James Barclay left the park in a state of high satisfaction. It was important to his schemes to find his father, and now there seemed to be no further difficulty in the way. Then, too, he rather plumed himself on his success as a detective. Old Jerry, prompted probably by Paul, had removed his residence with the object of avoiding him and putting him off the track. But it had all proved useless. Thanks, as he assured himself, to his remarkable sharpness, he had foiled the old man and found out what he had attempted to conceal. “How glum he will look when he sees me coming into his room!” he chuckled to himself. “It’ll be worth five dollars to see his scared face. Serves him right, too, for tryin’ to deceive his own flesh and blood.” It was no little additional satisfaction that Paul, too, against whom he had a grudge for his interference with his attempt at burglary, would be disappointed and discomfited. Should he go at once to call on his father? By the City Hall clock it lacked a quarter of ten. There was no hurry, for he had his address, and could find him any time. He wanted to make another call first, and decided to do so. What this call was, is not essential to my story. It is sufficient to say that it occupied him two hours, and that it was a little past twelve when he reached the new residence of his father in Ludlow Street. There was a woman standing at the door. “Is there an old man and a telegraph boy living here?” asked Barclay. “Yes,” answered the woman. “Head of the stairs on the third floor.” “Thank you, ma’am. I’m much obliged.” James Barclay ascended the stairs, smiling to himself all the way. CHAPTER XIX. OLD JERRY RECEIVES A VISIT. Though old Jerry was more sensible than some misers in resisting the temptation of keeping all his money at home, where he might feast his eyes in the contemplation of it, he had a little hoard of gold pieces which he secreted in his room, and which from time to time he took out and counted with gloating eyes. This very day he had taken them from their place of concealment, and, spreading them on the bed, was counting them over with trembling fingers when his son quietly opened the door, and entered the room. The old man looked around, pale and alarmed, and clutched at the gold in the hope of hiding it before the intruder, whoever it might be, could catch a glimpse of it. But he was nervous, and had only thrust a part of the gold hurriedly into his pocket when James entered. Over the old man’s face there crept an expression of dire dismay. There was no one in the world whom he less wished to see than his son. The latter’s keen glance detected his father’s employment, and did not fail to observe the half dozen gold pieces still remaining on the bed spread, though old Jerry, as quickly as possible, gathered them up, and thrust them into his pocket. “Good morning, dad!” said James, in a jocular tone. “I am afraid you are not glad to see me.”