“I won’t. I want to see him expose his plans.” Five minutes afterwards Louis Wheeler entered the hotel.
“I’ve got the tickets,” he said, “but I had to buy them of a speculator, and they cost me more than I expected.”
“How much?”
“Two and a half apiece. So there is no change coming back to you.”
“Never mind! As long as you had enough money to pay for them it is all right.”
As a matter of fact Wheeler bought the tickets at the box office at one dollar and fifty cent each, which left him a profit of two dollars. When he saw how easily the Western man took it he regretted not having represented that the tickets cost three dollars each.
However, he decided that there would be other ways of plundering his new acquaintance. He took his seat again next to the miner.
“It is not very late,” he said. “Would you like a run out to Central Park or to Grant’s Tomb?”
“Not today. I feel rather tired. By the way, you did not mention your name.”
“I haven’t a card with me, but my name is Louis Wheeler.”