Underwood opened the door and Howard entered jauntily.
"Hello, fellers, how goes it?" was his jocular greeting.
He was plainly under the influence of liquor. When he left home that evening he had sworn to Annie that he would not touch a drop, but by the time he reached the Astruria his courage failed him. He rather feared Underwood, and he felt the need of a stimulant to brace him up for the "strike" he was about to make. The back door of a saloon was conveniently open and while he was refreshing himself two other men he knew dropped in. Before he knew it, half a dozen drinks had been absorbed, and he had spent the whole of $5 which his wife had intrusted to him out of her carefully hoarded savings. When he sobered up he would realize that he had acted like a coward and a cur, but just now he was feeling rather jolly. Addressing Underwood with impudent familiarity, he went on:
"The d—d boy didn't seem to know if you were in or not, so I came up anyhow." Glancing at Bennington, he added: "Sorry, if I'm butting in."
Underwood was not in the humor to be very gracious. Long ago young Howard Jeffries had outgrown his usefulness as far as he was concerned. He was at a loss to guess why he had come to see him uninvited, on this particular Sunday night, too. It was with studied coldness, therefore, that he said:
"Sit down—I'm glad to see you."
"You don't look it," grinned Howard, as he advanced further into the room with shambling, uncertain steps.
Concealing his ill humor and promising himself to get rid of his unwelcome visitor at the first opportunity, Underwood introduced the two men.
"Mr. Bennington—Mr. Howard Jeffries, Jr."
Mr. Bennington had heard of the elder Jeffries' trouble with his scapegrace son, and he eyed, with some interest, this young man who had made such a fiasco of his career.