d and a cur, but just now he was
feeling rather jolly. Addressing Underwood with impudent familiarity, he
went on:

"The d----d boy didn't seem to know if you were in or not, so I came up
anyhow." Glancing at Bennington, he added: "Sorry, if I'm butting in."

Underwood was not in the humor to be very gracious. Long ago young
Howard Jeffries had outgrown his usefulness as far as he was concerned.
He was at a loss to guess why he had come to see him uninvited, on this
particular Sunday night, too. It was with studied coldness, therefore,
that he said:

"Sit down--I'm glad to see you."

"You don't look it," grinned Howard, as he advanced further into the
room with shambling, uncertain steps.

Concealing his ill humor and promising himself to get rid of his
unwelcome visitor at the first opportunity, Underwood introduced the two
men.

"Mr. Bennington--Mr. Howard Jeffries, Jr."

Mr. Bennington had heard of the elder Jeffries' trouble with his
scapegrace son, and he eyed, with some interest, this young man who had
made such a fiasco of his career.

"Oh, I know Bennington," exclaimed Howard jovially. "I bought an
elephant's tusk at his place in the days when I was somebody." With mock
sadness he added, "I'm nobody now--couldn't even buy a collar button."

"Won't you sit down and stay awhile?" said Underwood sarcastically.

"If you don't mind, I'll have a drink first," replied Howard, making his
way to the desk and taking up the whiskey decanter.

Underwood did not conceal his annoyance, but his angry glances were
entirely lost on his new visitor, who was rapidly getting into a maudlin
condition. Addressing Bennington with familiarity, Howard went on:

"Say, do you remember that wonderful set of ivory chessmen my old man
bought?"

Bennington smiled and nodded.

"Yes, sir; I do, indeed. Ah, your father is a fine art critic!"

Howard burst into boisterous laughter.

"Art critic!" he exclaimed. "I should say he was. He's a born critic. He
can criticise any old thing--every old thing. I don't care what it is,
he can criticise it. 'When in doubt--criticise,' is nailed on father's
escutcheon." Bowing with mock courtesy to each he raised the glass to
his lips and said: "Here's how!"

Bennington laughed good humoredly, and turned to go.

"Well, good night, Mr. Jeffries. Good night, Mr. Underwood."

Underwood followed the manager to the door.

"Good night!" he said gloomily.

CHAPTER VI.

The door sl