“Perhaps the name of Ida will assist your recollection; or have you forgotten that name, too?”

“Ida!” repeated John Somerville, throwing off his indifferent manner, and surveying the woman’s features attentively.  “Yes.”

“I have known several persons of that name,” he said, recovering his former indifferent manner.  “I haven’t the slightest idea to which of them you refer.  You don’t look as if it was your name,” he added, with a laugh.

“The Ida I mean was and is a child,” she said.  “But there’s no use in beating about the bush, Mr. Somerville, when I can come straight to the point.  It is now about seven years since my husband and myself were employed to carry off a child—­a female child of a year old—­named Ida.  You were the man who employed us.”  She said this deliberately, looking steadily in his face.  “We placed it, according to your directions, on the doorstep of a poor family in New York, and they have since cared for it as their own.  I suppose you have not forgotten that?”

“I remember it,” he said, “and now recall your features.  How have you fared since I employed you?  Have you found your business profitable?”

“Far from it,” answered Peg.  “I am not yet able to retire on a competence.”

“One of your youthful appearance,” said Somerville, banteringly, “ought not to think of retiring under ten years.”

“I don’t care for compliments,” she said, “even when they are sincere.  As for my youthful appearance, I am old enough to have reached the age of discretion, and not so old as to have fallen into my second childhood.”

“Compliments aside, then, will you proceed to whatever business brought you here?”

“I want a thousand dollars,” said Peg, abruptly.

“A thousand dollars!” repeated Somerville.  “Very likely.  I should like that amount myself.  Did you come here to tell me that?”

“I have come here to ask you to give me that amount.”

“Have you a husband?”

“Yes.”

“Then let me suggest that your husband is the proper person to apply to in such a case.”

“I think I am more likely to get it out of you,” said Peg, coolly.  “My husband couldn’t supply me with a thousand cents, even if he were willing.”

“Much as I am flattered by your application,” said Somerville, with a polite sneer, “since it would seem to place me next in estimation to your husband, I cannot help suggesting that it is not usual to bestow such a sum on a stranger, or even a friend, without an equivalent rendered.”

“I am ready to give you an equivalent.”

“Of what nature?”

“I am willing to be silent.”

“And how can your silence benefit me?”

“That you will be best able to estimate.”

“Explain yourself, and bear in mind that I can bestow little time on you.”

“I can do that in a few words.  You employed me to kidnap a child.  I believe the law has something to say about that.  At any rate, the child’s mother may have.”