waited for the bullet to emerge. Then, all of
a sudden, he recalled that there had been no explosion. The fact had
escaped him during the throes of a far from disagreeable death. He put
his hand to his stomach. In a dumb sort of wonder he first examined
his fingers, and, finding no gore, proceeded to a rather careful
inspection of the weapon.

Then he leaned back and dizzily tried to remember when he had taken
the cartridges out of the thing.

"Thank the Lord," he said, quite devoutly. "I thought I was a goner,
sure. Now, when did I take 'em out?"

The elevator shot past him, going upward. He paid no attention to it.

It all came back to him in a flash. He remembered that he had never
loaded it at all. A loaded pistol is a very dangerous thing to have
about the house. The little box of cartridges that came with the
weapon was safely locked away at the bottom of the trunk, wrapped in a
thick suit of underwear for protection against concussion.

Even as he congratulated himself on his remarkable foresight the
elevator, filled with excited men, rushed past him on the way down. He
heard them saying that a dangerous lunatic was at large and that he
ought to be----But he couldn't hear the rest of it, the car being so
far below him.

"By jingo!" he exclaimed, leaping to his feet in consternation.
"They'll get me now. What a blamed fool I was!"

Scared out of his wits, he dashed up the steps, three at a jump, and,
before he knew it, ran plump into the midst of the women who were
huddled at Nellie's landing, waiting for the shots and the death yells
from below. They scattered like sheep, too frightened to scream, and
he plunged through the open door into the apartment.

"Where are you, Nellie?" he bawled. "Hide me! Don't let 'em get me.
Nellie! Oh, Nellie!"

The shout would have raised the dead. Nellie was at the telephone. She
dropped the receiver and came toward him.

"Aren't you ashamed of yourself!" she squealed, clutching his arm.
"What an awful spectacle you've made of yourself--and me! You
blithering little idiot. I----"

"Where can I hide?" he whispered, hopping up and down in his
eagerness. "Hurry up! Under a bed or--anywhere. Good gracious, Nellie,
they'll get me sure!"

She slammed the door.

"I ought to let them take you and lock you up," she said, facing him.
The abject terror in his eyes went straight to her heart. "Oh, you
poor thing!" she cried, in swift compassion. "You--you wouldn't hurt a
fly