o's desk and give this guy a long, careless once over,
puttin' everything I had on the stare.

"I ain't got no more idea who you are," I tells him finally, "than a
oyster has of roller-skatin'. Who are you? I never seen _your_ face
on no postage stamps!"

"Oh, I say!" he busts out, registerin' wild indignation. "Don't you
ever read the newspapers?"

"Sure!" I says. "But then, escapin' convicts don't get much space in
'em any more! At that, I think I know you now, though."

"I should think you jolly well would!" he comes back, calmin' down
some. "Why--"

"Yes!" I goes on. "I got you. I've met so many from your lodge it's
funny I didn't recognize the high signs right away. You're a big,
tinhorn four-flusher!"

Sweet Cookie!

His face did a Georgie Cohan, gettin' red, white and blue by turns, and
he pawed the air, gaspin' for breath like a fat piano mover. Before he
can get set for a comeback, they's a loud crash outside the door,
followed by the well known dull thud. In another minute Kid Scanlan
walks in, draggin' somethin' after him by the back of the neck.

"Look what _I_ found!" chirps the Kid, droppin' the thing on the floor.

"By Jove!" squeals the big guy. "He's killed my dresser!"

I got up from the chair and took a flash. Sure enough, the thing the
Kid had dragged in was a human bein'. He was a long, lean guy, lookin'
like he'd been over here about long enough to tell the judge that
George Washington discovered America, was president now and stopped the
Civil War, and can he please have his first papers, so's he can vote
against suffrage.

His one good eye opens and examines the room. Then he hops off the
floor, shoots a hand inside his pocket and yanks it out with a thing
that looked like a undeveloped spear.

"_Sapristi_!" he remarks loudly--and makes a dive at the Kid.

The chair I throwed at him was wasted, because Scanlan stepped aside
and flattened the assassin with a left hook to the jaw. The big guy
gives one yell and rushes out of the office.

"Who's your friend?" I asks the Kid, pointin' to the sleepin' beauty on
the floor.

The Kid glares down at the body and prods it with his foot.

"The big stiff!" he says. "I should have murdered him!"

"Well," I tells him soothin'ly, "it ain't too late yet! What started
the melee?"

He sits on the side of the desk and lights a cigarette.

"This hick is standin' outside here," he begins, "when I come along as
peaceful as th