g," answered Alfred. "That's a mild one." And he
selected another from the same pocket. "Here, listen to this. This is
what she REALLY did. This is from my secretary the same night."

"You spied upon her!" asked Jimmy, feeling more and more convinced that
his own deceptions would certainly be run to earth.

"I HAVE to spy upon her," answered Alfred, "in self-defence. It's the
only way I can keep her from making me utterly ridiculous." And he
proceeded to read from the secretary's telegram. "'Shopped all
morning. Lunched at Martingale's with man and woman unknown to
me--Martingale's,'" he repeated with a sneer--"'Motored through Park
with Mrs. Wilmer until five.' Mrs. Wilmer," he exclaimed, "there's a
woman I've positively forbidden her to speak to."

Jimmy only shook his head and Alfred continued to read.

"'Had tea with Mr. and Mrs. Thompson and young Ardesley at the Park
View.' Ardesley is a young cub," explained Alfred, "who spends his time
running around with married women while their husbands are away trying
to make a living for them."

"Shocking!" was the extent of Jimmy's comment, and Alfred resumed
reading.

"'Dinner and theatre same party. Supper at Wellingford. Home two A. M.'"
He looked at Jimmy, expecting to hear Zoie bitterly condemned. Jimmy
only stared at him blankly. "That's pretty good," commented Alfred, "for
the woman who 'CRIED' all day, isn't it?"

Still Jimmy made no answer, and Alfred brought his fist down upon the
table impatiently. "Isn't it?" he repeated.

"She was a bit busy THAT day," admitted Jimmy uneasily.

"The truth!" cried Alfred again, as he rose and paced about excitedly.
"Getting the truth out of Zoie is like going to a fire in the night. You
think it's near, but you never get there. And when she begins by saying
that she's going to tell you the 'REAL truth'"--he threw up his hands in
despair--"well, then it's time to leave home."

CHAPTER VI

There was another pause, then Alfred drew in his breath and bore down
upon Jimmy with fresh vehemence. "The only time I get even a semblance
of truth out of Zoie," he cried, "is when I catch her red-handed."
Again he pounded the table and again Jimmy winced. "And even then," he
continued, "she colours it so with her affected innocence and her plea
about just wishing to be a 'good fellow,' that she almost makes me doubt
my own eyes. She is an artist," he declared with a touch of enforced
admiration. "There's no use talking; that