guessing who was at the other end of the wire, he picked up his receiver and answered.     

       “What?” he exclaimed in surprise. “Mrs. Hardy?” Several times he opened his lips to ask a question, but it was apparent that the person at the other end of the line had a great deal to say and very little time to say it, and it was only after repeated attempts that he managed to get in a word or so edgewise.     

       “What's happened?” he asked.     

       “Say nothing to anybody,” was Zoie's noncommittal answer, “not even to Aggie. Jump in a taxi and come as quickly as you can.”      

       “But what IS it?” persisted Jimmy. The dull sound of the wire told him that the person at the other end had “hung up.”      

       Jimmy gazed about the room in perplexity. What was he to do? Why on earth should he leave his letters unanswered and his mail topsy turvy to rush forth in the shank of the morning at the bidding of a young woman whom he abhorred. Ridiculous! He would do no such thing. He lit a cigar and began to open a few letters marked “private.” For the life of him he could not understand one word that he read. A worried look crossed his face.     

       “Suppose Zoie were really in need of help, Aggie would certainly never forgive him if he failed her.” He rose and walked up and down.     

       “Why was he not to tell Aggie?”      

       “Where was Alfred?” He stopped abruptly. His over excited imagination had suggested a horrible but no doubt accurate answer. “Wedded to an abomination like Zoie, Alfred had sought the only escape possible to a man of his honourable ideals—he had committed suicide.”      

       Seizing his coat and hat Jimmy dashed through the outer office without instructing his astonished staff as to when he might possibly return.     

       “Family troubles,” said the secretary to himself as he appropriated one of Jimmy's best cigars.     

  

       CHAPTER IV     

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