CHAPTER IV
TO the surprise of his friends, Alan Wayne gave up debauch and found himself employment by the time the spring that saw his dismissal from Maple House had ripened into summer. He was full of preparation for his departure for Africa when a summons from old Captain Wayne reached him.
With equal horror of putting up at hotels or relatives’ houses, the captain, upon his arrival in town, had gone straight to his club, and forthwith become the sensation of the club’s windows. Old members felt young when they caught sight of him, as though they had come suddenly on a vanished landmark restored. Passing gamins gazed on his short-cropped gray hair, staring eyes, flaring collar, black string tie, and flowing broadcloth, and remarked:
“Gee! look at de old spoit in de winder!”
Alan heard the remark as he entered the club, and smiled.
“How do you do, sir?”
“Huh!” grunted the captain. “Sit down.” He ordered a drink for his guest and another for himself. He glared at the waiter. He glared at a callow youth who had come up and was looking with speculative eye at a neighboring chair. The waiter retired almost precipitously. The youth followed.
“In my time,” remarked the captain, “a club was for privacy. Now it’s a haven for bell-boys and a playground for whipper-snappers.”
“They’ve made me a member, sir.”
“Have, eh!” growled the captain, and glared at his nephew. Alan took inspection coolly, a faint smile on his thin face. The captain turned away his bulging eyes, crossed and uncrossed his legs, and finally spoke. “I was just going to say when you interrupted,” he began, “that engineering is a dirty job. Not, however,” he continued after a pause, “dirtier than most. It’s a profession, but not a career.”