He was plainly under the influence of liquor. When he left home that evening he had sworn to Annie that he would not touch a drop, but by the time he reached the Astruria his courage failed him. He rather feared Underwood, and he felt the need of a stimulant to brace him up for the "strike" he was about to make. The back door of a saloon was conveniently open and while he was refreshing himself two other men he knew dropped in. Before he knew it, half a dozen drinks had been absorbed, and he had spent the whole of $5 which his wife had intrusted to him out of her carefully hoarded savings. When he sobered up he would realize that he had acted like a coward 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."