e heavy rugs, also green in
foundation; and, with wide, effective spaces between, stood
uncomfortable Gothic chairs, benches, and tables.

Two months ago George would have expressed amazement, perhaps
admiration. Now he said nothing, but he longed for Squibs' opinion of
the room. He questioned what it reflected of the pompous little man who
had brought him.

Wandel stooped and lighted the fire. He switched the heavy green
curtains over the window. In a corner a youth stirred and yawned.

"Hello, Dalrymple," Wandel said. "Waited long? You know that very great
man, Morton?"

The increasing firelight played on Dalrymple's face, a countenance
without much expression, intolerant, if anything, but in a far weaker
sense than Sylvia's assurance. George recognized him. He had seen him
accompany Goodhue through the crowd the day of the first examination.
Dalrymple didn't disturb himself.

"The football player? How do. Damn tea, Spike. You've got whiskey and a
siphon."

George's hand had been ready. He was thankful he hadn't offered it. In
that moment a dislike was born, not very positive; the emotion one has
for an unwholesome animal.

Wandel disappeared. After a moment he came in, wearing a fantastic
embroidered dressing gown of the pervading dead green tone. He lighted a
spirit lamp, and, while the water heated, got out a tea canister, cups,
boxes of biscuits, cigarettes, bottles, and glasses. Dalrymple poured a
generous drink. Wandel took a smaller one.

"You," he said to George, "being a very great man, will have some tea."

"I'll have some tea, anyway," George answered.

The door opened. Goodhue strolled in. His eyebrows lifted when he saw
George.

"Do you know you're in bad company, Morton?"

"I believe so," George answered.

Wandel was pleased. George saw Goodhue glance a question at Dalrymple.
Dalrymple merely stared.

They sat about, sipping, talking of nothing in particular, and the
curious room was full of an interrogation. George lost his earlier fancy
of being under Wandel's inspection. It was evident to him now that
Wandel was the man to do his inspecting first. Why the deuce had he
asked him here? Dalrymple and Goodhue were clearly puzzled by the same
question.

When he had emptied his cup George rose and put on his cap.

"Thanks for the cup of tea, Wandel."

"Don't go," Wandel urged.

He waved his hands helplessly.

"But, since you're a very distinguished person, I suppose I can't keep
y