“Yes, Mr. Scates.”
“You've hit it. Mr. Arthur Scates, or A. Scates for short. Now look at that Italian name again.”
“I am doing so, and it looks just as foreign as ever.”
“Agreed, but Catessa contains just the same letters as A. Scates, only they are arranged differently.”
After the second act, Quincy visited Mr. Scates in his dressing room. The tenor insisted on Quincy and his party taking supper with him at his hotel after the opera. He offered to repay the cost of his treatment with interest.
“No,” said Quincy, “I do not need it, and will not take it. Use it to help some poor artist.”
It was one o'clock when Quincy and his party reached their hotel.
“Did you enjoy yourself, Alice?”
“I had a delightful evening. But how happy you must feel to know that your money saved such a precious life.”
“I do,” said he. “Good deeds always bring their reward. See what I got—twenty-three years hard labour in an orange grove.”