After Jerry’s unwelcome visitor was well out of the way, Paul returned to the room. He found old Jerry trembling and very much distressed. The old man looked up with startled eyes when he opened the door. “Oh, it’s you, Paul,” he said, in a tone of relief. “Who did you think it was?” asked Paul, wishing to draw out the old man. “I--I have had a visit from a bad man, who wanted to rob me.” “Who was it?” “I’ll tell you, Paul, but it’s a secret, mind. It was my son.” “I didn’t know you had a son.” “Nor I. I thought he might be dead, for I have not seen him for twenty years. I am afraid he is very wicked.” “How did he find you out?” “I don’t know. He--he frightened me very much. He wanted me to give him money--and I so miserably poor.” Paul didn’t answer. “You know how poor I am, Paul,” continued the old man appealingly. “You always say so, Jerry.” The old man did not appear to notice that Paul had ceased to call him grandfather. “And it’s true--of course it’s true. But he wants me to pay him fifty dollars. He is coming back tomorrow.” “But he can’t get it if you haven’t it to give.” “I--I don’t know. He was always bad tempered--James was. I am afraid he might beat me.” “What! Beat his father!” exclaimed Paul, indignantly. “He might,” said the old man. “He wasn’t a good boy like you. He always gave me trouble.” “Are you really afraid he will come, grand--Jerry?” asked Paul, earnestly. “Yes, he is sure to come--he said so.” “Then I think we had better move to another place where he can’t find us.” “Yes--yes--let us go,” said the old man, hurriedly. “But, but,” he added, with a sudden thought, “we have paid the rent here to the end of the month. I can’t afford to lose that--I am so poor.” “It will only be a dollar and a half; I will pay it,” said Paul. “Then I think I shall go. When shall we leave, Paul?” “This evening, Jerry, if I can get the time. I may have to stay up town to guard a house where the gentleman is absent, but it isn’t certain. If I do, I will be here early in the morning, before I go to work.” This assurance seemed to abate the apprehensions of the old man, who, it was evident, stood in great fear of his son. Paul was obliged to take a hurried leave of him in order to have time for lunch before returning to the office. “Who would have dreamed,” he said to himself, “that the bold burglar whom I encountered last night, was the son of old Jerry? One is as timid as a mouse, the other seems like a daring criminal. I wonder why Jerry never told me that he had a son.” The discovery that Jerry had such a son made Paul still more unwilling to own a relationship to him. It was bad enough to pass for the grandson of a squalid miser, but it was worse to be thought the son or nephew of a burglar. The day passed quietly. Paul was not sent out much, on the supposition that he might have to pass another night at the house of Mr. Cunningham. About seven o’clock he rang the bell of the house in Fifty First Street.