[CHAPTER XII.
JAMES BARCLAY’S DISAPPOINTMENT.]
Though he is a very unworthy specimen of humanity, the reader may feel interested to know something more about James Barclay, whose acquaintance we made while he was attempting to commit a burglary.
It was mere accident that made him acquainted with the fact that his father was living in New York. To him it seemed a most fortunate discovery. Knowing old Jerry’s miserly habits, he had no doubt that the old man was worth some thousands of dollars, and upon this sum he felt that he had a right to draw. His father was timid, and he depended upon terrifying him into complying with his demands.
The first visit terminated as well as he expected. He didn’t suppose that Jerry kept much money in his room. Hence his arrangement to come back the next day.
As he left the poor tenement house he chuckled to himself, “I’ll scare the old man into giving me all the money I want. It will be like drawing a tooth, and I’ve no doubt he’ll make a great fuss, but there’s no escape for him. He can live on little or nothing and enjoy it. It won’t do him any real harm to let me have, say half of his miserly hoard. Egad, James Barclay, you’re in luck at last. I thought when that telegraph kid foiled me last night that nothing would go well with me, but things seem turning. If I ever meet that boy again I must give him a lesson. He’s a bold young rascal, though, and would be a credit to my line of business.”
It is doubted whether Paul would have considered this a compliment if he had heard it. His ambitions did not run in the direction of becoming a successful burglar.
It was a question with James Barclay where to spend the intervening time, as he was not to call on his father till the next day. He was about at the end of his resources, having less than a dollar in silver in his possession. He might have tried to hatch up some dishonest scheme for filling his pockets but for the chance discovery of his father. That afforded a chance quite as promising, and far less perilous, and he decided not to make any illegal ventures till he had made all he could out of old Jerry.
“I’d rather be honest,” he said to himself in a glow of virtuous feeling; “but, confound it, a man must live, and as the world owes me a living, I must get it one way or another.”
It did not seem to occur to James Barclay that the same chance existed for him as for the majority of his fellow men—a chance of earning a living by honest work. Labor and industry he abhorred. They might do for others, but not for him.
“Tomorrow I’ll be in funds,” he said to himself complacently. “Now, what shall I do with myself today? A man can’t do much without money.”