Adventures of a Telegraph Boy or 'Number 91'

“Have I? Well, I reckon I have.”

“How much?”

“I’ve passed a ten and a five.”

“And that gives you seven and a half for your share?”

“Right you are, Barclay. Your knowledge of arithmetic does credit to your education. It’s plain your respected parent took great pains with your trainin’.”

“My respected parent,” repeated Barclay, frowning, “is about the meanest old skinflint you’ll find within a hundred miles. I found him out yesterday, and let him know that I was going to call again today, to raise a loan, but when I called the old fox was gone bag and baggage.”

“A shabby way to treat his offspring. I pity you, Jim. So you are left to the tender mercies of the world.”

“I don’t find ’em very tender,” growled Barclay. “Do you see that?” and he drew from his pocket about forty cents in change.

“Yes, but it doesn’t dazzle me.”

“It’s all the money I have in the world.”

“Then you’d better join me.”

Barclay hesitated.

“I don’t quite like it. I don’t care about going up the river again too soon.”

“You needn’t, if you are careful. I’ll give you a few points. If one of your bills is found out, you are at once searched to see if you have any more.”

“There’s the danger.”

“So there is, but you can guard against it. When I am preparing to offer a bill, I put a number of good bills in my vest pocket, where they will be certain to be found at once. The other counterfeits I put in a secret inside pocket where they are not likely to be discovered. Then when it is found that all the other bills are good, I say that some rascal must have passed the bad bill on me, taking advantage of my innocence and ignorance of the world.”

This seemed to Barclay an excellent joke, and he laughed long and loud.

“Excuse me, Bill, but you don’t look it.”

“I can when it’s necessary.”

After a little more conversation Barclay, who was already half convinced, yielded to the temptation, and agreed to accompany his friend to the secret office of the counterfeiters, and enroll himself as one of their agents. Slocum offered to conduct him within at once.

The interview proved a satisfactory one, and Barclay was readily accepted, being vouched for by his friend and companion. It may be said also that his appearance was in his favor, though it would hardly have recommended him for any honest business.

When Barclay came out of the office, and again found himself on Broadway, his spirits were perceptibly raised. He was no longer impecunious, but carried with him fifty dollars in counterfeit bills.

“Well, good by, Jim,” said Slocum. “It is best for us to part, and not work near each other. Then again, it is best not to recognize each other when we meet, so that if one gets into a scrape the other need not be molested.”

“All right, Slocum. Success to you!”

James Barclay walked up Broadway, when all at once he uttered a half exclamation indicative of astonishment.

He was nearly face to face with a telegraph boy, in whom he recognized the resolute lad who had foiled him in his attempt at burglary. But this was not all. On the boy’s cap he recognized, with amazement, the distinctive inscription:

A. D. T

91

CHAPTER XVI

AN UNEXPECTED MEETING

“Number 91!” ejaculated James Barclay in surprise.

The surprise was reflected on Paul’s face when on looking up he recognized James Barclay.

“I think we have met before,” said the burglar, grimly.

“Yes,” answered Paul, smiling.

“You are the boy that lives with my father?”

“Yes, if you are the son of Jerry Barclay,” Paul admitted, seeing that denial was useless.

“It’s queer how things come about,” said Barclay, reflectively.

“I think you will have to excuse me,” said Paul, “for I am sent on an errand, and it won’t do for me to stop.”

“Where are you bound?”

“To the Astor House.”

“Are you going to walk?”

“Yes.”

“Then I will go with you, if you don’t mind.”

Paul was by no means desirous of Barclay’s company, but there seemed no way to shake him off. The street was free to all.

“You can come with me if you like,” he said.

“Then I’ll go. I’ve got something to say to you. But first I’ll say that I don’t bear any ill will against you for what you did the other night. You only did your duty.”

“That’s true. I’m glad you look upon it in that light.”

“I admire your pluck, blest if I don’t. All the same I was disappointed.”

“Don’t you think it would be better to go into some other line of business, Mr. Barclay?”

“Yes, I do, but that was all that was open to me at that time. Now, I’ve got into something different.”