inexhaustible!

He blinked a little; and then with a roar he jumped for Jenkins, but
O'Keefe shoved him back. Panting and struggling between the two
officers, and fairly at bay at last, the desperate old man seemed to
determine one last bluff, don't you know, and with the janitor.

"Here, you," he bellowed, as the man dodged behind Jenkins. "You have
seen me come in this building often! Tell 'em so, or I'll kill you!"

The little man turned pale, but came up pluckily.

"If--if I had," he stammered, "you never would have come in again, if I
knew as much about you as I do now. I assure you, gents, I never laid
eyes on this man before."

"Well, I'll be--"

He broke off and seemed to fall out of the grasp of the men backward
into a big chair. Couldn't quit his jolly acting, it was clear to me,
even when he had played his last card.

"Is everybody crazy, or am I?" he said, brushing his hand across his
forehead; and dashed if the perspiration didn't stand on it in big
drops, clear up into his old bald pate.

"See here," he broke out again, addressing O'Keefe, "send for somebody
else in this building; send for--" He seemed to deliberate.

The policeman laughed derisively.

"Likely we'll be hauling people out of bed at this hour, isn't it," he
sneered, "just to let you keep up this fool's game!" He leveled his
stick menacingly. "Now, looky here, Braxton!" he exclaimed sternly.

"I'm being easy with you because you're a gray-headed old man, but--"

By Jove, it was plain he had struck a sensitive point!

"Gray-headed old man!" shouted the fellow, coming out of the chair like
a rubber ball, and pointing to his reflection in the long mirror. "Does
that look like gray hair--that red topknot? It'll _be_ gray, though, if
this infernal craziness goes on much longer--I'll say that much!" And
back he flopped into the chair.

The two officers exchanged glances, and, by Jove, they looked ugly!

"Call for the wagon, Tim," said O'Keefe shortly, indicating the 'phone.
"The fool's going to give trouble. Kahoka Apartments, tell them. Hurry;
let's get him to the street."

He made a dive at the figure in the chair and jerked him forward.

But his grip seemed to slip and he only moved his prisoner a few inches.
He tried again with about the same result.

"Get a move on, Tim," he said pantingly. "He's bigger, somehow, than he
looks, and awful heavy; it'll take both of us. Get up, Braxton, unless
you want the club!"

The man