Joe sat as his dying wife's bedside.
	Her voice was little more than a whisper.
	"Joe, darling," she breathed, "I've got a confession to make
before I go.  I ... I'm the one who took the $10,000 from your safe...
I spent it on a fling with your best friend, Charles.  And it was I who
forced your mistress to leave the city.  And I am the one who reported
your income-tax evasion to the I.R.S..."
	"That's all right, dearest, don't give it a second thought,"
whispered Joe. "I'm the one who poisoned you."