The Young Musician; Or, Fighting His Way

CHAPTER XXX. A TIMELY GIFT

The reader has not forgotten that Farmer Lovett, when Philip refused to accept any compensation for assisting to frustrate the attempt at burglary, handed him a sealed envelope, which he requested him not to open till he was fifty miles away from Norton.

Philip had carried this about in his pocket ever since. He had thought of it as likely to contain some good advice at the time; but it had since occurred to him that the farmer had not had time to write down anything in that line.

He was disposed to think that the mysterious envelope might contain a five-dollar bill, as a slight acknowledgment of his services.

Though Philip had declined receiving any payment, it did seem to him now that this amount of money would relieve him from considerable embarrassment. He therefore drew a penknife from his pocket and cut open the envelope.

What was his amazement when he drew out three bills—two twenties and a ten—fifty dollars in all! There was a slip of paper, on which was written, in pencil:

“Don’t hesitate to use this money, if you need it, as you doubtless will. I can spare it as well as not, and shall be glad if it proves of use to one who has done me a great service. JOHN LOVETT.”

“What’s that!” asked the landlord, regarding Philip with interest.

“Some money which I did not know I possessed,” answered Philip.

“How much is there?”

“Fifty dollars.”

“And you didn’t know you had it?” asked the publisher—rather incredulously, it must be owned.

“No, sir; I was told not to open this envelope till I was fifty miles away from where it was given me. Of course, Mr. Gates, I am now able to pay all my bills, and to repay you for what you handed Mr. Gunn.”

“I am pleased with your good fortune,” said the landlord cordially.

“Thank you, sir.”

“But I am sorry your knavish partner has cheated you out of so much money.”

“I shall make him pay it if I can,” said Philip resolutely.

“I approve your pluck, and I wish you success.”

“He owes you money, too, Mr. Gates. Give me the bill, and I will do my best to collect it.”

“If you collect it, you may have it,” said Gates. “I don’t care much for the money, but I should like to have the scamp compelled to fork it over.”

“I wish I knew where he was likely to be,” said Philip.

“He may go to Knoxville,” suggested the publisher.

“How far is that?”

“Ten miles.”

“What makes you think he will go to Knoxville?” asked the landlord.

“He may think of giving a performance there. It is a pretty large place.”

“But wouldn’t he be afraid to do it, after the pranks he has played here?”

“Perhaps so. At any rate, he is very likely to go there.”

“I will go there and risk it,” said Philip. “He needn’t think he is going to get off so easily, even if it is only a boy he has cheated.”

“That’s the talk, Mr. Gray!” said the landlord. “How are you going?” he asked, a minute later.

“I can walk ten miles well enough,” answered Philip.

He had considerable money now, but he reflected that he should probably need it all, especially if he did not succeed in making the professor refund, and decided that it would be well to continue to practice economy.

“I have no doubt you can,” said the landlord, “but it will be better not to let the professor get too much the start of you. I will myself have a horse harnessed, and take you most of the distance in my buggy.”

“But, Mr. Gates, won’t it be putting you to a great deal of trouble?”

“Not at all. I shall enjoy a ride this morning, and the road to Knoxville is a very pleasant one.”

“Let me pay something for the ride, then.”

“Not a cent. You will need all your money, and I can carry you just as well as not,” said the landlord heartily.

“I am very fortunate in such a kind friend,” said Philip gratefully.

“Oh, it isn’t worth talking about! Here, Jim, go out and harness the horse directly.”

When the horse was brought round, Philip was all ready, and jumped in.

“Would you like to drive, Mr. Gray?” asked the landlord.

“Yes,” answered Philip, with alacrity.

“Take the lines, then,” said the landlord.

Most boys of Philip’s age are fond of driving, and our hero was no exception to the rule, as the landlord supposed.

“You’ll promise not to upset me,” said Mr. Gates, smiling. “I am getting stout, and the consequences might be serious.”

“Oh, I am used to driving,” said Philip, “and I will take care not to tip over.”

The horse was a good one, and to Philip’s satisfaction, went over the road in good style.

Philip enjoyed driving, but, of course, his mind could not help dwelling on the special object of his journey.

“I hope we are on the right track,” he said. “I shouldn’t like to miss the professor.”

“You will soon know, at any rate,” said Gates. “It seems to me,” he continued, “that Riccabocca made a great mistake in running off with that money.”

“He thought it would be safe to cheat a boy.”

“Yes; but admitting all that, you two were likely to make money. In Wilkesville your profits were a hundred dollars in one evening. Half of that belonged to the professor, at any rate. He has lost his partner, and gained only fifty dollars, which would not begin to pay him for your loss.”

“Perhaps he thought he would draw as well alone.”

“Then he is very much mistaken. To tell the plain truth, our people thought very little of his share of the performance. I saw some of them laughing when he was ranting away. It was you they enjoyed hearing.”

“I am glad of that,” said Philip, gratified.

“There’s no humbug about your playing. You understand it. It was you that saved the credit of the evening, and sent people away well satisfied.”

“I am glad of that, at any rate, even if I didn’t get a cent for my playing,” said Philip, well pleased.

“The money’s the practical part of it,” said the landlord. “Of course, I am glad when travelers like my hotel, but if they should run off without paying, like the professor, I shouldn’t enjoy it so much.”

“No, I suppose not,” said Philip, with a laugh.

They had ridden some seven miles, and were, therefore, only three miles from Knoxville, without the slightest intimation as to whether or not they were on the right track.

To be sure, they had not expected to obtain any clue so soon, but it would have been very satisfactory, of course, to obtain one.

A little farther on they saw approaching a buggy similar to their own, driven by a man of middle age. It turned out to be an acquaintance of the landlord’s, and the two stopped to speak.

“Going to Knoxville on business, Mr. Gates?” asked the newcomer.

“Well, not exactly. I am driving this young man over. By the way, have you seen anything of a tall man, with long, black hair, dressed in black?”

“Yes. Do you want to see him?”

“This young man has some business with him. Where did you see him?”

“He arrived at our hotel about an hour since, I calculate.”

Philip’s heart bounded with satisfaction at this important news.

“Did he put up there?”

“Yes. I believe he is going to give a reading this evening.”

“Thank you!”

“The professor must be a fool!” said the landlord, as they drove away.

“I begin to think so myself,” replied Philip.

“That’s all in our favor, however. We shall get back that money yet.”

The horse was put to his speed, and in fifteen minutes they reached Knoxville.

CHAPTER XXXI. THE PROFESSOR’S FLIGHT

Professor Lorenzo Riccabocca was not a wise man. It would have been much more to his interest to deal honestly with Philip, paying his share of the profits of the first performance, and retaining his services as associate and partner.

But the professor was dazzled by the money, and unwilling to give it up. Moreover, he had the vanity to think that he would draw nearly as well alone, thus retaining in his own hands the entire proceeds of any entertainments he might give.

When he met Philip on the road he was well-nigh penniless. Now, including the sum of which he had defrauded our hero and his creditors in Wilkesville, he had one hundred and fifty dollars.

When the professor went to bed, he had not formed the plan of deserting Philip; but, on awaking in the morning, it flashed upon him as an excellent step which would put money in his pocket.

He accordingly rose, dressed himself quietly, and, with one cautious look at Philip—who was fast asleep—descended the stairs to the office.

Only the bookkeeper was in the office.

“You are stirring early, professor,” he said.

“Yes,” answered Riccabocca, “I generally take a morning walk, to get an appetite for breakfast.”

“My appetite comes without the walk,” said the bookkeeper, smiling.

“If Mr. de Gray comes downstairs, please tell him I will be back soon,” said Riccabocca.

The bookkeeper readily promised to do this, not having the slightest suspicion that the distinguished professor was about to take French leave.

When Professor Riccabocca had walked half a mile he began to feel faint. His appetite had come.

“I wish I had stopped to breakfast,” he reflected. “I don’t believe De Gray will be down for an hour or two.”

It was too late to go back and repair his mistake. That would spoil all. He saw across the street a baker’s shop, just opening for the day, and this gave him an idea.

He entered, bought some rolls, and obtained a glass of milk, and, fortified with these, he resumed his journey.

He had walked three miles, when he was over-taken by a farm wagon, which was going his way.

He hailed the driver—a young man of nineteen or thereabouts—ascertained that he was driving to Knoxville, and, for a small sum, secured passage there.

This brings us to the point of time when Philip and Mr. Gates drove up to the hotel at Knoxville.

“I can see the professor,” said Philip, in eager excitement, when they had come within a few rods of the inn.

“Where is he?”

“He is in the office, sitting with his back to the front window. I wonder what he will have to say for himself?”

“So do I,” said the landlord curiously.

“Shall we go in together?” questioned Philip.

“No; let us surprise him a little. I will drive around to the sheds back of the hotel, and fasten my horse. Then we will go round to the front, and you can go in, while I stand outside, ready to appear a little later.”

Philip thought this a good plan. He enjoyed the prospect of confronting the rogue who had taken advantage of his inexperience, and attempted such a bold scheme of fraud. He didn’t feel in the least nervous, or afraid to encounter the professor, though Riccabocca was a man and he but a boy. When all was ready, Philip entered through the front door, which was open, and, turning into the office, stood before the astonished professor.

The latter started in dismay at the sight of our hero. He thought he might be quietly eating breakfast ten miles away, unsuspiciously waiting for his return. Was his brilliant scheme to fail? He quickly took his resolution—a foolish one. He would pretend not to know Philip.

“Well, Professor Riccabocca,” Philip said, in a sarcastic tone, “you took rather a long walk this morning.”

The professor looked at him vacantly.

“Were you addressing me?” he inquired.

“Yes, sir,” answered Philip, justly provoked.

“I haven’t the pleasure of your acquaintance, young man.”

“I wish I hadn’t the pleasure of yours,” retorted Philip.

“Do you come here to insult me?” demanded Riccabocca, frowning.

“I came here to demand my share of the money received for the entertainment last evening, as well as the money paid for the hall, the printer, and bill-poster.”

“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 Riccaboeca 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.”

“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.

They waited five minutes, and the professor did not come down.

“What can keep him?” said Philip.

Just then one of the hostlers entered and caught what our hero had said.

“A man has just run out of the back door,” he said, “and is cutting across the fields at a great rate.”

“He must have gone down the back stairs,” said the clerk.

“In what direction would he go?” asked Philip hastily.

“To the railroad station. There is a train leaves in fifteen minutes.”

“What shall we do, Mr. Gates?” asked Philip, in dismay.

“Jump into my buggy. We’ll get to the depot before the train starts. We must intercept the rascal.”

CHAPTER XXXII. THE RACE ACROSS FIELDS

It so happened that Professor Riccabocca had once before visited Knoxville, and remembered the location of the railroad station. Moreover, at the hotel, before the arrival of Philip, he had consulted a schedule of trains posted up in the office, and knew that one would leave precisely at ten o’clock.

The impulse to leave town by this train was sudden. He had in his pocket the wallet containing the hundred and fifty dollars, of which a large part belonged to Philip, and could have settled at once, without the trouble of going upstairs to his room.

He only asked leave to go up there in order to gain time for thought. At the head of the staircase he saw another narrower flight of stairs descending to the back of the house. That gave him the idea of eluding his two creditors by flight.

I have said before that Professor Riccabocca was not a wise man, or he would have reflected that he was only postponing the inevitable reckoning. Moreover, it would destroy the last chance of making an arrangement with Philip to continue the combination, which thus far had proved so profitable.

The professor did not take this into consideration, but dashed down the back stairs, and opened the back door into the yard.

“Do you want anything, sir?” asked a maidservant, eyeing the professor suspiciously.

“Nothing at all, my good girl,” returned the professor.

“You seem to be in a hurry,” she continued, with renewed suspicion.

“So I am. I am in a great hurry to meet an engagement.”

“Why didn’t you go out the front door?” asked the girl.

“Oh, bother! What business is it of yours?” demanded the professor impatiently.

And, not stopping for further inquiries, he vaulted over a fence and took his way across the fields to the station.

“Here, Sam,” called the girl, her suspicions confirmed that something was wrong, “go after that man as fast as you can!”

This was addressed to a boy who was employed at the hotel to go on errands and do odd jobs.

“What’s he done?” asked Sam.

“I don’t know; but he’s either run off without paying his bill, or he’s stolen something.”

“What good’ll it do me to chase him?” asked Sam.

“If he’s cheated master, he’ll pay you for catching the man.”

“That’s so,” thought Sam. “Besides, I’ll be a detective, just like that boy I read about in the paper. I’m off!”

Fired by youthful ambition, Sam also vaulted the fence, and ran along the foot-path in pursuit of the professor.

Lorenzo Riccabocca did not know he was pursued. He felt himself so safe from this, on account of the secrecy of his departure, that he never took the trouble to look behind him. He knew the way well enough, for the fields he was crossing were level, and half a mile away, perhaps a little more, he could see the roof of the brown-painted depot, which was his destination. Once there, he would buy a ticket, get on the train, and get started away from Knoxville before the troublesome acquaintances who were waiting for him to come down-stairs had any idea where he was gone.

The professor ran at a steady, even pace, looking straight before him. His eyes were fixed on the haven of his hopes, and he did not notice a stone, of considerable size, which lay in his path. The result was that he stumbled over it, and fell forward with considerable force. He rose, jarred and sore, but there was no time to take account of his physical damages. He must wait till he got on the train.

The force with which he was thrown forward was such that the wallet was thrown from his pocket, and fell in the grass beside the path. The professor went on his way, quite unconscious of his loss, but there were other eyes that did not overlook it.

Sam, who was thirty rods behind, noticed Professor Riccabocca’s fall, and he likewise noticed the wallet when he reached the spot of the catastrophe.

“My eyes!” he exclaimed, opening those organs wide in delight; “here’s luck! The old gentleman has dropped his pocketbook. Most likely it’s stolen. I’ll carry it back and give it to Mr. Perry.”

Sam very sensibly decided that it wasn’t worth while to continue the pursuit, now that the thief, as he supposed Riccabocca to be, had dropped his booty.

Sam was led by curiosity to open the wallet. When he saw the thick roll of bills, he was filled with amazement and delight.