They went on their way, leaving Jerry to a fine, old-fashioned, male rage. Here was a pretty how-de-do, where his own wife cavalierly dismissed him to go off with her lover. There was no shadow of doubt in his mind that Christiansen was in love with Jane, although, in spite of all the evidence, he could not reconcile it to himself that Jane was in love with Christiansen. But the tenement house, the rendezvous; what did it all mean? Then he went back home and ascended to the nursery.
"Has Mrs. Paxton a key to your apartment, Mrs. Biggs?" he inquired casually.
"Yes, sir. She has to have it to get into her room there. We keep it under the mat."
"Her room?"
"Yes, sir. Didn't you know she kept her old room with me? Oh, mebbe I shouldn't ha' told ye, sir."
"Oh—I suppose she must have told me; I've just forgotten it. Do her friends go there? She's never asked me."
"Oh, no, sir; nobody comes there. A gentleman used to come, but that was before her marriage."
"Big man, gray-black hair?"
"Yes, sir, that's him."
"Baby been asleep all morning?" he forced himself to ask, casually, as if the other conversation was purely incidental.