“Excuse me, Bill, but you don’t look it.”
“I can when it’s necessary.”
After a little more conversation Barclay, who was already half convinced, yielded to the temptation, and agreed to accompany his friend to the secret office of the counterfeiters, and enroll himself as one of their agents. Slocum offered to conduct him within at once.
The interview proved a satisfactory one, and Barclay was readily accepted, being vouched for by his friend and companion. It may be said also that his appearance was in his favor, though it would hardly have recommended him for any honest business.
When Barclay came out of the office, and again found himself on Broadway, his spirits were perceptibly raised. He was no longer impecunious, but carried with him fifty dollars in counterfeit bills.
“Well, good by, Jim,” said Slocum. “It is best for us to part, and not work near each other. Then again, it is best not to recognize each other when we meet, so that if one gets into a scrape the other need not be molested.”
“All right, Slocum. Success to you!”
James Barclay walked up Broadway, when all at once he uttered a half exclamation indicative of astonishment.
He was nearly face to face with a telegraph boy, in whom he recognized the resolute lad who had foiled him in his attempt at burglary. But this was not all. On the boy’s cap he recognized, with amazement, the distinctive inscription: