Luke was about to put his hand into his pocket for the money, when Coleman touching him on the arm, said: "Never mind, Luke, I have the money," and before our hero could expostulate he had thrust a dollar into the cab-driver's hand.
"All right, thanks," said the driver, and slammed to the door.
"You must let me repay you my part of the fare, Mr. Coleman," said Luke, again feeling for his pocketbook.
"Oh, it's a mere trifle!" said Coleman. "I'll let you pay next time, but don't be so ceremonious with a friend."
"But I would rather pay for myself," objected Luke.
"Oh, say no more about it, I beg. Claflin provides liberally for my expenses. It's all right."
"But I don't want Claflin to pay for me."
"Then I assure you I'll get it out of you before we part. Will that content you?"
Luke let the matter drop, but he didn't altogether like to find himself under obligations to a stranger, notwithstanding his assurance, which he took for a joke. He would have been surprised and startled if he had known how thoroughly Coleman meant what he said about getting even. The fifty cents he had with such apparent generosity paid out for Luke he meant to get back a hundred-fold. His object was to gain Luke's entire confidence, and remove any suspicion he might possibly entertain. In this respect he was successful. Luke had read about designing strangers, but he certainly could not suspect a man who insisted on paying his hack fare.
"I hope you will not be disappointed in the Ottawa House," observed Mr. Coleman, as they rattled through the paved streets. "It isn't a stylish hotel."