“Er—a—yes,” agreed Robert. “It would have kept out the undesirables.”
Parkins promised to use “what little influence he had in spreading the doctrines of the Tribe” and they agreed to get together and work out a constructive program for “putting over” the Trick Track Tribe among the business men of greater Chicago.
The colored porter came through the Pullman, announcing the proximity of Chicago and began brushing off the passengers at the farther end of the car. It was almost noon. Robert looked out of the window. For a long time—hours it seemed—they had been running through rows of ugly factories and houses, rather grimy and bare, with only occasional patches of sooty grass to relieve the monotony. They passed under stiff steel bridges and along bare walls, beneath the level of the street. Then the ground very slowly met the tracks. The stretches of ground—vacant lots, factory sites, parks, were flat and gray. Dirty, yellow and orange street cars jerked along the level streets. Not a hill in sight. Interminable rows of stores, factories, habitations. Increasing soot. A glimpse of great buildings beyond. Then they passed under a huge dark shed. Robert wondered whether McCall would meet him. He had written Bill a week ago. He thought of Dorothy. He felt lonely, oppressed by the massiveness of the dingy station and of the city. Parkins was standing up. So were the other passengers. The train came to a stop and Robert, in line, slowly made his way to the door.
XXX
McCall was there, looking comfortably negligent in a light Norfolk suit and gray cap, a cigarette drooping from the corner of his mouth. It was warm—springlike for a person coming from Corinth—but close and sticky. It was hard to breathe, because of the soot, and bits of it kept getting in his eye.
McCall recognized Robert and whooped for joy. He swore picturesque oaths and called Hamilton vile names, and Robert retorted in kind.
“Sacré bleu! Nom de cochin!” McCall rattled off. How was the tin rib? How was his state of health? How long was he staying? Where was he staying? He asked questions without waiting for answers and Robert answered them by asking others.
“Oh, the eye is all right,” said McCall. “Perfect! Only Doc says I must cut down on the number of eye openers. Levin couldn’t make the train because he’s away on a case, but he wants you to come over to his house Friday evening. You’re not married yet?”
“Nope,” said Robert. “Do I look—”
“Sure you look crazy. Let me take another look at you.” He held him away at arm’s length. “But not crazy enough.”