“Perhaps not. At any rate, I don’t feel inclined to give you house-room any longer.”
Mr. Gunn slunk out of the room, under the impression that his company was no longer desired.
“Mr. Gray,” said the publisher, “I hope you don’t class me with the man who has just gone out. I would sooner never be paid than deprive you of your violin. Let the account stand, and if you are ever able to pay me half of my bill—your share—I shall be glad to receive it.”
“Thank you, sir!” said Philip, “You shall not repent your confidence in me.”
“I say ditto to my friend, the publisher,” said the bill-poster.
“Wait a moment, gentlemen,” said Philip. “There is a bare possibility that I can do something for you.”
For the first time since he left Norton he thought of the letter which he was not to open till he was fifty miles from Norton.
“Mr. Gates,” he said, “can you tell me how far Norton is from here?”
“About sixty miles,” answered the landlord in surprise.
“Then it’s all right.”