At that moment the door opened and O'Rourke entered. Without noticing Hemming he gave a folded paper to the clerk.
"You'll find that right enough," he said—and then his eye lighted upon his old comrade. He grasped the Englishman by the shoulders and shook him backward and forward, grinning all the while a wide, yellow grin.
"My dear chap," protested Hemming, "where have you been to acquire this demonstrative nature?"
"Lots of places. Come and have a drink," exclaimed O'Rourke.
"I'll mail that to your hotel," called the pale young man after them, as they hurried out.
"What are you up to now, my son?" inquired Hemming, critically surveying the other's faultless attire. "You look no end of a toff, in spite of your yellow face."
"Thanks, and I feel it," replied his friend, "but my release is at hand, for to-night I shall hie me to mine uncle's and there deposit these polite and costly garments. Already my riding-breeches and khaki tunic are airing over the end of my bed."
"But why this grandeur, and this wandering about from town to town?" asked Hemming. He caught the quick look of inquiry on his friend's face. "Dodder told me you'd been aimlessly touring through the Eastern States," he added.
"Here we are—come in and I'll tell you about it," replied O'Rourke. They entered the Army and Navy Club, and O'Rourke, with a very-much-at-home air, led the way to a quiet inner room.
"I suppose we'll split the soda the same old way—as we did before sorrow and wisdom came to us," sighed O'Rourke. He gave a familiar order to the attentive waiter. Hemming looked closely at his companion, and decided that the lightness was only a disguise.