"What's happened?" he asked.
"Say nothing to anybody," was Zoie's noncommittal answer, "not
even to Aggie. Jump in a taxi and come as quickly as you can."
"But what IS it?" persisted Jimmy. The dull sound of the wire
told him that the person at the other end had "hung up."
Jimmy gazed about the room in perplexity. What was he to do? Why
on earth should he leave his letters unanswered and his mail
topsy turvy to rush forth in the shank of the morning at the
bidding of a young woman whom he abhorred. Ridiculous! He would
do no such thing. He lit a cigar and began to open a few letters
marked "private." For the life of him he could not understand
one word that he read. A worried look crossed his face.
"Suppose Zoie were really in need of help, Aggie would certainly
never forgive him if he failed her." He rose and walked up and
down.
"Why was he not to tell Aggie?"
"Where was Alfred?" He stopped abruptly. His over excited
imagination had suggested a horrible but no doubt accurate
answer. "Wedded to an abomination like Zoie, Alfred had sought
the only escape possible to a man of his honourable ideals--he
had committed suicide."
Seizing his coat and hat Jimmy dashed through the outer office
without instructing his astonished staff as to when he might
possibly return.
"Family troubles," said the secretary to himself as he
appropriated one of Jimmy's best cigars.
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