“I am afraid he is a victim as well as you,” said the landlord. “He seemed surprised to hear that the professor had gone out.”
“It may all be put on. Perhaps he is in the plot, and is to meet the old fraud at some place fixed upon, and divide the booty,” suggested the agent.
“The boy looks honest,” said the landlord. “I like his appearance. We will see what he has to say.”
So when Philip had finished his breakfast he was summoned to the parlor, where he met the creditors of the combination.
“These gentlemen,” said the landlord, “have bills against you and the professor. It makes no difference whether they receive pay from you or him.”
Poor Philip’s heart sank within him.
“I was hoping Professor Riccabocca had settled your bills,” he said. “Please show them to me.”
This was done with alacrity.
Philip found that they owed five dollars for the hall, five dollars for advertising and printing, and one dollar for bill-posting—eleven dollars in all.
“Mr. Gates,” said our hero uneasily, to the landlord, “did Professor Riccabocca say anything about coming back when he went out this morning?”