“You must be crazy!” said Riccabocca, shrugging his shoulders. “I don’t know you. I don’t owe you any money.”
“Do you mean to say we didn’t give an entertainment together last evening at Wilkesville?” asked Philip, rather taken aback by the man’s sublime impudence.
“My young friend, you have been dreaming. Prove what you say and I will admit your claim.”
Up to this point those present, deceived by the professor’s coolness, really supposed him to be in the right. That was what Riccabocca anticipated, and hoped to get off before the discovery of the truth could be made. But he did not know that Philip had a competent witness at hand.
“Mr. Gates!” called Philip.
The portly landlord of the Wilkesville Hotel entered the room, and Riccabocca saw that the game was up.
“Mr. Gates, will you be kind enough to convince this gentleman that he owes me money?” asked Philip.
“I think he won’t deny it now,” said Gates significantly. “He walked off from my hotel this morning, leaving his bill unpaid. Professor Riccabocca, it strikes me you had better settle with us, unless you wish to pass the night in the lockup.”
Professor Riccabocca gave a forced laugh.
“Why, Mr. de Gray,” he said, “you ought to have known that I was only playing a trick on you.”