Vandover was sitting bolt upright in his chair, his hands gripping the table, his eyes staring straight before him.  He was barking incessantly.  It was evident that now he could not stop himself; it was like hysterical laughter, a thing beyond his control.  Twice young Haight called him by name, kicking the door as his leg hung against it.  At last Vandover heard him.  Then as he caught sight of his face over the door he raised his upper lip above his teeth and snarled at him, long and viciously.

As Haight dropped down into the hall a waiter came running up; he, too, had heard the noise of the breaking dishes.  As he thrust his key into the lock he paused a moment, listening and looking in a puzzled way at young Haight.  “They have a dog in here, then?  They had no dog when they came.  That’s funny!”

“Open the door,” said young Haight quietly.  Once inside Haight went directly to Vandover, crying out:  “Come! come on, Van! come home with me.”  Vandover started suddenly, looking about him bewildered, drawing his hand across his face.

“Home,” he repeated vaguely; “yes, that’s the idea.  Let’s go home.  I want to go to bed.  Hello, Dolly! where did you come from?  Say, Dolly, let me tell you—­listen here—­come down here close; you mustn’t mind me; you know I’m a wolf mostly!”

They went down toward the Lick House.  Vandover grew steadier after a few minutes in the open air.  Young Haight locked arms with him; they went on together in silence.  By this time the streets were crowded again, the theatres were over, and the college men were once more at large.  Now they were all gathered together into one immense procession, headed by a brass band in a brewer’s wagon, and they tramped aimlessly to and fro about Kearney and Market streets, making a hideous noise.  At the head the band was playing a popular quick-step with a great banging of a bass drum.  The college men in the front ranks were singing one song, those in the rear another, while the middle of the column was given over to an abominable medley of fish-horns, policemen’s rattles and great Chinese gongs.  At stated intervals the throng would halt and give the college yell.

“Dolly, you and I used to do that,” said Vandover, looking after the procession.  He had himself well in hand by this time.  “What was the matter with me back there at the restaurant, Dolly?” he asked after a while.

“Oh, you’d been drinking a good deal, I guess,” answered young Haight.  “You—­you had some queer idea about yourself!”

“Yes, I know,” answered Vandover quickly.  “Fancied I was some kind of a beast, didn’t I—­some kind of wolf?  I have that notion sometimes and I can’t get it out of my head.  It’s curious just the same.”

They went up to Vandover’s room.  Vandover lit the gas, but he could hardly keep back an exclamation as the glare suddenly struck young Haight’s face.  What in heaven’s name was the matter with his old-time chum?  He seemed to be blighted, shattered, struck down by some terrible, overwhelming calamity.  A dreadful anguish looked through his eyes.  The sense of a hopeless misery had drawn and twisted his face.  There could be no doubt that something had made shipwreck of his life.  Vandover was looking at a ruined man.