It was also a habit of theirs to try the doors of a large teakwood cabinet in one corner of the room. The doors were always locked, and they sighed with patient doggedness. Some time, they told themselves, Ranjab would forget to lock those doors, and then---- “Joe,” said Mr Dawes, after he had tried the doors on this particular occasion, “I made a terrible mistake in letting poor Jim get married again. I'll never forgive myself.” He had said this at least a hundred times during the past three months. Sometimes he cried over it. “Danbury, old pal, you must not take all the blame for that. I am as much at fault as you, blast you!” Mr Riggs always ended his confession with an explosion that fairly withered his friend and gave the lie to his attempt at humility. “That's right,” snapped Mr Dawes; “curse me for it!” “Don't make so much noise.” “If you were ten years younger I'd--I'd----” blustered Dawes. “I wish Jack Desmond had lived,” mused the other, paying no attention to the belligerent. “He would have put a stop to this fool marriage.” They sat down and pondered. “If Jim had to marry someone, why didn't he marry right here at home?” demanded Dawes, turning fiercely on his friend. “Because,” said Riggs, with significant solemnity, “he is in the habit of marrying away from home. Look at the first one. He married her, didn't he? And see what came of it. He ought to have had more sense the second time. But marrying men never do get any sense. They just marry, that's all.” “Jim's getting mighty cranky of late,” ruminated Dawes, puffing away at his unlighted cigar. “It's a caution the way he snaps Freddy off these days. He--he hates that boy, Joe.” “_Sh--h!_ Not so loud!” “Confound you, don't you know a whisper when you hear it?” demanded Dawes, who, in truth, had whispered. Another potential silence. “Freddy goes about with her a good deal more than he ought to,” said Riggs at last. “They're together two-thirds of the time. Why--why, he heels her like a trained dog. Playing the pianner morning, noon, and night, and out driving, and going to the theatre, and----” “I've a notion to tell Jim he ought to put a stop to it,” said the other. “It makes me sick.” “Jim'll do it without being told one o' these days, so you keep out of it. Say, have you noticed how piqued Lydia's looking these times? She's not the same girl, Dan; not the same girl. Something's wrong.” He shook his head gloomily. “It's that dog-goned woman,” announced Dawes explosively, and then looked over his shoulder with apprehension. A sigh of relief escaped him. “She's got no business coming in between Lydia and Freddy,” said Riggs. “Looks as though she's just set on busting it up. What can she possibly have against poor little Lydia? She's good enough for Freddy. Too good, by hokey! 'Specially when you stop to think.” “Now don't begin gossiping,” warned Dawes, glaring at him. “You're as bad as an old woman.”