‘So,’ said he, after indulging in one of the last mentioned performances with so much energy as to arouse him from his abstraction, at the same time nodding his head at Rust’s office, ‘his cake being dough, our bargain’s up; and here am I, Edward Kornicker, Esquire, attorney and counsellor at law, a man of profound experience, severe knowledge of the world, of great capacity in various ways, though of small means—I think I may say of d——d small means—once more in the market; for sale to the highest bidder. Such a valuable commodity is not met with every day. If any gentleman,’ continued he, raising his hand and looking round at an imaginary audience, ‘is extremely desirous of securing the eminent talents of one of the most prominent young men of the day—not exactly new,’ added he, running his eye over his rusty coat, ‘but wonderfully serviceable; no cracks, nor flaws, no pieces broken off—here is an opportunity which will not occur again. This is only a scratch on the surface,’ said he, as he thrust his finger into a small hole in his coat-sleeve; ‘the article itself is warranted to be perfectly sound, and of the best quality. How much is bid?—how much for the promising young man aforesaid? How much? One thousand dollars? Five hundred? Two fifty?—one?—fifty? It wont do,’ said he, in a melancholy tone; ‘strike him down to me. The gentleman’s bought himself in; there being no demand for the article in this market, he thinks of disposing of himself to some respectable widow lady with a small family and a large purse. He may alter his mind, but that’s his present intention.’
Here Mr. Kornicker concluded his rather extraordinary soliloquy by plunging his hands in his pockets, and dropping into a subdued whistle; in the course of which his thoughts seemed to have taken altogether a different channel; for it was not long before he said, as if in continuance of some unuttered train of thought:
‘Well, old fellow, I promised you to look after your girl, although you didn’t seem much struck with the offer. But I’ll stick to my promise; although, to tell the truth, I don’t exactly know how to commence. But nothing will be done by sitting on this bundle. So I’ll to my work at once.’
He rose up hastily, and was descending the stairs when he abruptly turned back, went up to his luggage, and after eyeing it for a minute, said:
‘It’s a hazardous business to leave you here. You can’t be distrained on, nor levied on, because you’re exempt by law. So you are safe from landlords and creditors; the law makes you exempt from being stolen too; but thieves consider themselves like members of parliament, out of the reach of law. There’s the rub. You might be stolen; and I very much regret to say, that the gentleman who should lay violent hands on you would walk off with all my goods, chattels, lands, tenements, and hereditaments; but I’ve no where to take you, and as I expect to sleep in this entry, you must take your chance. So, good bye, old acquaintance, in case you and I should never meet again.’
Having in a very grave manner shaken one corner of the counterpane, as if it were the hand of an old friend, he gave his head a sudden jerk, to settle his hat in the right place, and descended the stairs.
The task which Kornicker had imposed upon himself was by no means easy; but firm in his purpose of fulfilling his promise, he shut his eyes to all difficulties, and commenced his pursuit.
The first place to which he went was the prison, for he hoped that the keeper of it might know something about her, or that she might have left her address there, in case her father wished to see her when he was imprisoned. But he was disappointed. They could tell him nothing, except that Rust neither asked for her, nor mentioned her, and had always refused to see her. She had never succeeded in gaining admittance to him, except on the night of his death, when the jailer, a fellow unfit for his office, for he had some human feeling left, unable to resist her tears and entreaties, had let her in unannounced, as mentioned in the last chapter. She had left the cell abruptly, had hurried off, and had never returned. ‘God help the poor child!’ exclaimed the man, as he told the story. ‘Such hearts as hers were made for heaven, not for this world. I have a daughter of her age; and even if she had robbed a church, I couldn’t have treated her as that man treated his child.’
The man looked at Kornicker, as if to observe the effect of his last remark; but probably that gentleman viewed the robbing of a church in a less heinous light than the jailer, for he made no comment on it, but after a pause said:
‘So that’s all you know?’