“The OFFICER?” cried Aggie, and involuntarily she took a step backward, as though to guard the bedroom door. “Yes,” said Alfred, mistaking Aggie's surprise for a compliment to his resource; “and now, Aggie, if you'll just stay with Zoie for a minute I'll have a look at my boys.” “No, no!” exclaimed Aggie, nervously, and she placed herself again in front of the bedroom door. Alfred was plainly annoyed by her proprietory air. “They're asleep,” explained Aggie. “I'll not WAKE them,” persisted Alfred, “I just wish to have a LOOK at them,” and with that he again made a move toward the door. “But Alfred,” protested Zoie, still clinging to his hand, “you're not going to leave me again--so soon.” Alfred was becoming more and more restive under the seeming absurdity of their persistent opposition, but before he could think of a polite way of over-ruling them, Aggie continued persuasively. “You stay with Zoie,” she said. “I'll bring the boys in here and you can both have a look at them.” “But Aggie,” argued Alfred, puzzled by her illogical behaviour, “would it be wise to wake them?” “Just this once,” said Aggie. “Now you stay here and I'll get them.” Before Alfred could protest further she was out of the room and the door had closed behind her, so he resigned himself to her decision, banished his temporary annoyance at her obstinacy, and glanced about the room with a new air of proprietorship. “This is certainly a great night, Zoie,” he said. “It certainly is,” acquiesced Zoie, with an over emphasis that made Alfred turn to her with new concern. “I'm afraid that mad woman made you very nervous, dear,” he said. “She certainly did,” said Zoie. Zoie's nerves were destined to bear still further strain, for at that moment, there came a sharp ring at the door. Beside herself with anxiety Zoie threw her arms about Alfred, who had advanced to soothe her, drew him down by her side and buried her head on his breast. “You ARE jumpy,” said Alfred, and at that instant a wrangle of loud voices, and a general commotion was heard in the outer hall. “What's that?” asked Alfred, endeavouring to disentangle himself from Zoie's frantic embrace. Zoie clung to him so tightly that he was unable to rise, but his alert ear caught the sound of a familiar voice rising above the din of dispute in the hallway. “That sounds like the officer,” he exclaimed. “The officer?” cried Zoie, and she wound her arms more tightly about him. CHAPTER XXVII Propelled by a large red fist, attached to the back of his badly wilted collar, the writhing form of Jimmy was now thrust through the outer door. “Let go of me,” shouted the hapless Jimmy. The answer was a spasmodic shaking administered by the fist; then a large burly officer, carrying a small babe in his arms, shoved the reluctant Jimmy into the centre of the room and stood guard over him.