He went into a beer saloon in the city, a place to which some of the more weak and reckless of the students occasionally resorted. Half a dozen men were in the room; and among them, leaning against the bar, an object of entertainment to them, was some poor fellow in an advanced state of inebriety. It needed but the second glance to tell Van Loan that the drunken man was Charley Lee.
Lee discovered Van Loan at once.
“Hello, Vanly!” he cried. “Why, m’ dear boy, I haven’t seen you since—since—say, Billy,” turning to the saloon-keeper, who stood behind the bar, “give this man a drink; anything ’e wants; he’s frien’ o’ mine.”
He had already staggered forward and embraced Van Loan effusively. Some strange turn of his drunken fancy had presented the man to his disordered mind as his bosom friend.
For the moment Van Loan was at a loss what to do or say. Then there shot suddenly into his mind a scheme for revenge as daring as it was dastardly.
“I will,” he said to himself, “lead this drunken fellow through the streets of the city and up College Hill to his home, in broad daylight, a spectacle for all men!”
Van Loan turned the thought over in his mind as if it were incomparably sweet. He waited but a moment to perfect his plan. Then he turned quietly to Lee.
“Come, Charley,” he said, “let’s go home and sober up; they’ll be looking for you, you know.”
The saloon-keeper came out from behind the bar and called Van Loan aside.