“Step in to the office, Tony,” said Mr. Maitland kindly and sadly.
“I don't wish to take your time, sir,” said Tony, sobered and quieted by Mr. Maitland's manner, “but my mind is quite made up. I—”
“Come in,” said Mr. Maitland, in a voice of quiet command, throwing open his office door. “I wish to speak to you.”
“Oh, certainly, sir,” answered Tony, pulling himself together with an all too obvious effort.
In half an hour Tony came forth, a sober and subdued man.
“Good-bye, Wickes,” he said, “I'm off.”
“Where are you going, Tony?” enquired Wickes, startled at the look on Tony's face.
“To hell,” he snapped, “where such fools as me belong,” and, jamming his hat hard down on his head, he went forth.
In another minute Mr. Maitland appeared at the office door.
“Wickes,” he said sharply, “put on your hat and get Jack for me. Bring him, no matter what he's at. That young fool who has just gone out must be looked after. The boot-leggers have been taking him in tow. If I had only known sooner. Did you know, Wickes, how he has been going on? Why didn't you report to me?”