“Yes, I know, Jim,” she replied, seeing it was best to humour him, “and, of course, I would not tell for all the world. But, look here, Jim, couldn’t you manage to get the little chap back again? You cannot really want a little fellow like that. Why, what can he do for you?”
“We want him as a draw,” said Scrivener. “You let him alone; you won’t see him for the present.”
“Oh, Jim, I feel as if I’d go mad when I think of him. I don’t mind a bit about the jewels nor the silver, nor, for that matter, about Mr. Rowton, but I do care for that nice little fellow. Oh, there’s no knowing what harm he will come to—and it is my doing. I shall feel that it’s my doing to my dying day.”
“The kid will come to no harm, silly girl.”
“But where is he, Jim? You might tell me, seeing that you love me so much.”
Scrivener laughed.
“Not I,” he answered. “I do love you, and you’re an uncommon pretty girl, and I’ll make you a real affectionate sort of husband. You’ll be loving to me, and I’ll be loving to you, and we’ll be like a pair of turtle doves together. There, now you are looking at me in your old pretty way. Upon my word, I am all impatient for the ceremony to take place. You are not to know where the little chap is, Hester, but there, I’ll say something to comfort you. He is snug enough and will come to no harm. Long John has got him, and Long John ain’t to be gainsaid, not by any silly girl that ever breathed, so you stop whining in that way, and let us go to the real business which has brought me here.”
“Yes,” she said, controlling herself with a mighty effort.
Suddenly she raised her eyes, which were full of tears.
“I see you won’t tell, and I must be content,” she said. “Will you swear faithful, then, Jim, that if I do go on bearing this awful weight on my conscience, no real harm will happen to the child?”