Jerry uttered a shrill cry, and tried to make a feeble opposition, but he was like a child in the hands of the burly ruffian. “Stop your whimpering!” said James, fiercely. “That gold I mean to have, and you’d best give it up.” Jerry again uttered a cry, which was heard by Mrs. Hogan, an opposite neighbor, who, opening the door, saw, unnoticed by either, the uneven struggle between Jerry and his assailant. Mrs. Hogan was a brave woman. She dashed back into her own room, and returned in an instant with a dipper of hot water. Armed with this she was prepared for hostilities. “Let the old man alone, you thafe of the worruld!” she exclaimed, indignantly. James Barclay turned, and, seeing that it was a woman, replied scornfully, “Get out of here, woman, or it’ll be the worse for you!” CHAPTER XX. JAMES BARCLAY COMES TO GRIEF. “Get out yourself!” retorted Mrs. Hogan, as with undaunted mien she faced the ruffian. “What are you doin’ to old Jerry?” “Mind your business, woman, and leave the room, if you don’t want to get hurt!” James Barclay still retained his grip upon the old man as he spoke. He was as bold as his father was timid, and did not mean to be frightened away by a woman. “I’m no more a woman than yourself,” said Mrs. Hogan, angrily, who preferred to be addressed as a lady. “Well, you’re dressed like one, any way,” rejoined Barclay, with a smile of amusement. “My father and I have a little business together, and you’re not wanted.” “Is he your son, Jerry?” asked Mrs. Hogan, not certain whether the statement was true. “Yes,” answered Jerry, feebly, “but he wants to rob me. Take him away, Mrs. Hogan.” “Ain’t you ashamed of yourself to trate your old father so manely?” demanded Mrs. Hogan, indignantly. “Give me the money, father, and I’ll go,” said Barclay, thinking it politic to get away as soon as possible. “Take him away!” said old Jerry, feebly. “I’ll do it!” responded Mrs. Hogan. “I’ll tache him, the murtherin’ thafe!” She suited the action to the word, and dashed the scalding hot water into the face of James Barclay. He uttered a hoarse cry of mingled rage and pain, and, leaving his father, dashed after his bold assailant. He was partially blinded, however, by the pain, and she easily escaped. Scarcely knowing where he went, he ran against an athletic, broad shouldered man, who was bringing up a basket of coal. “O, that’s your game, is it?” said the newcomer, fancying the assault intentional. “I don’t know who you are, but I’ll give ye all ye want. No man can hit Dennis O’Brien widout gettin’ as good as he gives.” In a trice the two men were grappling, and, losing their balance, tumbled down the stairs, receiving some hard knocks on the way. The result was that both were arrested by a passing policeman, and locked up. James Barclay, whose burns were severe, was sent to the hospital on the Island, and it was thirty days before he was free to pursue his plans again.