It may be mentioned that, apart from his personal apprehension, Julius was anxious about his money. He had in a wallet six hundred dollars belonging to Mr. Taylor, which he had collected in various places. He was ambitious to justify his benefactor’s confidence, and carry it to him in safety; but Marlowe threatened to take both the money and his life. He was only a boy, but emergencies make men out of boys. He had been provided by Mr. Taylor with a revolver, not with any supposition that he would need it, but as a safeguard in case robbery should be attempted on the road. He had forgotten to put it under his pillow, but it was in the pocket of his coat, and that coat was hanging over a chair on the opposite side of the bed from that on which Marlowe was standing. He could only obtain possession of it by stratagem.
“Give me your money,” said Marlowe, fiercely.
“Then spare my life,” said Julius, assuming a tone of entreaty.
“I cannot promise,” said Marlowe; “but I will assuredly kill you at once unless you give me the money.”
“Then wait till I get it for you,” said Julius.{214}
He jumped out of bed, Marlowe suspecting nothing, and put his hand in the pocket of his coat. He drew out, not a pocketbook, but the revolver, which he deliberately pointed at Marlowe.
“Dan Marlowe,” he said, quietly, “you are stronger than I, but this pistol is loaded, and I know how to use it. Come toward me, and I fire.”
“Confusion!” exclaimed the burglar, furiously, and his impulse was to spring upon Julius. But there was something in the boy’s resolute tone which made him pause.
“He wouldn’t be so cool if it wasn’t loaded,” he thought.
A doubt in the mind of Julius was solved. Marlowe had no pistol, or he would have produced it. Disagreeable as it was, the burglar stopped to parley. He could postpone his revenge, and only exact money now.