It was Steve Arnsen, of course. No doubt about that. No other man had his great breadth of shoulders, his Herculean build. Ten years ago we had been classmates at Midwestern. I remembered rakehell, laughing, handsome Steve Arnsen very well, with his penchant for getting into trouble and out of it again, usually dragging Douglas O'Brien, his room-mate, along with him like the helpless tail of a kite. Poor Doug! He was the antithesis of Arnsen, a thoughtful, studious boy with the shadow of a dream lurking always in his dark eyes. An idealist was Douglas O'Brien, as his Celtic ancestors had been. Strong friendship had existed between the two men—the mental communion of laughter and a dream.
Arnsen was looking up into the darkening sky, a queer tensity in his posture. He turned abruptly, came to a table near me, and sat down. From his pocket he took a small box. It snapped open. His gaze probed into the unknown thing that was hidden by his cupped hands.
I picked up my drink and went to Arnsen's table. All I could see was the back of his sleek, massive head. Then he looked up—
If ever I saw hell in a man's face, I saw it in Arnsen's then. There was a dreadful longing, and an equally horrible hopelessness, the expression one might see on the face of a damned soul looking up from the pit at the shining gates forever beyond his reach.
And Arnsen's face had been—ravaged.
The searing mark of some experience lay there, branded into his furrowed cheeks, his tightened lips, into his eyes where a sickness dwelt. No—this was not Steve Arnsen, the boy I had known at Midwestern. Youth had left him, and hope as well.
"Vail!" he said, smiling crookedly. "Good Lord, of all people! Sit down and have a drink. What are you doing here?"
I sought for words as I dropped into a chair. Arnsen watched me for a moment, and then shrugged. "You might as well say it. I've changed. Yeah—I know that."
"What happened?" There was no need to fence.
His gaze went beyond me, to the dark sky above the landing field. "What happened? Why don't you ask where Doug is? We always stuck together, didn't we? Surprising to see me alone—"