turned slightly pale.

”A gang of thieves. She isn't the right thing; I found that out long ago. You remember what I said when you gave her the child. I told you that she was not a good woman, and that it was a cruel thing to put a helpless, new-born baby into her hands.”

”Never mind about that.” Mrs. Dinneford waved her hand impatiently.

”The baby's out of her hands, so far as that is concerned. A gang of thieves!”

”Yes, I'm 'most sure of it. Goes to people's houses on one excuse and another, and finds out where the silver is kept and how to get in. You don't know half the wickedness that's going on. So you see it's no use trying to get her away.”

Mrs. Bray was watching the face of her visitor with covert scrutiny, gauging, as she did so, by its weak alarms, the measure of her power over her.

”Dreadful! dreadful!” e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed Mrs. Dinneford, with dismay.

”It's bad enough,” said Mrs. Bray, ”and I don't see the end of it. She's got you in her power, and no mistake, and she isn't one of the kind to give up so splendid an advantage. I'm only surprised that she's kept away so long.”

”What's to be done about it?” asked Mrs. Dinneford, her alarm and distress increasing.

”Ah! that's more than I can tell,” coolly returned Mrs. Bray. ”One thing is certain--I don't want to have anything more to do with her. It isn't safe to let her come here. You'll have to manage her yourself.”

”No, no, no, Mrs. Bray! You mustn't desert me!” answered Mrs. Dinneford, her face growing pallid with fear. ”Money is of no account. I'll pay 'most anything, reasonable or unreasonable, to have her kept away.”

And she drew out her pocket-book while speaking. At this moment there came two distinct raps on the door. It had been locked after Mrs.

Dinneford's entrance. Mrs. Bray started and changed countenance, turning her face quickly from observation. But she was self-possessed in an instant. Rising, she said in a whisper,

”Go silently into the next room, and remain perfectly still. I believe that's the woman now. I'll manage her as best I can.”

Almost as quick as thought, Mrs. Dinneford vanished through a door that led into an adjoining room, and closing it noiselessly, turned a key that stood in the lock, then sat down, trembling with nervous alarm. The room in which she found herself was small, and overlooked the street; it was scantily furnished as a bed-room. In one corner, partly hid by a curtain that hung from a hoop fastened to the wall, was an old wooden chest, such as are used by sailors. Under the bed, and pushed as far back as possible, was another of the same kind. The air of the room was close, and she noticed the stale smell of a cigar.

A murmur of voices from the room she had left so hastily soon reached her ears; but though she listened intently, standing close to the door, she was not able to distinguish a word. Once or twice she was sure that she heard the sound of a man's voice. It was nearly a quarter of an hour by her watch--it seemed two hours--before Mrs. Bray's visitor or visitors retired; then there came a light rap on the door. She opened it, and stood face to face again with the dark-eyed little woman.

”You kept me here a long time,” said Mrs. Dinneford, with ill-concealed impatience.