Two hours later they set foot in New York.
"Now, Phil," said the doctor, "my business will not take long.
After that, if there are any friends you would like to see, I
will go with you and find them."
"I should like to see Paul Hoffman," said Phil. "I owe him two
dollars and a half for the fiddle."
"He shall be paid," said the doctor. "He shall lose nothing by
trusting you."
An hour afterward, while walking with the doctor in a side
street, Phil's attention was attracted by the notes of a
hand-organ. Turning in the direction from which they came, he
met the glance of his old enemy, Pietro.
"It is Pietro," he said, quickly, touching the arm of his
companion.
Pietro had not been certain till then that it was Phil. It
looked like him, to be sure, but his new clothing and general
appearance made such a difference between him and the Phil of
former days that he would have supposed it only an accidental
resemblance. But Phil's evident recognition of him convinced him
of his identity. He instantly ceased playing, and, with eager
exultation, advanced to capture him. Phil would have been
alarmed but for his confidence in the doctor's protection.
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