The departure of Jimmy and the crazed mother was the occasion for a general relaxing among the remaining occupants of the room. Exhausted by what had passed Zoie had ceased to interest herself in the future. It was enough for the present that she could sink back upon her pillows and draw a long breath without an evil face bending over her, and without the air being rent by screams.

As for Aggie, she fell back upon the window seat and closed her eyes. The horrors into which Jimmy might be rushing had not yet presented themselves to her imagination.

Of the three, Alfred was the only one who had apparently received exhilaration from the encounter. He was strutting about the room with the babe in his arms, undoubtedly enjoying the sensations of a hero. When he could sufficiently control his feeling of elation, he looked down at the small person with an air of condescension and again lent himself to the garbled sort of language with which defenceless infants are inevitably persecuted.

“Tink of dat horrid old woman wanting to steal our own little oppsie, woppsie, toppsie babykins,” he said. Then he turned to Zoie with an air of great decision. “That woman ought to be locked up,” he declared, “she's dangerous,” and with that he crossed to Aggie and hurriedly placed the infant in her unsuspecting arms. “Here, Aggie,” he said, “you take Alfred and get him into bed.”

Glad of an excuse to escape to the next room and recover her self control, Aggie quickly disappeared with the child.

For some moments Alfred continued to pace up and down the room; then he came to a full stop before Zoie.

“I'll have to have something done to that woman,” he declared emphatically.

“Jimmy will do enough to her,” sighed Zoie, weakly.

“She's no business to be at large,” continued Alfred; then, with a business-like air, he started toward the telephone.

“Where are you going?” asked Zoie.

Alfred did not answer. He was now calling into the 'phone, “Give me information.”

“What on earth are you doing?” demanded Zoie, more and more disturbed by his mysterious manner.

“One can't be too careful,” retorted Alfred in his most paternal fashion; “there's an awful lot of kidnapping going on these days.”

“Well, you don't suspect information, do you?” asked Zoie.

Again Alfred ignored her; he was intent upon things of more importance.

“Hello,” he called into the 'phone, “is this information?” Apparently it was for he continued, with a satisfied air, “Well, give me the Fullerton Street Police Station.”

“The Police?” cried Zoie, sitting up in bed and looking about the room with a new sense of alarm.

Alfred did not answer.

“Aggie!” shrieked the over-wrought young wife.

Alfred attempted to reassure her. “Now, now, dear, don't get nervous,” he said, “I am only taking the necessary precautions.” And again he turned to the 'phone.

Alarmed by Zoie's summons, Aggie entered the room hastily. She was not reassured upon hearing Alfred's further conversation at the 'phone.

“Is this the Fullerton Street Police Station?” asked Alfred.

“The Police!” echoed Aggie, and her eyes sought Zoie's inquiringly.

“Sh! Sh!” called Alfred over his shoulder to the excited Aggie, then he continued into the 'phone. “Is Donneghey there?” There was a pause. Alfred laughed jovially. “It is? Well, hello, Donneghey, this is your old friend Hardy, Alfred Hardy at the Sherwood. I've just got back,” then he broke the happy news to the no doubt appreciative Donneghey. “What do you think?” he said, “I'm a happy father.”

Zoie puckered her small face in disgust.

Alfred continued to elucidate joyfully at the 'phone.

“Doubles,” he said, “yes—sure—on the level.”

“I don't know why you have to tell the whole neighbourhood,” snapped Zoie. Her colour was visibly rising.

But Alfred was now in the full glow of his genial account to his friend. “Set 'em up?” he repeated in answer to an evident suggestion from the other end of the line, “I should say I would. The drinks are on me. Tell the boys I'll be right over. And say, Donneghey,” he added, in a more confidential tone, “I want to bring one of the men home with me. I want him to keep an eye on the house to-night”; then after a pause, he concluded confidentially, “I'll tell you all about it when I get there. It looks like a kidnapping scheme to me,” and with that he hung up the receiver, unmistakably pleased with himself, and turned his beaming face toward Zoie.

“It's all right, dear,” he said, rubbing his hands together with evident satisfaction, “Donneghey is going to let us have a Special Officer to watch the house to-night.”

“I won't HAVE a special officer,” declared Zoie vehemently; then becoming aware of Alfred's great surprise, she explained half-tearfully, “I'm not going to have the police hanging around our very door. I would feel as though I were in prison.”

“You ARE in prison, my dear,” returned the now irrepressible Alfred. “A prison of love—you and our precious boys.” He stooped and implanted a gracious kiss on her forehead, then turned toward the table for his hat. “Now,” he said, “I'll just run around the corner, set up the drinks for the boys, and bring the officer home with me,” and drawing himself up proudly, he cried gaily in parting, “I'll bet there's not another man in Chicago who has what I have to-night.”

“I hope not,” groaned Zoie. as the door closed behind him. Then, thrusting her two small feet from beneath the coverlet and perching on the side of the bed, she declared to Aggie that “Alfred was getting more idiotic every minute.”

“He's worse than idiotic,” corrected Aggie. “He's getting dangerous. If he gets the police around here before we give that baby back, they'll get the mother. She'll tell all she knows and that will be the end of Jimmy!”

“End of Jimmy?” exclaimed Zoie, “it'll be the end of ALL of us.”

“I can see our pictures in the papers, right now,” groaned Aggie. “Jimmy will be the villain.”

“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.