“All right,” said Jenny. “But don’t forget I got me finger on ya. You can’t get away wit’ that stuff on me.”

Babe jammed down the receiver.

Jenny flew out of the telephone booth in a rage. She was literally shaking with anger.

“I’ll spoil her racket,” she murmured. She was all in a lather. Perspiration stood out in cold beads on her forehead. She went into a convenient hallway and had a sniff.

Her mind made viciously clear, for the time being, by the drug she had taken, Jenny began to formulate a plan of revenge upon Babe, who was the object of all Jenny’s concentrated hate.

She would tell the story of Babe’s life to ears that would be deeply interested. She would tell Baldwin. Show him what a tart he had set up as a queen. But no—that wouldn’t do. He was too gone on Babe to believe her. There would be no use in going to him. After Babe once got a man physically he’d forget everything and forgive everything.

Jenny had a new thought. Her pallid lips twisted in a horrible grin. She’d show her! She’d go to his folks and spill the dirt so they’d make Baldwin kick Babe out. Jenny sought a telephone directory. She found the W. W. Baldwin Stores, Inc., and its list of local branches. Then under that, Baldwin, W. W., residence, and number. She made note of the street address, closed the book and started off. Now, she thought, she’d knock Babe’s luck for a loop.

Jenny found her way to the Baldwin residence, and pressed the bell. She looked, in her shabby clothes and cheap hat with a drab feather, like a wet, half-strangled hen.

Greaves, the butler who opened the door, was about to tell her that the tradesmen’s entrance was around the back, when Jenny blurted out:

“I’ve got somethin’ very important to say about young Mr. Baldwin. Is they any of his family at home?”

“Step inside, Miss,” Greaves said. He did not want anyone to see him conversing with this strange specimen.

Jenny passed into the entrance hall. Greaves looked at her as though she were a lump of mud that had been brought in on someone’s shoes.

“Wait here,” he told Jenny, as he went to announce this strange visitor.

Greaves found Alice Baldwin in the library.

Alice had the chaste appearance of the born Puritan. Her straight-lacedness she inherited from her mother who died when Wayne was a small boy. She knew her father to be one of those free spirits who take their pleasure where they find it. And she feared that Wayne was very much like him.

She had heard persistent rumors of Wayne’s affair with some beautiful blonde woman, who Alice suspected was a creature of the theater, perhaps a chorus girl.

She looked up from her book, as Greaves entered.