At the hotel table that night Joe noticed that Iredell was not present.
“Wonder where Iredell is,” he remarked to Jim, who was sitting beside him.
“Search me,” answered the latter. “He may be in later. He’s so grouchy just now that he seems to be keeping away from the rest of the fellows as much as he can. You can’t get a pleasant word out of him these days. I spoke to him to-day on the bench, and he nearly snapped my head off.”
“Too bad,” remarked Joe, regretfully. “I’ve gone out of my way to be friendly with him, but he won’t have it. Seems to think that I’m to blame for all his troubles.”
They would have been still more concerned about the missing member of the team, could they have seen him at that moment.
Iredell, on his way to the hotel, had drifted into one of the low resorts which ostensibly sold only soft drinks, but where it was easy enough to get any kind of liquor in the back room. To his surprise, he saw Hupft, McCarney and Lemblow sitting at one of the tables.
There was a momentary hesitation on the part of the trio before they ventured to speak to him, for they did not feel sure how their advances would be received. But a glance at his face showed that he was in a dejected and reckless mood, and that decided them.
“Hello, Iredell,” called out McCarney, with an assumption of boisterous cordiality. “Sit down here and take a load off your feet. Have something with us at my expense.”
Three months before, Iredell would have scorned the invitation. Now he accepted it.
They talked of indifferent matters, the others studying Iredell intently.