The janitor, who had been cautiously sighting through the door within, came running out.
"He shifted around while I was looking, and I got a good look at him," he said with some excitement, "and I never saw him before. I wouldn't forget that mug!"
"Suppose you take a squint at him yourself, O'Keefe," suggested the taller of the coppers. "You've been on this beat so long."
In a minute or two O'Keefe came slipping back hurriedly. He drew his companion aside.
"Tell you what, Tim," I heard him say, "do you know, I'm after thinking it looks like old Braxton, known in the perfesh as 'Foxy Grandpa.' He's a swell con man, but has just finished a stretch at Copper John's for going through a flat in the Bronx. He's done murder once."
The other turned to me.
"May save a muss in your rooms if you'll just kinder call him out, sir," he suggested. "It will be simpler." He grinned significantly and glanced at his night stick.
"By Jove!" I ejaculated, looking at Jenkins. "By Jove, you know!"
Jenkins coughed. "Just say you want to speak to him a minute, sir," he said. "They'll do the rest—h'm!"
They all followed me into the hall, and I stepped to the doorway. And then I almost pitched forward, I was so devilish startled.