I went down to the office and wrote a cablegram to Norris, in which I said that we were going over to see the country and would call on him within ten days.
To pay the charges I took out my pocket-book. There was no money in it. What had happened to me? There had been two one-hundred-dollar bills in the book when I had paid for last evening's dinner; now it held nothing but a slip of paper neatly folded. I opened it and read these words written with a pencil:
Thanks. This is the last call. M.
Then I remembered that yesterday's trousers had been hanging in the bath-room with my money in the right-hand pocket when Muggs was there. I had got the book and taken it with me when I went for a walk.
“He may be a busted philanthropist, but he's not a busted thief,” I mused.
V.—IN WHICH WE HAVE AN AMUSING VOYAGE
BETSEY had been a bit disturbed by the swiftness of my plans. On her arrival in town she said to me:
“Look here, Socrates Potter, I'm no longer a colt, and you'll have to drive slower. What are you up to, anyway?”