“He’s got a room on Dewolf Street,” said Everett. “He told me the number, but I’m afraid I’ve forgotten it. However, it won’t be very hard to find, I guess. If you like, I’ll go along with you.
“I don’t know what’s come over Phil,” he continued, as they began their quest. “He’s left our table and he hasn’t been around to see me once. I met him at the Union the other day and that’s the only time I’ve had sight of him. He said the reason he left the table was because he couldn’t afford it.”
“Ah,” said John. He thought he knew the solution of Phil’s disappearance. Somehow, he told himself, Phil had discovered the condition of the family finances and, animated by some idiotic pride, was keeping aloof from his friends. “Just the sort of fool thing he would do,” thought John.
They hadn’t far to seek. The second house they stopped at was the yellow one with the boiled-cabbage aroma. The landlady, a red-haired slattern who wiped the soapsuds from her hands and arms as she opened the door, informed them somewhat crossly that Mr. Ryerson had roomed at her house, but that he had moved away that very day.
“Not an hour ago,” she said. “No; I don’t know where he’s gone. Likely the expressman could tell you. His name’s Donovan and he has a stand on the corner there beyond. All I know is the gentleman took my room until college ended and now he’s gone and thrown it up.” She closed the door behind them with angry violence.
“I can’t honestly blame him,” said Kingsford dryly. “The smell is enough to make one throw up anything, even a room.”
The expressman was absent, and inquiries at the corner grocery failed to enlighten them as to his whereabouts or as to the time of his return. “We’ll have to give up for to-day, I guess,” John said. “You might ask around, Kingsford. Surely, somebody must know where he is!”
But what search failed to find, accident revealed. Phillip could not hope to avoid John forever. He knew that sometime they must meet, and, incensed as he was by what he termed the other’s treachery, he dreaded the meeting. It took place that Monday evening.
In honour of his installation in the new quarters, Chester had persuaded Phillip to take dinner with him at his boarding-house. As it happened, John, at the invitation of a friend, had also been a guest at the same place. When John came downstairs after dinner he literally ran into Phillip and Chester at the front door. Phillip did not see John until the latter had seized him by the arm and swung him around.
“Well, Phil! You’re really alive?”