his hands with satisfaction.

"Why do you call me Mr. de Gray?" asked Philip, thinking he had been
misunderstood. "It is plain Gray, without any de."

"I am only using your professional name," answered the professor. "Don't
you know people will think a great deal more of you if they suppose you
to be a foreigner?"

Philip laughed.

"Is Lorenzo Riccabocca your true or professional name, professor?" he
asked.

"Professional, of course. My real name--I impart it to you in the
strictest confidence--is Lemuel Jones. Think of it. How would that look
on a poster?"

"It would not be so impressive as the other."

"Of course not; and the public need to be impressed. I thank thee for
that word, Mr. de Gray. By the way, it's rather a pity I didn't give you
a Spanish or Italian name."

"But I can't speak either language. It would be seen through at once."

"People wouldn't think of asking. You'd be safe enough. They will
generally swallow all you choose to say."

They went down to dinner presently, and the professor--Philip could not
help thinking--ate as if he were half-starved. He explained afterward
that elocutionary effort taxes the strength severely, and makes hearty
eating a necessity.

After dinner was over the professor said:

"Are you content, Mr. de Gray, to leave me to make the necessary
arrangements?"

"I should prefer that you would," said Philip, and he spoke sincerely.
"Probably you understand much better than I what needs to be done."

"'Tis well! Your confidence is well placed," said the professor, with a
wave of his hand. "Shall you remain in the hotel?"

"No, I think I will walk about the town and see a little of it. I have
never been here before."

Philip took a walk through the principal streets, surveying with
curiosity the principal building's, for, though there was nothing
particularly remarkable about them, he was a young traveler, to whom
everything was new. He could not help thinking of his late home, and in
particular of Frank Dunbar, his special friend, and he resolved during
the afternoon to write a letter to Frank, apprising him of his luck
thus far. He knew that Frank would feel anxious about him, and would be
delighted to hear of his success as a musician.

He went into a book-store and bought a sheet of paper and an envelope.

He had just completed his letter, when his partner entered the
reading-room of the hotel with a brisk step.

"Mr. de Gray," he said, "I have made all