“I give up,” said the judge, with something like a break in his voice. “Go on; do what you want.” “Call me anything you want,” said Dangerfield, with the same ominous calm. “Probably I am a fool; possibly I always have been one, but that’s why I’m going to carry my point.” The judge put up his hands in helpless rage and went stumbling down the hall, while those in O’Leary’s room heard him exclaim, “Mad--perfectly mad!” By this time, the Three Arts, so to speak, had come to the same conclusion. “Wish the devil he’d get it over with,” said Flick wearily, “whatever he’s going to do. I’ve seen some sporting life, but, holy cats! this being on the jump all hours of the night and day is getting into my constitution.” “I say, Music,” said Tootles, equally distressed, “why don’t you loosen up and tell what you know. We’ve stood enough, don’t you think?” Thus confronted, O’Leary said cautiously: “Well, what’s puzzling you?” “Puzzling us! That’s good!” said Flick, with a loud laugh. “What we want to know is what’s all this mystery-game--and, most important, when do we settle down and sleep?” “Why, I don’t see why I shouldn’t tell you what I know,” said O’Leary frankly, “specially as you must have guessed the same. From all I can figure, it’s a family affair; friend in corner has forced a divorce; leastwise it must be so, for, from all we can put together, that’s what brought the woman here that night to try and get him to give up the idea. Likewise, when that failed, looks as though they tried to get him jugged for a loony and put away.” “But why should she care about preventing the divorce?” said Flick. “Question of money, I suppose,” said O’Leary thoughtfully. “But, then, Drinkwater?” said Tootles. “How was he in it? I know that he must have been spying around and carrying information and that he was in the plot to get us out the way--yes, yes--but this last business--what the deuce did he say that started Dangerfield off like a wild bull?” O’Leary shook his head. “Some dirty business--the fellow was double-crossing some one, perhaps.” “Well, when is it going to stop?” said Flick querulously. “That’s the only thing interests me.” “I imagine it’s over now,” said O’Leary, who knew of the granting of the divorce but was ignorant of any further complications; “in fact, I’m positive.” “You are, eh?” said Flick incredulously. “I’d take my oath on it.” At this moment, there came a sharp, rattling knock; the door opened, and Dangerfield walked in. “Am I interrupting?” “No.” There had come a change in the man which struck them at once; the indecision and groping weariness of the last days had lifted. He seemed alive with energy and action, and yet, as he stood there looking about the room, there was about him momentarily the same expression which had startled them on his first appearance. “What can we do for you?” asked O’Leary naturally and heartily.