Alf, Tom, Dan, and Joe Chambers were already inside as Gerald gave the password and was admitted. Chambers was a tall First Classman, who wore glasses and tried his best to look cultured. Joe rather fancied himself as a molder of public opinion, and really did have a knack of writing red-hot editorials. When Gerald came in he was sprawled in an easy chair, visibly amused by the proceedings.
“We are all here,” announced Alf, gravely. “The Sergeant-at-Arms—I mean the Incendiary—will lock the door. Hold on a minute, though!” He took a sheet of foolscap from a table drawer, and pinned it on the outside of the door, under the first sign. The others followed him and read:
INITIATION NOW GOING ON.
NO ADMITTANCE.
“There,” said Alf, “I guess that’s some businesslike, what?”
“Look here,” said Joe, uneasily, “you didn’t say anything about initiation when you beguiled me to this den of iniquity.”
“My dear chap,” expostulated Alf, “you didn’t think, did you, that you could join a society of this sort without being initiated? Why, that’s absurd, positively absurd. Isn’t it, Tom?”
“Silly,” grunted Tom.
“Of course.” Alf locked the door. “The initiation will now proceed. The novitiates will remove their coats and waistcoats, please.”
Arthur obeyed smilingly, but Joe Chambers looked a trifle uneasy, and hesitated. “What for?” he asked. “What do you think you’re going to do with me?”