James Barclay presented himself the next day, true to his notice, and
demanded ten dollars. Paul was not at home, and the only persons to
whom he could appeal were his father, his wife, and Mrs. Hogan.
“I haven’t any money, James,” answered Mrs. Barclay, “except seventy
five cents, and that I must spend for medicines for your father, and
something for his supper.”
“Where did that money come from?” inquired Barclay.
“From Paul.”
“Number 91?”
“Yes.”
“Just as I thought! He’s got my father’s money, and doles it out to you
a little at a time.”
“He says it is his own money.”
“That’s a likely story. When could a common telegraph boy get so much
money?”
“He isn’t a common telegraph boy! He is a very smart boy.”
“An uncommon telegraph boy, then, if you prefer it. By Jove! I think
he is that myself. It isn’t every boy of his age who could so pull the
wool over an old man’s eyes as he has.”
“He is a very good boy!” said Mrs. Barclay, who had learned to
appreciate Paul, though she was at first inclined to do him injustice.
“So he is--of the kind!” retorted her husband. “If you were not blind
you would see that he has got hold of my father’s property, and means
to keep the lion’s share of it for himself. When will he be home?”
“Not till six o’clock.”
“And it’s only three. I don’t think I can wait.”
It was fortunate that he did not see the look of satisfaction upon his
wife’s face. It would have incensed him, for his temper, as the reader
has had occasion to learn, was not of the best.
“Look here!” he said, after a moment’s reflection, “give me the seventy
five cents. I’ll make it do till I get a chance to see this telegraph
boy.”
“But, James, I really can’t spare it. I need it to buy some supper and
medicines for your father.”
“And I need it to buy some supper for myself!” returned her husband,
roughly. “There’s plenty more money where that came from.”
“Oh, James! how can you be so hard and selfish!”
“Hard and selfish, just because I don’t want to starve. I s’pose you’d
be glad to read my obituary in the paper some fine morning, Mrs.
Barclay, eh?”
“Shure she wouldn’t read much good of you, I’m thinkin’,” said Mrs.
Hogan.
“Don’t be hard on me, Mrs. Hogan. Remember I’ve promised to marry you,
if Ellen, here, ever gives me the chance.”
“Shure thin I hope she’ll live forever. She’s welcome to you, though I
wish she had a better husband, as she well desarves, poor dear!”
“I’ll come around again tonight,” was James Barclay’s parting assurance.
“Don’t you come if you’ve got any other business to attind to! We can
spare you.”
But James Barclay did come, and was fortunate enough to find Paul at
home. There his good fortune ended, however. Paul positively denied
having any money belonging to old Jerry, and as positively refused to
advance James any money of his own.
“Do you expect me to believe that story, Number 91?” demanded the
visitor with lowering look.
“I don’t care whether you believe it or not, but it’s true all the
same.”
James Barclay was silent for a moment, and then, considerably to Paul’s
surprise, went out without further disturbance. The fact was that a new
scheme had occurred to him. He was thoroughly convinced that Paul had
his father’s property in his possession. If he could get the telegraph
boy into his power--kidnap him, in fact--he would be able to extort
from him the money, or learn where it lay concealed.
“Good evening!” he said; “we shall meet again!”
But James Barclay’s plans were frustrated in a tragic way. On leaving
the house he met an old acquaintance who proposed to him to join forces
in a burglary that evening. Barclay was at the end of his resources and
readily agreed. He had so often got off scot free that he was disposed
to underestimate the danger incurred. It was destined to be the last
crime in which he was to take part. He was surprised at his work by a
private watchman, and fatally shot dying almost instantly.
When Paul read in the morning papers the account of Barclay’s tragic
end he was shocked, though he could not mourn for one whose life had
been a curse to himself and all connected with him. To old Jerry his
son’s death was a positive relief, as may readily be imagined.