The Little Nugget | Page 8

laughed.
'Oh well,' she said, 'I only talked that mother's love stuff because you
looked the sort of girl who would like it. We can drop all that now, and
come down to business.'
'I don't understand you.'
'You will. I don't know if you think that I kidnapped Ogden from sheer
affection for Mrs Ford. I like Nesta, but not as much as that. No. I'm
one of the Get-Rich-Quick-Wallingfords, and I'm looking out for
myself all the time. There's no one else to do it for me. I've a beastly
home. My father's dead. My mother's a cat. So--'
'Please stop,' said Mrs Sheridan. I don't know why you are telling me
all this.'
'Yes, you do. I don't know what salary Mr Ford pays you, but I don't
suppose it's anything princely. Why don't you come over to us? Mrs
Ford would give you the earth if you smuggled Ogden back to her.'
'You seem to be trying to bribe me,' said Mrs Sheridan.
'In this case,' said Cynthia, 'appearances aren't deceptive. I am.'

'Good afternoon.'
'Don't be a little fool.'
The door slammed.
'Come back!' cried Cynthia. She took a step as if to follow, but gave up
the idea with a laugh. She sat down and began to read her illustrated
paper again. Presently the bedroom door opened. Mrs Ford came in.
She touched her eyes with a handkerchief as she entered. Cynthia
looked up.
'I'm very sorry, Nesta,' she said.
Mrs Ford went to the window and looked out.
'I'm not going to break down, if that's what you mean,' she said. 'I don't
care. And, anyhow, it shows that it can be done.'
Cynthia turned a page of her paper.
'I've just been trying my hand at bribery and corruption.'
'What do you mean?'
'Oh, I promised and vowed many things in your name to that secretary
person, the female one--not Mennick--if she would help us. Nothing
doing. I told her to let us have Ogden as soon as possible, C.O.D., and
she withered me with a glance and went.'
Mrs Ford shrugged her shoulders impatiently.
'Oh, let her go. I'm sick of amateurs.'
'Thank you, dear,' said Cynthia.
'Oh, I know you did your best. For an amateur you did wonderfully
well. But amateurs never really succeed. There were a dozen little easy
precautions which we neglected to take. What we want is a professional;
a man whose business is kidnapping; the sort of man who kidnaps as a
matter of course; someone like Smooth Sam Fisher.'
'My dear Nesta! Who? I don't think I know the gentleman.'
'He tried to kidnap Ogden in 1906, when we were in New York. At
least, the police put it down to him, though they could prove nothing.
Then there was a horrible man, the police said he was called Buck
MacGinnis. He tried in 1907. That was in Chicago.'
'Good gracious! Kidnapping Ogden seems to be as popular as football.
And I thought I was a pioneer!'
Something approaching pride came into Mrs Ford's voice.
'I don't suppose there's a child in America,' she said, 'who has had to be
so carefully guarded. Why, the kidnappers had a special name for

him--they called him "The Little Nugget". For years we never allowed
him out of our sight without a detective to watch him.'
'Well, Mr Ford seems to have changed all that now. I saw no detectives.
I suppose he thinks they aren't necessary in England. Or perhaps he
relied on Mr Broster. Poor Reggie!'
'It was criminally careless of him. This will be a lesson to him. He will
be more careful in future how he leaves Ogden at the mercy of anybody
who cares to come along and snap him up.'
'Which, incidentally, does not make your chance of getting him away
any lighter.'
'Oh, I've given up hope now,' said Mrs Ford resignedly.
'I haven't,' said Cynthia.
There was something in her voice which made her companion turn
sharply and look at her. Mrs Ford might affect to be resigned, but she
was a woman of determination, and if the recent reverse had left her
bruised, it had by no means crushed her.
'Cynthia! What do you mean? What are you hinting?'
'You despise amateurs, Nesta, but, for all that, it seems that your
professionals who kidnap as a matter of course and all the rest of it
have not been a bit more successful. It was not my want of experience
that made me fail. It was my sex. This is man's work. If I had been a
man, I should at least have had brute force to fall back upon when Mr
Mennick arrived.'
Mrs Ford nodded.
'Yes, but--'
'And,' continued Cynthia, 'as all these Smooth Sam Fishers of yours
have