“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!”