"Do you generally play the messenger during business hours?" thundered
Alfred, becoming more and more enraged at Jimmy's petty evasions.
"Just SOMETIMES," answered Jimmy, persisting in his amiable manner.
"Jimmy," said Alfred, and there was a solemn warning in his voice,
"don't YOU lie to me!"
Jimmy started as though shot. The consciousness of his guilt was strong
upon him. "I beg your pardon," he gasped, for the want of anything more
intelligent to say.
"You don't do it well," continued Alfred, "and you and I are old
friends."
Jimmy's round eyes fixed themselves on the carpet.
"My wife has been telling you her troubles," surmised Alfred.
Jimmy tried to protest, but the lie would not come.
"Very well," continued Alfred, "I'll tell you something too. I've done
with her." He thrust his hands in his pockets and began to walk up and
down.
"What a turbulent household," thought Jimmy and then he set out in
pursuit of his friend. "I'm sorry you've had a misunderstanding," he
began.
"Misunderstanding!" shouted Alfred, turning upon him so sharply that he
nearly tripped him up, "we've never had anything else. There was never
anything else for us TO have. She's lied up hill and down dale from the
first time she clinched her baby fingers around my hand--" he imitated
Zoie's dainty manner--"and said 'pleased to meet you!' But I've caught
her with the goods this time," he shouted, "and I've just about got
HIM."
"Him!" echoed Jimmy weakly.
"The wife-stealer," exclaimed Alfred, and he clinched his fists in
anticipation of the justice he would one day mete out to the despicable
creature.
Now Jimmy had been called many things in his time, he realised that he
would doubtless be called many more things in the future, but never by
the wildest stretch of imagination, had he ever conceived of himself in
the role of "wife-stealer."
Mistaking Jimmy's look of amazement for one of incredulity, Alfred
endeavoured to convince him.
"Oh, YOU'LL meet a wife-stealer sooner or later," he assured him. "You
needn't look so horrified."
Jimmy only stared at him and he continued excitedly: "She's had the
effrontery--the bad taste--the idiocy to lunch in a public restaurant
with the blackguard."
The mere sound of the word made Jimmy shudder, but engrossed in his own
troubles Alfred continued without heeding him.
"Henri, the head-waiter, told me," explained Alfred, and Jimmy
remembered guiltily that he had been very bumptious with the fellow.
"You know the place," continued Alfred, "the LaSalle--a restaurant where
I am known--where she is known--where my best friends dine--where Henri
has looked after me for years. That shows how desperate she is. She
must be mad about the fool. She's lost all sense of decency." And again
Alfred paced the floor.