“You old reprobate!” I cried; “not to have met me at the station, even.”

“Bless my soul, Jack, this cable was the first intimation that you were within 3,000 miles of London.  But it does my heart good to see you!” pumping my hand again.  “Come out to dinner with me.  Now don’t begin to talk till we’ve had something to eat; I’m almost famished.  I know all the questions you want to ask, but not now.  There’s a Bohemian joint a block above that’ll do your heart good to see.  We’ll have chops and ale, just like we did in the old days, the green and salad days, I would they were back again”—­soberly.  “Oh, I’ve a long story to tell you, my son; time enough when we get to my rooms; but not a word of it now—­not a word.  It will all be forgotten in ten minutes with you.  We’ll rake up the old days and live ’em over for an hour or so.  I’m glad that I suggested you in my letter.  What did the old man say about my nervous prostration?”—­with half a laugh.

“He put quotation marks around it,” I answered.  “I wanted to see you particularly.  They told me that you were rolling downhill so fast that if some one did not put a fulcrum under you, you’d be at the bottom in no time at all.  I’m going to be the lever by which you are to be rolled uphill again.”

He smiled grimly.  “If any one could do that—­well, here we are;” and we entered the chop house and took a table in one of the side rooms.  “Woods,” he said to the waiter, “chops for two, chipped potatoes, and fill up those steins of mine with ale.  That will be all.  I brought those steins from across, Jack; you’ll go crazy over them, for they are beauties.”

A college-bred bachelor, nine times out of ten, has a mania for collecting pipes or steins, or both.  Dan and I had been affected this way.  During the year I had studied at Heidelberg I had gathered together some fifty odd pipes and steins.  I have them yet, and many a pleasant memory they beget me.  As for the steins of Dan, they were beyond compare.

“I’ll tell you a story about them,” said Dan, after he had taken a deep swallow of the amber ale.  “Few men can boast of steins like these.  Not many months ago there was a party of men and women, belonging to the capital of a certain kingdom, who attended a dinner.  It was one of those times when exalted personages divest themselves of the dignity and pomp of court and become free and informal.  There were twenty of these steins made especially for the occasion.  By a circumstance, over which I had no control, I was the only alien at this dinner.  The steins were souvenirs.  How I came by two was due to the lady whom I took down to dinner, and who presented hers to me after having—­after having—­well, kissed the rim.  Do you see the crest?” pointing to the exquisite inlaid work.

“Why,” I said eagerly, “it is the crest of——­”

“Yes, a noted King,” Dan completed.  “And these were made by his express command.  But never mind,” he broke off.  “It’s merely a part of the story I am going to tell you when we get to my rooms.  I am always thinking of it, night and day, day and night.  Talk to me, or I’ll be drinking again.  This is the first time I’ve been sober in a month.  It’s drink or morphine or something like.  Do you ever see anything of the old glee boys?”