CHAPTER XI

PLOTTERS

"The wicked plotteth against the just."--Ps. xxxvii, 12

It was just before noon when Peter Grimes placed Cynthy aboard the train which was to carry her north to her parents and safety. Peter performed the duty because there was no way of avoiding it without danger to himself. The letter which had come to him from Cynthy's father had contained not only her railroad fare but an extra amount to pay for the care of the baby, for whom no arrangements had been made at the time the parents, in dire poverty and uncertain as to the outcome of their venture into an unknown locality, had decided to leave with his sister.

Now, the father had written, most laboriously, to thank Peter for his kindness and to repay him for the extra expense incurred. Both children, the letter stated, were to be sent in the care of the conductor of the train designated. The conductor had even been notified when to expect them.

The length of time Peter had been accepting the remittances sent with such regularity by Cynthy's father made it necessary for him to surrender the little girl when requested. As for the baby, nobody knew when it died; never would know. The parents were too far away to ask questions. They couldn't do anything, anyway.

Peter's conscience did not trouble him as he pocketed the money they had sent. He had no conscience.

A dumb animal, when it hears a cry of distress from another of its kind will manifest alarm, anxiety and a desire to help the afflicted one. Peter Grimes was lower than the animals. Totally devoid of moral sense, his callousness to suffering had developed within him all the characteristics of a fiend. The first money ever handed him in an envelope without any effort on his part to earn it had been the final undoing of an already unbalanced and distorted mind.

The thought of procuring more and more money in the same manner became an obsession. It was the object of his life. His pastime and recreation was the infliction of pain. It thrilled him to witness suffering in any form. The more he witnessed the more insatiable he grew. He found satisfaction in seeing anything helpless succumb to his mighty power. It gratified his pride.

Covertly he shook his fist after the receding train. He would have enjoyed seeing it blown to bits or flung over an embankment. That train was bearing from him the human equivalent of money. Peter would miss those regular remittances.

Climbing once more into his old buggy, he turned the horse's head in the direction of the post office. He had placed an advertisement in three newspapers published in three different towns. Someone may have written regarding the placement of a child on his farm. That would fill the vacancy just caused by the withdrawal of Cynthy. The thought afforded Peter pleasurable anticipation. It was followed by another that caused a horrid, sinister smile to twist his crooked face in a grimace so malignant that anyone observing it would have fled from his presence.

"Thet thar least un's Maw--ef ther hain't no money cum from her ter-day, I know whut I'm a-goin' ter do. I cain't afford ter keep hit a-squallin' aroun' an' Mollie a-spendin' all her time a-keerin' fur hit. Ther hain't nawthin' ter be made harborin' them kind o' young-uns. A woman 'thout a man allus gits tared payin' money fer her young-un an' clars out. I reckon thet's whut she's done. Ef she thinks I'm a-goin' ter keep th' brat she's p'int-blank wrong."

But the baby's mother was not so unnatural as Peter supposed. There was a letter from her among the mail awaiting Peter at the post office. The letter was a mere scrawl, on very soiled paper, and with it were several one dollar bills, also much soiled and crumpled. Peter recognized the handwriting before he opened the envelope. The same handwriting appeared on a small package that was also handed to Peter. It was marked:

"Fragile--Handle with Care."

He thrust the package into his pocket. "Another fool toy!" he muttered under his breath. "Thet woman's a plumb idjit."

Before he had time to read the letter or to continue examining his mail he heard himself addressed. Thrusting the envelope with the soiled dollar bills into his pocket with the package and other letters, Peter turned to face the speaker.

The latter was a man of about thirty-five years. He was somewhat stocky in build, well dressed, and had sharp, restless eyes that seemed to be ever on the alert as if he were expecting someone, watching for someone or was apprehensive of surveillance. At first glance he might have been described as rather prepossessing, but when he smiled, the manner in which his upper lip curled back from his teeth and drew up under his short, dark mustache made one feel that it boded ill for the person who thwarted his will or incurred his enmity.

Peter stared for a moment before he recognized the man. The stranger's lip curled in a smile. Peter knew him then. But no answering smile twisted his face. Plainly he was not pleased by the encounter.

"Howdy!" he ejaculated in a tone that would have discouraged anyone not having a special object in accosting him.

Again the stranger smiled. He seemed to enjoy Peter's discomfiture. "Don't get alarmed," he remarked cheerfully. "I didn't come to take the girl away. You received that last money I sent, didn't you?"

Peter became more cheerful. Instantly his face darkened.

"I got hit," he replied, "but hit'll hafter be more nex' time. Yo' must ha' ben mighty unthoughted not ter conceit a big gal like she is now costs more ter feed an' clothe than a leetle, mosquito-like thing she war when yo' brung her ter me five year back."

"Oh, come now," returned the other, speaking in a low voice and drawing Peter to one side. "I'm paying you plenty and you know it. I gave you too much in the first place, that's all. But a bargain's a bargain and I'll stand by it. And I'm going to see that you do, too. Get me?"

Evidently Peter did, for he made no reply. He merely stood with his head slightly drooped, like a dog that has received a lash, waiting for what was to follow. He had not long to wait.

"I just got into town this morning," the man continued. "I was planning to take a run out to your place. Luckily, I saw you drive by the hotel. I thought you'd probably stop here at the post office, so I hurried right down."

He paused. Peter waited, then edged toward the door. "Waal, I reckon I'd better be gittin' on," he drawled.

The other stayed his departure. "Wait a minute," he said. "I want to talk with you. I've got a proposition I think you'll be interested in. You'd better put your horse up somewhere and come over to the hotel--say in about half an hour. I've got a man out now getting some information. He'll be back by that time and I'll be ready to discuss the matter."

Peter twisted and writhed as he peered furtively at the speaker before replying.

"Ther hain't no call fer me ter go ter no hotel es fur es I kin see," he remarked. "Jes' whut mought yo' be aimin' ter talk ter me erbout?"

Again the man's lip curled back, his mustache drooped down and he spoke through his white teeth much as a dog would emit a low, threatening snarl.

"I thought you might like to make a little easy money. Of course if you don't, I can take the girl--Mollie--off your hands as well now as any time."

The threat was not lost on Peter. He did not want to surrender Mollie. She was his main source of income. It had been bad enough to lose Cynthy. But the amount he received for Mollie was far beyond the small sum Cynthy's father had been wont to remit. And this man now talking to him about a proposition to make easy money was Bailey, the stranger he had met at the crossroads five years previous and with whom he had made a contract that had brought him more easy money than he had ever dreamed of.

Peter thrust his tongue in his cheek and revolved the tobacco in his mouth while his slow-moving wits considered the ultimatum that had just been issued.

"All right," he said, at length. "I got a little business ter look arter et Smith's Golden Rule an' then I'll come right over. Whar'll I find yo'?"

Bailey told him the location of his room. "You needn't say anything to anyone at the hotel," he remarked in a casual manner. "Just come right up to the room."

Peter grunted scornfully. "Huh! Yo' don't need ter be afeared o' my sayin' nawthin' ter nobody."

"I believe you," returned Bailey as they separated.

Half an hour later, in a room of the Mansion House, Grimes, Bailey and a third man, that Bailey introduced at Mr. Swazey, sat down together to discuss the proposition dealing with easy money.

Mr. Swazey was not one who, from his appearance, would ever be judged to have had much money, easy or otherwise. He had a belligerent face, red hair, freckles, and pale blue eyes that were as hard and cold as steel. He wore a cheap suit of plaid material, a dazzling stick pin and a pair of sneakers.

"It's like this, Mr. Grimes," said Bailey, after making sure there was no possibility of their conversation being overheard. "Mr. Swazey, here, is going to assist me in a little undertaking of a purely business nature. We need a man of your judgement,--one who knows how to keep his mouth shut--to go in with us on the deal. If it goes through successfully, as it ought to if you do your part, there's a thousand dollars in it for you, cold cash."

He paused to let the statement sink in. There was no doubt, however, of Peter's comprehension. His jaw fell, his mouth opened and his small, venomous eyes gleamed with avarice.

A thousand dollars! He had never seen so much money. His hands closed and unclosed convulsively as if he already felt it in his grasp. Keep his mouth shut? Go in on the deal? Ha! There was nothing he would not do to possess a thousand dollars. If they thought he was liable to refuse they were crazy. He closed his mouth and licked his lips in a fever of expectation. So deeply was he revolving the matter in his mind that he forgot to speak. Bailey roused him.

"Well, what do you say?"

"Shore."

"You'll do it?"

"Shore."

"All right, it's a bargain. Mr. Swazey, here, is a witness. And if there's any backing out or double-crossing or any leak--"

Bailey paused and displayed his teeth while his lip curled back and his mustache drooped down and the impression was given that in any of the eventualities mentioned, serious and probably fatal results would be experienced by Mr. Peter Grimes.

"Thar won't be none," that gentleman declared, greedily. "Whut I wanter know is, when do I git the thousand dollars!"

"When we get the pile we're after," Bailey replied, "and here's cash money in advance for the care of the child." He counted out some bills which Grimes accepted eagerly. "As I said, it's an undertaking," Bailey went on. "We hope it will be successful. We expect it to be successful. If it fails we all stand to lose. If it goes through, we all win. Do you know what a ransom is, Mr. Grimes?"

Peter thought he did, but Bailey enlightened him further.

"Now, the whole thing hinges on whether or not our man will come across with the money after he finds his child has disappeared," Bailey said when he had finished. "If he refuses--if he sets the police after us--all we have to do is put the kid where it will never be found, dead or alive. That'll be up to you, Grimes. What we want you to do is hold the youngster until the father agrees to pay; then we'll come and fetch her and give her to him in exchange for the ransom money. We'll take you with us, so you can see the deal finished and you'll get your thousand dollars then and there."

Grimes had been following every word with the utmost attention. He now looked apprehensively over his shoulder as if he thought someone might be standing behind him, then leaned forward and said:

"An' ef he doesn't pay--" He paused questioningly.

Again Bailey's lip curled back from his teeth and his mustache drooped as he looked straight into the gleaming eyes of the supposed hog-farmer.

"I think you'll know what to do--won't you?"

Grimes' face twisted to one side and his fingers moved as if clutching something by the throat. "Shore," he replied. "An' I'll do hit. Arything 'at stands atween me an' one thousand dollars hain't a-goin' ter stand thar long."

"I guess we understand each other," said Bailey. "Now we'll get down to business. When do you think we can do the job, Swazey?"