“And I need it to buy some supper for myself!” returned her husband, roughly. “There’s plenty more money where that came from.” “Oh, James! how can you be so hard and selfish!” “Hard and selfish, just because I don’t want to starve. I s’pose you’d be glad to read my obituary in the paper some fine morning, Mrs. Barclay, eh?” “Shure she wouldn’t read much good of you, I’m thinkin’,” said Mrs. Hogan. “Don’t be hard on me, Mrs. Hogan. Remember I’ve promised to marry you, if Ellen, here, ever gives me the chance.” “Shure thin I hope she’ll live forever. She’s welcome to you, though I wish she had a better husband, as she well desarves, poor dear!” “I’ll come around again tonight,” was James Barclay’s parting assurance. “Don’t you come if you’ve got any other business to attind to! We can spare you.” But James Barclay did come, and was fortunate enough to find Paul at home. There his good fortune ended, however. Paul positively denied having any money belonging to old Jerry, and as positively refused to advance James any money of his own. “Do you expect me to believe that story, Number 91?” demanded the visitor with lowering look. “I don’t care whether you believe it or not, but it’s true all the same.” James Barclay was silent for a moment, and then, considerably to Paul’s surprise, went out without further disturbance. The fact was that a new scheme had occurred to him. He was thoroughly convinced that Paul had his father’s property in his possession. If he could get the telegraph boy into his power--kidnap him, in fact--he would be able to extort from him the money, or learn where it lay concealed. “Good evening!” he said; “we shall meet again!” But James Barclay’s plans were frustrated in a tragic way. On leaving the house he met an old acquaintance who proposed to him to join forces in a burglary that evening. Barclay was at the end of his resources and readily agreed. He had so often got off scot free that he was disposed to underestimate the danger incurred. It was destined to be the last crime in which he was to take part. He was surprised at his work by a private watchman, and fatally shot dying almost instantly. When Paul read in the morning papers the account of Barclay’s tragic end he was shocked, though he could not mourn for one whose life had been a curse to himself and all connected with him. To old Jerry his son’s death was a positive relief, as may readily be imagined. CHAPTER XXXVIII. CONCLUSION. Three months passed, during which Paul faithfully attended to his duties as a telegraph boy. He was held in high consideration by the superintendent, who was very naturally influenced by the fact that Paul had made so many influential friends. But the time was coming when he would no longer be Number 91.