elp the invalid indoors.

Neither good food nor good company seemed able to mitigate this sudden
seizure of despondency. He sat glooming over his plate and glass, the
burden of his conversation _yea, yea_ and _nay, nay_; nor was anything
of Ember's intermittent banter apparently able to educe the spirited
retorts ordinarily to be expected of him.

His host diagnosed his complaint from beneath shrewd eyebrows.

"Whitaker," he said at length, "a pessimist has been defined as a dog
that won't scratch."

"Well?" said the other sourly.

"Come on. Be a sport. Have a good scratch on me."

Whitaker grinned reluctantly and briefly.

"Where's my wife?" he demanded abruptly.

"How in blazes--!"

"There you are!" Whitaker complained. "You make great pretensions, and
yet you fall down flat on your foolish face three times in less than as
many hours. You don't know who the Fiskes are, you've lost track of your
pet myth, Drummond, and you don't know where I can find my wife. And yet
I'm expected to stand round with my mouth open, playing Dr. Watson to
your Sherlock Holmes. I could go to that telephone and consult
'Information' to better advantage!"

"What you need," retorted the other, unmoved, "is a clairvoyant, not a
detective. If you can't keep track of your trial marriages yourself...!"

He shrugged.

"Then you don't know--haven't the least idea where she is?"

"My dear man, I myself am beginning to doubt her existence."

"I don't see why the dickens she doesn't go ahead with those divorce
proceedings!" Whitaker remarked morosely.

"I've met few men so eager for full membership in the Alimony Club.
What's your hurry?"

"Oh, I don't know." Which was largely truth unveneered. "I'd like to get
it over and done with."

"You might advertise--offer a suitable reward for information concerning
the whereabouts of one docile and dormant divorce suit--"

"I might, but you'd never earn it."

"Doubtless. I've long since learned never to expect any reward
commensurate with my merits."

Ember pushed back his chair and, rising, strolled to the door. "Moonrise
and a fine, clear night," he said, staring through the wire mesh of the
screen. "Wish you were well enough to go riding with me. However, you
won't be laid up long, I fancy. And I'll be back day after to-morrow.
Now I must cut along."

And within ten minutes Whitaker heard the motor-car rumble off on the
woodland road.

He wasn't altogether sorry to be left to h