Bill Vanderhook listens. What he hears chills his blood,--congeals it. He hears the frozen pellets rattle through his veins. “Oh, my Llama Lonnie, it is not here.” “Yes, my Goo-goo Eyes, it is, it is.” “I don’t believe it, my Llama,” whispered Imogene. “But it _must_ be, it _must_ be there my lady bird; for I happen to know something of the jurisprudence of Illinois.” Bill was struck by the expression of their faces. He had never before seen the astral man evince any sort of anxiety over anything. He never remembered seeing that look in Mrs. Vanderhook’s face, except when she wanted something he couldn’t buy. But he could no longer restrain himself. The jealous husband sacrificed his curiosity to gratify his anger. With one bound he cleared the threshold and landed in the middle of the den, full under the light of the Turkish lantern. “You measly monstrosity!”--he cried in a loud voice. “Get ye back!--get ye back to your musty old lair in Gingalee!”--and lifting his walking stick he brought it down upon the despoiler of his peace. “And this is how you occupy yourself in my absence!”--he bawled. “These are the uses to which you put my house and my furniture, and my books! Is it for this that I run a drug store and--for Mayor the rest of the time? What new infernal scheme are you hatching now?”--and Mr. Vanderhook pounded the air,--instead of Alonzo Leffingwell. Alonzo sat on the couch. He leaned against Mr. Vanderhook’s cushions. At the first stroke Imogene had leaped from the couch; but the mystic never turned a hair, much less his head. A shower of blows fell harmlessly upon the gilded frame of the costly couch. There were some gilt chips on the carpet, some abrasions on the walking stick, but--the gentleman who had been beaten sat wholly unmoved, upright and smiling. When it was all over, however, he rose, bowed mockingly and silently floated out of the room alongside of Imogene, who had regained her composure. The deserted man now seized upon the book which had fallen from the hands of the surprised couple and lay upon the floor. He glanced at the title and then--his eyes were opened a little wider. Now he saw it all. Now he understood the weepiness in their tones as they had turned the pages. The gay Gnani of Gingalee and Mrs. William K. Vanderhook had been reading the “_Statutes of Illinois_.” The section on Divorce was blurred by tears. But alas, as they had discovered, even this liberal and up-to-date commonwealth does not recognize the astral. Their case was therefore without parallel or precedent. These two had found in their particular case _that there was no cause for divorce_. When he finally took in the whole force of the incident Bill vibrated with wrath. He dashed the book upon the floor of his den. He tore the brilliant Bagdad from its moorings of silken pillows; and then, as if by a wicked inspiration, he stooped, seized both book and drapery and dashed them into the open, glowing grate.