"You can't make me talk," he growled.
I played with the revolver. "There's not a soul in the building but ourselves," I said offhand.
The janitor lived on the top floor, but I supposed he didn't know that.
He wilted right down. He had no nerve at all. "I ain't got nothin' against you personally," he whined. "I only got my living to make the same as yourself."
"Who hired you to trail me?" I asked.
"I don't know what guy's got it in for you," he stammered. "Honest, I only got my orders from the office."
"What office?"
"If you queer me there I'll lose my job. I'm a married man with two children."
"I'll tell them I put a gun to your head."
"Aw, let me go. I ain't got nothin' against you."