“I supposed you were,” said Philip.
“No, I don’t mean that. I was only pretending I didn’t know you, to see if I could act naturally enough, to deceive you.”
“Why did you desert me?” asked Philip suspiciously.
“I started to take a walk—didn’t the bookkeeper tell you?—and finding a chance to ride over here, thought I would do so, and make arrangements for our appearance here. Of course, I intended to come back, and pay our good friend, the landlord, and give you your share of the common fund.”
Neither Gates nor Philip believed a word of this. It seemed to them quite too transparent.
“You may as well pay us now, Professor Riccabocca,” said the landlord dryly.
“I hope you don’t suspect my honor or integrity,” said Riccabocca, appearing to be wounded at the thought.
“Never mind about that,” said Mr. Gates shortly. “Actions speak louder than words.”
“I am quite ready to settle—quite,” said the professor. “The money is in my room. I will go up and get it.”
There seemed to be no objection to this, and our two friends saw him ascend the staircase to the second story. Philip felt pleased to think that he had succeeded in his quest, for his share of the concert money would be nearly seventy dollars. That, with the balance of the money; received from Farmer Lovett, would make over a hundred dollars.