But for the publicity, I should have yelled from the window.

"Where's Mr. Lightnut?" he demanded.

"Oh, he's all right." I decided to adopt that soothing tone that I had
read somewhere was the proper caper with lunatics.

"Where?" Jenkins insisted, pushing nearer.

And dashed if I knew what to answer; for, if I made a mistake, it might
be serious, by Jove! Perhaps some jocular reply would be safest--might
divert his attention, you know.

The open window gave me an idea.

"Why, do you know," I said pleasantly, "I just chucked him down into the
street."

It sounded like a cannon cracker, that gun! The shower of splintered
glass from the picture between the windows barely missed me. But I never
waited a second--for this last devilish straw was too much, don't you
know, and something had to be done. I leaped for the weapon as it struck
the hardwood floor between us, jerked from Jenkins' hand by the
unfamiliar upward kick. Another instant and I was poking the muzzle into
his side.

"I've just had enough of this, you fool!" I cried impatiently. "Here,
take a good look at me!" I pushed my face closer. "Look at me, I tell
you!"

By Jove, he shuddered! His eyes, wide distended with terror, rolled to
the ceiling.

"I can't," he whispered; "I just can't--anything but that! Only,
please--please don't kill me, too."

"Kill you?" I said, frowning sternly as he gave a furtive glance. "I
certainly will, if you don't take a good look at me!"

He gave a sort of despairing sigh and closed his eyes so tightly the
lashes disappeared. "All right, then," he said sullenly; "you may kill
me!"

The way with these lunatics, I thought. Next thing, he would be begging
and insisting that I kill him. I motioned to the door of my guest-room
and gave him a push.

"In there," I said, "and keep perfectly quiet."

And as he shot inside, I closed the door and locked it. I just had to
take the chance of his hurting himself against the walls and furniture;
I didn't believe he was so crazy he would undertake the six-story leap
to the ground. Listening, I heard something like a sob. Then I caught my
name.

"Poor Mr. Lightnut," came chokingly; "the kindest, gentlest master!" And
then more sobs and gulps.

By Jove, under his insane delusion, the poor beggar was grieving for me;
not thinking of himself at all, you know. I felt my eyes grow a bit
moist, somehow, and all at once my heart went heavy. Thought how long
poor old Jenkins had be