Louise Calhoun was in the front parlor, and when Miss Field returned to her, she expressed surprise at the young lady’s long absence.
“One of the servants wished to see me,” was Mignon’s ready excuse.
Then, taking up the conversation where they had left off, she said:
“You think that if a larger amount of money was offered, my father would be returned? We have already offered a reward of ten thousand dollars, you know.”
“If he has been kidnaped, as the police think,” said Louise, “you may depend upon it that the villains who have him will ask more than that. How the poor dear gentleman must have suffered!”
The brazen creature applied a small handkerchief to her eyes and pretended to weep, while between her bogus sobs she whispered, loud enough for her companion to hear, however:
“Night after night I lie awake crying; oh, I hope they have not killed him.”
Pretty Mignon Field mingled her tears with the base counterfeits of her visitor.
After Louise had gone through her comedy part and the young girl had dried her eyes, the latter said: “How large a reward should I offer?”
“I would not publish a reward,” was the advice of the other.