"I'll trate her like my own child," said Mrs. Donovan.
Had Hartley been a devoted father, this assurance from the coarse, red-faced woman would have been satisfactory, but he cared only for the child as a means of replenishing his pockets, and gave himself no trouble.
The hackman was still waiting at the door.
"It's a queer place to leave a child," thought he, as his experienced eye took in the features of the place. "It appears to be a liquor saloon. The gentleman can't be very particular. However, it is none of my business. I suppose it is all right."
"Driver, I am ready," said Hartley. "I'll go back with you."
"All right, sir."
"Go over Fulton Ferry, and leave me at your stand in Union Square."
The ride was a long one. Hartley threw himself back on the seat, and gave himself up to pleasant self-congratulation.
"I think this will bring Harriet Vernon to terms," he said. "She will find that she can't stand between me and my child. If she will make it worth my while, she shall have the child back, but I propose to see that my interests are secured."