a drawer.

"Cigar or cigarette?" he said, calmly.

"Neither, you old fool," I retorted, turning the knob and tugging upon
it. "I have no time for a smoke."

The door was locked. The old gentleman settled back in his twirling
chair and regarded me with a twinkle in his eye as I vainly tried to
pull the door open, and I realized that I was helpless.

"Better sit down and enjoy a quiet smoke with me," he said, calmly.
"Take off that absurd-looking tile and talk to me."

"I haven't anything to say to you," I replied. "Not a word. Do you
intend to let me out of this or not?"

"All in good time--all in good time," he said. "Let's talk it over.
Why do you wish to go? Don't you find me good company?"

"You're a stupid old idiot!" I shouted, almost weeping with rage.
"Locking me up in your rotten old den here when you must realize what
you are depriving me of. What earthly good it does you I can't see."

[Illustration: "THE DOOR WAS LOCKED"]

"It does me lots of good," he said, with a chuckle. "Really, sir, it
gives me a new sensation--first new sensation I have had in a long,
long time. Let me see now, just how many names have you called me in
the three minutes I have had the pleasure of your acquaintance?"

"Give me time, and I'll call you a lot more," I retorted, sullenly.

"Good--I'll give you the time," he said. "Go ahead. I'll listen to you
for a whole hour. What am I besides a meddler, and a stupid old idiot,
and an old fool?"

"You're a gray-headed maniac, and a--a zinc-fastened Zany. A doddering
dotard and a chimerical chump," I said.

"Splendid!" roared he, with a spasm of laughter that seemed nearly to
rend him. "Go on. Keep it up. I am enjoying myself hugely."

"You're a sneak-livered poltroon to treat me this way," I added,
indignantly.

"That's the best yet," he interrupted, slapping his knee with delight.
"Sneak-livered poltroon, eh? Well, well, well. Go on. Go on."

"If you'll give me a copy of Roget's _Thesaurus_, I'll tell you what
else you are," I retorted, with a note of sarcasm in my voice. "It
will require a reference to that book to do you justice. I can't begin
to carry all that you are in my mind."

"With pleasure," said he, and reaching over to his bookcase he took
thence the desired volume and handed it to me. "Proceed," he added. "I
am all ears."

"Most jackasses are," I returned, savagely.

"Magnificent," he cried, ecstatically. "You are a genius at epithet.
But there's the bo