“Jimmy IS a villain,” declared Zoie. “Where is he? Why doesn't he come back? How am I ever going to get that other twin?” “There is only one thing to do,” decided Aggie, “I must go for it myself.” And she snatched up her cape from the couch and started toward the door. “You?” cried Zoie, in alarm, “and leave me alone?” “It's our only chance,” argued Aggie. “I'll have to do it now, before Alfred gets back.” “But Aggie,” protested Zoie, clinging to her departing friend, “suppose that crazy mother should come back?” “Nonsense,” replied Aggie, and before Zoie could actually realise what was happening the bang of the outside door told her that she was alone. CHAPTER XXV Wondering what new terrors awaited her, Zoie glanced uncertainly from door to door. So strong had become her habit of taking refuge in the bed, that unconsciously she backed toward it now. Barely had she reached the centre of the room when a terrific crash of breaking glass from the adjoining room sent her shrieking in terror over the footboard, and head first under the covers. Here she would doubtless have remained until suffocated, had not Jimmy in his backward flight from one of the inner rooms overturned a large rocker. This additional shock to Zoie's overstrung nerves forced a wild scream from her lips, and an answering exclamation from the nerve-racked Jimmy made her sit bolt upright. She gazed at him in astonishment. His tie was awry, one end of his collar had taken leave of its anchorage beneath his stout chin, and was now just tickling the edge of his red, perspiring brow. His hair was on end and his feelings were undeniably ruffled. As usual Zoie's greeting did not tend to conciliate him. “How did YOU get here?” she asked with an air of reproach. “The fire-escape,” panted Jimmy and he nodded mysteriously toward the inner rooms of the apartment. “Fire-escape?” echoed Zoie. There was only one and that led through the bathroom window. Jimmy explained no further. He was now peeping cautiously out of the window toward the pavement below. “Where's the mother?” demanded Zoie. Jimmy jerked his thumb in the direction of the street. Zoie gazed at him with grave apprehension. “Jimmy!” she exclaimed. “You haven't killed her?” Jimmy shook his head and continued to peer cautiously out of the window. “What did you do with her?” called the now exasperated Zoie. “What did _I_ do with her?” repeated Jimmy, a flash of his old resentment returning. “What did SHE do with ME?” For the first time, Zoie became fully conscious of Jimmy's ludicrous appearance. Her overstrained nerves gave way and she began to laugh hysterically. “Say,” shouted Jimmy, towering over the bed and devoutly wishing that she were his wife so that he might strike her with impunity. “Don't you sic any more lunatics onto me.”