half!" answered the professor.

Philip's eyes sparkled.

"And how much will that be over and above expenses?" he asked.

"My dear Mr. de Gray, we will settle all bills, and make a fair and
equitable division, in the morning. I think there will be a little more
than fifty dollars to come to each of us."

"Fifty dollars for one evening's work!" repeated Philip, his eyes
sparkling.

"Oh, I have done much better than that," said the professor. "I remember
once at St. Louis I made for myself alone one hundred and eighty dollars
net, and in Chicago a little more."

"I didn't think it was such a money-making business," said Philip,
elated.

"Yes, Mr. de Gray, the American people are willing to recognize talent,
when it is genuine. You are on the threshold of a great career, my dear
young friend."

"And only a week since I was in the Norton Poorhouse," thought Philip.
"It is certainly a case of romance in real life."

The two went to bed soon, being fatigued by their exertions. The
apartment was large, and contained two beds, a larger and smaller one.
The latter was occupied by our hero.

When he awoke in the morning, the sun was shining brightly into the
room. Philip looked toward the opposite bed. It was empty.

"Professor Riccabocca must have got up early," he thought. "Probably he
did not wish to wake me."

He dressed and went downstairs.

"Where is the professor?" he asked of the clerk.

"He started away two hours since--said he was going to take a walk. Went
away without his breakfast, too. He must be fond of walking."

Philip turned pale. He was disturbed by a terrible suspicion. Had the
professor gone off for good, carrying all the money with him?

CHAPTER XXIX. BESET BY CREDITORS.

Philip was still a boy, and though he had discovered that the professor
was something of a humbug, and a good deal of a braggart, it had not for
a moment occurred to him that he would prove dishonest. Even now he did
not want to believe it, though he was nervously apprehensive that it
might prove true.

"I will take my breakfast," he said, as coolly as was possible, "and the
professor will probably join me before I am through."

The clerk and the landlord thought otherwise. They were pretty well
convinced that Riccabocca was dishonest, and quietly sent for those to
whom the "combination" was indebted: namely, the printer and publisher
of the Daily Bulletin, the agent of the music-hall, and the bill-sticker
w