Jack, too, felt more disappointed than he was willing to acknowledge. He could not conjecture who this gentleman could be who had carried away Ida. The affair seemed darker and more complicated than ever.
CHAPTER XXV. IDA IS FOUND.
IDA was sitting alone in the dreary apartment which she was now obliged to call home. Peg had gone out, and not feeling quite certain of her prey, had bolted the door on the outside. She had left some work for the child,—some handkerchiefs to hem for Dick,—with strict orders to keep steadily at work.
While seated at work, she was aroused from thoughts of home by a knock at the door.
“Who's there?” asked Ida.
“A friend,” was the reply.
“Mrs. Hardwick—Peg isn't at home,” returned Ida. “I don't know when she will be back.”
“Then I will come in and wait till she comes back,” said the voice outside.
“I can't open the door,” said Ida. “It's fastened on the outside.”