"I know one thing more—the residence of the child's mother. I hesitated this morning whether to come here, or to carry Ida to her mother, trusting to her to repay from gratitude what I demand from you because it is for your interest to comply with my request."
"You speak of carrying the child to her mother. How can you do that when she is in New York?"
"You are mistaken," said Peg, coolly. "She is in Philadelphia."
John Somerville paced the room with hurried steps. Peg felt that she had succeeded.
He paused after a while, and stood before her.
"You demand a thousand dollars," he said.
"I do."
"I have not that amount with me. I have recently lost a heavy sum, no matter how. But I can probably get it to-day. Call to-morrow at this time—no, in the afternoon, and I will see what I can do for you."
"Very well," said the woman, well satisfied.
Left to himself, John Somerville spent some time in reflection. Difficulties encompassed him—difficulties from which he found it hard to find a way of escape. He knew how difficult it would be to meet this woman's demand. Gradually his countenance lightened. He had decided what that something should be.