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.
Wondering what new terrors awaited her, Zoie glanced uncertainly from door to door. So strong had become her habit of taking refuge in the bed, that unconsciously she backed toward it now. Barely had she reached the centre of the room when a terrific crash of breaking glass from the adjoining room sent her shrieking in terror over the footboard, and head first under the covers. Here she would doubtless have remained until suffocated, had not Jimmy in his backward flight from one of the inner rooms overturned a large rocker. This additional shock to Zoie's overstrung nerves forced a wild scream from her lips, and an answering exclamation from the nerve-racked Jimmy made her sit bolt upright. She gazed at him in astonishment. His tie was awry, one end of his collar had taken leave of its anchorage beneath his stout chin, and was now just tickling the edge of his red, perspiring brow. His hair was on end and his feelings were undeniably ruffled. As usual Zoie's greeting did not tend to conciliate him.
"How did YOU get here?" she asked with an air of reproach.
"The fire-escape," panted Jimmy and he nodded mysteriously toward the inner rooms of the apartment.
"Fire-escape?" echoed Zoie. There was only one and that led through the bathroom window.
Jimmy explained no further. He was now peeping cautiously out of the window toward the pavement below.
"Where's the mother?" demanded Zoie.
Jimmy jerked his thumb in the direction of the street. Zoie gazed at him with grave apprehension.
"Jimmy!" she exclaimed. "You haven't killed her?"
Jimmy shook his head and continued to peer cautiously out of the window.
"What did you do with her?" called the now exasperated Zoie.
"What did I do with her?" repeated Jimmy, a flash of his old resentment returning. "What did SHE do with ME?"
For the first time, Zoie became fully conscious of Jimmy's ludicrous appearance. Her overstrained nerves gave way and she began to laugh hysterically.
"Say," shouted Jimmy, towering over the bed and devoutly wishing that she were his wife so that he might strike her with impunity. "Don't you sic any more lunatics onto me."
It is doubtful whether Zoie's continued laughter might not have provoked Jimmy to desperate measures, had not the 'phone at that moment directed their thoughts toward worse possibilities. After the instrument had continued to ring persistently for what seemed to Zoie an age, she motioned to Jimmy to answer it. He responded by retreating to the other side of the room.
"It may be Aggie," suggested Zoie.
For the first time, Jimmy became aware that Aggie was nowhere in the apartment.
"Good Lord!" he exclaimed, as he realised that he was again tete-a-tete with the terror of his dreams. "Where IS Aggie?"
"Gone to do what YOU should have done," was Zoie's characteristic answer.
"Well," answered Jimmy hotly, "it's about time that somebody besides me did something around this place."
"YOU," mocked Zoie, "all YOU'VE ever done was to hoodoo me from the very beginning."
"If you'd taken my advice," answered Jimmy, "and told your husband the truth about the luncheon, there'd never have been any 'beginning.'"
"If, if, if," cried Zoie, in an agony of impatience, "if you'd tipped that horrid old waiter enough, he'd never have told anyway."
"I'm not buying waiters to cover up your crimes," announced Jimmy with his most self-righteous air.
"You'll be buying more than that to cover up your OWN crimes before you've finished," retorted Zoie.
"Before I've finished with YOU, yes," agreed Jimmy. He wheeled upon her with increasing resentment. "Do you know where I expect to end up?" he asked.
"I know where you OUGHT to end up," snapped Zoie.
"I'll finish in the electric chair," said Jimmy. "I can feel blue lightning chasing up and down my spine right now."
"Well, I wish you HAD finished in the electric chair," declared Zoie, "before you ever dragged me into that awful old restaurant."
"Oh, you do, do you?" answered Jimmy shaking his fist at her across the foot of the bed. For the want of adequate words to express his further feelings, Jimmy was beginning to jibber, when the outer door was heard to close, and he turned to behold Aggie entering hurriedly with something partly concealed by her long cape.
"It's all right," explained Aggie triumphantly to Zoie. "I've got it." She threw her cape aside and disclosed the fruits of her conquest.
"So," snorted Jimmy in disgust, slightly miffed by the apparent ease with which Aggie had accomplished a task about which he had made so much ado, "you've gone into the business too, have you?"
Aggie deigned no reply to him. She continued in a businesslike tone to Zoie.
"Where's Alfred?" she asked.
"Still out," answered Zoie.
"Thank Heaven," sighed Aggie, then she turned to Jimmy and addressed him in rapid, decided tones. "Now, dear," she said, "I'll just put the new baby to bed, then I'll give you the other one and you can take it right down to the mother."
Jimmy made a vain start in the direction of the fire-escape. Four detaining hands were laid upon him.
"Don't try anything like that," warned Aggie; "you can't get out of this house without that baby. The mother is down stairs now. She's guarding the door. I saw her." And Aggie sailed triumphantly out of the room to make the proposed exchange of babies.
Before Jimmy was able to suggest to himself an escape from Aggie's last plan of action, the telephone again began to cry for attention.
Neither Jimmy nor Zoie could summon courage to approach the impatient instrument, and as usual Zoie cried frantically for Aggie.
Aggie was not long in returning to the room and this time she bore in her arms the infant so strenuously demanded by its mad mother.
"Here you are, Jimmy," she said; "here's the other one. Now take him down stairs quickly before Alfred gets back." She attempted to place the unresisting babe in Jimmy's chubby arms, but Jimmy's freedom was not to be so easily disposed of.
"What!" he exclaimed, backing away from the small creature in fear and abhorrence, "take that bundle of rags down to the hotel office and have that woman hystericing all over me. No, thanks."
"Oh well," answered Aggie, distracted by the persistent ringing of the 'phone, "then hold him a minute until I answer the 'phone."
This at least was a compromise, and reluctantly Jimmy allowed the now wailing infant to be placed in his arms.
"Jig it, Jimmy, jig it," cried Zoie. Jimmy looked down helplessly at the baby's angry red face, but before he had made much headway with the "jigging," Aggie returned to them, much excited by the message which she had just received over the telephone.
"That mother is making a scene down stairs in the office," she said.
"You hear," chided Zoie, in a fury at Jimmy, "what did Aggie tell you?"
"If she wants this thing," maintained Jimmy, looking down at the bundle in his arms, "she can come after it."
"We can't have her up here," objected Aggie.
"Alfred may be back at any minute. He'd catch her. You know what happened the last time we tried to change them."
"You can send it down the chimney, for all I care," concluded Jimmy.
"I have it!" exclaimed Aggie, her face suddenly illumined.
"Oh Lord," groaned Jimmy, who had come to regard any elation on Zoie's or Aggie's part as a sure forewarner of ultimate discomfort for him.
Again Aggie had recourse to the 'phone.
"Hello," she called to the office boy, "tell that woman to go around to the back door, and we'll send something down to her." There was a slight pause, then Aggie added sweetly, "Yes, tell her to wait at the foot of the fire-escape."
Zoie had already caught the drift of Aggie's intention and she now fixed her glittering eyes upon Jimmy, who was already shifting about uneasily and glancing at Aggie, who approached him with a business-like air.
"Now, dear," said Aggie, "come with me. I'll hand Baby out through the bathroom window and you can run right down the fire-escape with him."
"If I do run down the fire-escape," exclaimed Jimmy, wagging his large head from side to side, "I'll keep right on RUNNING. That's the last you'll ever see of me."
"But, Jimmy," protested Aggie, slightly hurt by his threat, "once that woman gets her baby you'll have no more trouble."
"With you two still alive?" asked Jimmy, looking from one to the other.
"She'll be up here if you don't hurry," urged Aggie impatiently, and with that she pulled Jimmy toward the bedroom door.
"Let her come," said Jimmy, planting his feet so as to resist Aggie's repeated tugs, "I'm going to South America."
"Why will you act like this," cried Aggie, in utter desperation, "when we have so little time?"
"Say," said Jimmy irrelevantly, "do you know that I haven't had any——"
"Yes," interrupted Aggie and Zoie in chorus, "we know."
"How long," continued Zoie impatiently, "is it going to take you to slip down that fire-escape?"
"That depends on how fast I 'slip,'" answered Jimmy doggedly.
"You'll 'slip' all right," sneered Zoie.
Further exchange of pleasantries between these two antagonists was cut short by the banging of the outside door.
"Good Heavens!" exclaimed Aggie, glancing nervously over her shoulder, "there's Alfred now. Hurry, Jimmy, hurry," she cried, and with that she fairly forced Jimmy out through the bedroom door, and followed in his wake to see him safely down the fire-escape.
Zoie had barely time to arrange herself after the manner of an interesting invalid, when Alfred entered the room in the gayest of spirits.
"Hello, dearie," he cried as he crossed quickly to her side.
"Already?" asked Zoie faintly and she glanced uneasily toward the door, through which Jimmy and Aggie had just disappeared.
"I told you I shouldn't be long," said Alfred jovially, and he implanted a condescending kiss on her forehead. "How is the little mother, eh?" he asked, rubbing his hands together in satisfaction.
"You're all cold," pouted Zoie, edging away, "and you've been drinking."
"I had to have one or two with the boys," said Alfred, throwing out his chest and strutting about the room, "but never again. From now on I cut out all drinks and cigars. This is where I begin to live my life for our sons."
"How about your life for me?" asked Zoie, as she began to see long years of boredom stretching before her.
"You and our boys are one and the same, dear," answered Alfred, coming back to her side.
"You mean you couldn't go on loving ME if it weren't for the BOYS?" asked Zoie, with anxiety. She was beginning to realise how completely her hold upon him depended upon her hideous deception.
"Of course I could, Zoie," answered Alfred, flattered by what he considered her desire for his complete devotion, "but——"
"But not so MUCH," pouted Zoie.
"Well, of course, dear," admitted Alfred evasively, as he sank down upon the edge of the bed by her side—
"You needn't say another word," interrupted Zoie, and then with a shade of genuine repentance, she declared shame-facedly that she hadn't been "much of a wife" to Alfred.
"Nonsense!" contradicted the proud young father, "you've given me the ONE thing that I wanted most in the world."
"But you see, dear," said Zoie, as she wound her little white arms about his neck, and looked up into his face adoringly, "YOU'VE been the 'ONE' thing that I wanted 'MOST' and I never realised until to-night how—how crazy you are about things."
"What things?" asked Alfred, a bit puzzled.
"Well," said Zoie, letting her eyes fall before his and picking at a bit of imaginary lint on the coverlet, "babies and things."
"Oh," said Alfred, and he was about to proceed when she again interrupted him.
"But now that I DO realise it," continued Zoie, earnestly, her fingers on his lips, lest he again interrupt, "if you'll only have a little patience with me, I'll—I'll——" again her eyes fell bashfully to the coverlet, as she considered the possibility of being ultimately obliged to replace the bogus twins with real ones.
"All the patience in the world," answered Alfred, little dreaming of the problem that confronted the contrite Zoie.
"That's all I ask," declared Zoie, her assurance completely restored, "and in case anything SHOULD happen to THESE——" she glanced anxiously toward the door through which Aggie had borne the twins.
"But nothing is going to happen to these, dear," interrupted Alfred, rising and again assuming an air of fatherly protection. "I'll attend to that. There, there," he added, patting her small shoulder and nodding his head wisely. "That crazy woman has got on your nerves, but you needn't worry, I've got everything fixed. Donneghey sent a special officer over with me. He's outside watching the house, now."
"Now!" shrieked Zoie, fixing her eyes on the bedroom door, through which Jimmy had lately disappeared and wondering whether he had yet "slipped" down the fire-escape.
"Yes," continued Alfred, walking up and down the floor with a masterly stride. "If that woman is caught hanging around here again, she'll get a little surprise. My boys are safe now, God bless them!" Then reminded of the fact that he had not seen them since his return, he started quickly toward the bedroom door. "I'll just have a look at the little rascals," he decided.
"No, dear," cried Zoie. She caught Alfred's arm as he passed the side of her bed, and clung to him in desperation. "Wait a minute."
Alfred looked down at her in surprise.
She turned her face toward the door, and called lustily, "Aggie! Aggie!"
"What is it, dear?" questioned Alfred, thinking Zoie suddenly ill, "can I get you something?"
Before Zoie was obliged to reply, Aggie answered her summons.
"Did you call?" she asked, glancing inquiringly into Zoie's distressed face.
"Alfred's here," said Zoie, with a sickly smile as she stroked his hand and glanced meaningly at Aggie. "He's GOT the OFFICER!"
"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.