“'Darling, so lonesome without you. Cried all day. When are you coming home to your wee sad wifie? Love and kisses. Zoie.'” Tearing the defenceless telegram into bits, Alfred threw it from him and waited for his friend's verdict. “She sent that over the wire?” gasped Jimmy. “Oh, that's nothing,” 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 woman is an artist.” “What are you going to do?” asked Jimmy, for the want of anything better to say. “I am going to leave her,” declared Alfred emphatically. “I am going away.”