Jess of the Rebel Trail | Page 3

see him as the little babe I held to my breast. If you know where he is, tell me. I must see him somehow, though he must never know who I am."
"What about the girl, your daughter?" the man questioned. "She must be a comfort to you now, and well takes the place of--of your son."
"Nothing can ever take his place," the woman vehemently declared. I thought so once, fool that I was. But I know better now when it is too late. Where is he? For God's sake, tell me!"
"And you have had no word from him?" the man asked.
"Nothing. I do not even know the woman's name who took him. I thought I would never want to know."
"Then, madame, it is better for you to remain in ignorance. It would do you no good now to learn anything about him. I, at any rate, shall not enlighten you."
"You won't?"
"No, not now."
"Then why have you come here to-night to inflict this torture upon me? What good can it do to increase the agony of my tormented soul? Surely I have endured enough already."
"I come, madame, merely as a stand-between. Business with me has been dull of late, as I have just told you. Therefore, when one door closes another opens. I am not a man to let a good opportunity of earning a few honest dollars slip. I know your story, and, accordingly, am here to receive payment."
"Payment! For what?" the woman asked in amazement.
"For silence. I suppose you don't want this matter known?"
"Good heavens, no! What would my husband and daughter think? Why, I could never face the world again."
"Very well, madame. I am pleased to know that you realise the situation," and the man smiled blandly upon his victim. He was succeeding much better than he had expected. "I shall see that this matter is kept a profound secret."
"Oh, will you?" and the woman looked her relief.
"Indeed I will, providing you make it worth while. I am always open for business."
The woman looked keenly at the man.
"Do I understand that you want to be paid for keeping silent?" she at length found voice to ask.
"Certainly. That's what I'm here for. Business is business, remember, and if I cannot make a living at my regular profession, I must turn to the next best thing that offers."
"But this is a hold-up. Are you not afraid to do such a thing?"
"Afraid! Of what?"
The sudden flush that mantled the woman's face plainly showed that she understood. The man noted it, and smiled.
"You realise the situation, madame, I see. That is very fortunate. I have nothing to fear, as you would do almost anything rather than let your secret be known."
"But suppose I do not accede to your demand, what then?"
"That would remain for you to find out, madame. Are you willing to run the risk?"
"Heavens, no! It must not be. What is your price? Tell me quick, and let us get through with this painful interview."
"Willingly, madame. I am as anxious to get through as you are. My price is very moderate, considering the favor I am bestowing upon you. I want five hundred dollars."
"Five hundred dollars!" The woman gasped as she stared at her visitor. "Why, you are a scoundrel, and nothing less."
Grimsby smiled, and rubbed his hands. He felt sure of his quarry, and it mattered little to him what he was called. It was all in the way of business, so he told himself. Then he picked up his hat from the floor where he had deposited it, and made as though he was about to leave.
"Very well, then," he casually remarked. "If you think it is too much I am sorry. Next week, perhaps, you will consider it very cheap, and would be willing to give far more. But it may be too late then. However, if you are unwilling to meet my moderate demand, it is no use for me to remain longer."
He started to leave the fire-place, but the woman detained him.
"Don't go just yet," she ordered. "I realise that I must give you something. But isn't your price exorbitant?"
"It might be for some, but not for you, Mrs. Randall. I understand that you are one of the largest tax-payers in this city, and in your own name at that. Why, I am astonished at myself for my moderation in asking for so little from such a rich woman. I might have made it a thousand at least."
For a few minutes the woman remained in deep thought. Grimsby never took his eyes from her face. He was quite elated with himself, for he felt sure of success.
At length the woman gave a weary sigh, rose slowly from her chair, and crossing the room, sat down before a handsome writing-table. When she at last came back