The telephone that rested on the little stand a foot from Lucy Hodge's disheveled head tinkled insistently under the absurd French doll that covered it, and at last Lucy, blinking and yawning annoyedly in the morning sunlight drenching the room reached out a languid arm from her bed and answered.
She listened. In an instant she was wide awake—for Lucy. She questioned sharply. Finished, she thoughtfully rested the telephone upon its stand.
From the twin bed on the opposite side of the telephone table Jack Hodge was aroused to semi-consciousness.
"Jack," yawned Lucy, having recovered herself, "let this be a great lesson to you—never trust anybody. Carmelita and Dudley Drake were married ten minutes ago. That was Carmelita on the wire."
"No-o," doubted Jack stupidly. "She couldn't be such a fool."
"What I should have done, I suppose," mused Lucy to herself, ignoring him, "was to have gotten up at the unearthly hour and seen
