Odd Numbers

  CHAPTER XII

  MRS. TRUCKLES' BROAD JUMP

  And do you imagine Kitty Marston settles down to a life job after that?Not her. At the very next pay day she hands in her two weeks' notice, andwhen they pin her right down to facts she admits weepy that she means tostart out lookin' for Egbert. Now wouldn't that crust you?

  Course, the sequel to that is another governess hunt which winds up withMadame Roulaire. And say, talk about your queer cases----But you might aswell have the details.

  You see, until Aunt Martha arrived on the scene this Madame Roulairebusiness was only a fam'ly joke over to Pinckney's, with all of us in onit more or less. But Aunt Martha ain't been there more'n three or fourdays before she's dug up mystery and scandal and tragedy enough foranother one of them French dope dramas.

  "In my opinion," says she, "that woman is hiding some dreadful secret!"

  But Mrs. Pinckney only smiles in that calm, placid way of hers. You knowhow easy she took things when she was Miss Geraldine and Pinckney foundher on the steamer in charge of the twins that had been willed to him?Well, she ain't changed a bit; and, with Pinckney such a brilliant memberof the Don't Worry Fraternity, whatever frettin' goes on in that househas to be done by volunteers.

  Aunt Martha acts like she was wise to this; for she starts right in tomake up for lost opportunities, and when she spots this freaky lookin'governess she immediately begins scoutin' for trouble. Suspicions? Shedelivers a fresh lot after every meal!

  "Humph!" says she. "Madame Roulaire, indeed! Well, I must say, she looksas little like a Frenchwoman as any person I ever saw! How long have youhad her, Geraldine? What, only two months? Did she bring writtenreferences, and did you investigate them carefully?"

  She wouldn't let up, either, until she'd been assured that MadameRoulaire had come from service in an English fam'ly, and that they'dwritten on crested notepaper indorsin' her in every point, giving herwhole hist'ry from childhood up.

  "But she hasn't the slightest French accent," insists Aunt Martha.

  "I know," says Mrs. Pinckney. "She lived in England from the time she wassixteen, and of course twenty years away from one's----"

  "Does she claim to be only thirty-six?" exclaims Aunt Martha. "Why, she'sfifty if she's a day! Besides, I don't like that snaky way she has ofwatching everyone."

  There was no denyin', either, that this Roulaire party did have a pair ofshifty eyes in her head. I'd noticed that much myself in the few timesI'd seen her. They wa'n't any particular color you could name,--sort of agreeny gray-blue,--but they sure was bright and restless. You'd neverhear a sound out of her, for she didn't let go of any remarks that wa'n'tdragged from her; but somehow you felt, from the minute you got into theroom until she'd made a gumshoe exit by the nearest door, that themsleuthy lamps never quite lost sight of you.

  That and her smile was the main points about her. I've seen a lot ofdiff'rent kinds of smiles, meanin' and unmeanin'; but this chronichalf-smirk of Madame Roulaire's was about the most unconvincin'performance I've ever watched. Why, even a blind man could tell shedidn't really mean it! Outside of that, she was just a plain, pie facedsort of female with shrinkin', apologizin' ways and a set of store teeththat didn't fit any too well; but she wa'n't one that you'd suspect ofanything more tragic than eatin' maraschino cherries on the sly, orswappin' household gossip with the cook.

  That wa'n't the way Martha had her sized up, though, and of course therewas no keepin' her inquisitive nose out of the case. First thing anyoneknew, she'd backed Madame Roulaire into a corner, put her through thethird degree, and come trottin' back in triumph to Mrs. Pinckney.

  "Didn't I tell you?" says she. "French! Bosh! Perhaps you haven't askedher about Auberge-sur-Mer, where she says she was born?"

  Greraldine admits that she ain't done much pumpin'.

  "Well, I have," says Aunt Martha, "and she couldn't tell me a thing aboutthe place that was so. I spent ten days there only two years ago, andremember it perfectly. She isn't any more French than I am."

  "Oh, what of it?" says Mrs. Pinckney. "She gets along splendidly with thetwins. They think the world of her."

  "But she's thoroughly deceitful," Aunt Martha comes back. "Shemisrepresents her age, lies about her birthplace, and--and she wears atransformation wig."

  "Yes, I had noticed the brown wig," admits Mrs. Pinckney; "but they'requite common."

  "So are women poisoners," snaps Martha. "Think of what happened to theBriggses, after they took in that strange maid! Then there was the MadameCatossi case, over in Florence last year. They were warned about her, youremember."

  And maybe you know how a good lively suspecter can get results when shekeeps followin' it up. They got to watchin' the governess close when shewas around, and noticin' all the little slips in her talk and thecrab-like motions she made in dodgin' strangers. That appears to make herworse than ever, too. She'd get fussed every time anyone looked her way,and just some little question about the children would make her jump andcolor up like she'd been accused of burnin' a barn. Even Sadie, who'dbeen standin' up for her right along, begins to weaken.

  "After all," says she, "I'm not sure there isn't something queer aboutthat woman."

  "Ah, all governesses are queer, ain't they?" says I; "but that ain't anysign they've done time or are in the habit of dosin' the coffeepot witharsenic. It's Aunt Martha has stirred all this mess up, and she'd makethe angel Gabriel prove who he was by blowin' bugle calls."

  It was only next day, though, that we gets a report of what happens whenPinckney runs across this Sir Carpenter-Podmore at the club and lugs himout to dinner. He's an English gent Pinckney had known abroad. Comin' inunexpected that way, him and Madame Roulaire had met face to face in thehall, while the introductions was bein' passed out--and what does she dobut turn putty colored and shake like she was havin' a fit!

  "Ah, Truckles?" says Podmore, sort of cordial.

  "No, no!" she gasps. "Roulaire! I am Madame Roulaire!"

  "Beg pardon, I'm sure," says Sir Carpenter, liftin' his eyebrows andpassin' on.

  That was all there was to it; but everyone in the house heard about it.Course Aunt Martha jumps right in with the question marks; but all shegets out of Podmore is that he presumes he was mistaken.

  "Well, maybe he was," says I. "Why not?"

  "Then you haven't heard," says Sadie, "that Sir Carpenter was for a longtime a Judge on the criminal bench."

  "Z-z-z-zing!" says I. "Looks kind of squally for the governess, don'tit?"

  If it hadn't been for Pinckney, too, Aunt Martha'd had her thrown outthat night; but he wouldn't have it that way.

  "I've never been murdered in my bed, or been fed on ground glass," sayshe, "and--who knows?--I might like the sensation."

  Say, there's more sides to that Pinckney than there are to a cutglasspaperweight. You might think, with him such a Reggie chap, that havin' asuspicious character like that around would get on his nerves; but, whenit comes to applyin' the real color test, there ain't any more yellow inhim than in a ball of bluin', and he can be as curious about certainthings as a kid investigatin' the animal cages.

  Rather than tie the can to Madame Roulaire without gettin' a straightline on her, he was willin' to run chances. And it don't make anydifference to him how much Aunt Martha croaks about this and that, andsuggests how dreadful it is to think of those dear, innocent littlechildren exposed to such evil influences. That last item appeals strongto Mrs. Pinckney and Sadie, though.

  "Of course," says Geraldine, "the twins don't suspect a thing as yet, andwhatever we discover must be kept from them."

  "Certainly," says Sadie, "the poor little dears mustn't know."

  So part of the programme was to keep them out of her way as much aspossible without actually callin' her to the bench, and that's whatfetched me out there early the other afternoon. It was my turn atprotectin' innocent childhood. I must say, though, it's hard realizin'they need anything of that sort when you're within reach of that Jack andJill combination. Most peop
le seem to feel the other way; but, whiletheir society is apt to be more or less strenuous, I can gen'rally standan hour or so of it without collectin' any broken bones.

  As usual, they receives me with an ear splittin' whoop, and while Jillgives me the low tackle around the knees Jack proceeds to climb up myback and twine his arms affectionate around my neck.

  "Hey, Uncle Shorty," they yells in chorus, "come play Wild West withus!"

  "G'wan, you young terrors!" says I, luggin' 'em out on the lawn anddumpin' 'em on the grass. "Think I'd risk my neck at any such game asthat? Hi! leggo that necktie or I'll put on the spanks! Say, ain't yougot any respect for company clothes? Now straighten up quiet and tell meabout the latest deviltry you've been up to."

  "Pooh!" says Jill. "We're not afraid of you."

  "And we know why you're here to-day, too," says Jack.

  "Do you?" says I. "Well, let's have it."

  "You're on guard," says Jill, "keeping us away from old Clicky."

  "Old Clicky?" says I.

  "Uh-huh," says Jack. "The goosy governess, you know."

  "Eh?" says I, openin' my eyes.

  "We call her that," says Jill, "because her teeth click so when she getsexcited. At night she keeps 'em in a glass of water. Do you suppose theyclick then?"

  "Her hair comes off too," says Jack, "and it's all gray underneath. Wefished it off once, and she was awful mad."

  "You just ought to hear her when she gets mad," says Jill. "She drops herH's."

  "She don't do it before folks, though," says Jack, "'cause she makesbelieve she's French. She's awful good to us, though, and we love herjust heaps."

  "You've got queer ways of showin' it," says I.

  "What makes Aunt Martha so scared of her?" says Jill. "Do you think it'sso she would really and truly murder us all and run off with the jewelry,or that she'd let in burglars after dark? She meets someone everyThursday night by the side gate, you know."

  "A tall woman with veils over her face," adds Jack. "We hid in the bushesand watched 'em."

  "Say, for the love of Mike," says I, "is there anything about yourgoverness you kids haven't heard or seen? What more do you know?"

  "Lots," says Jill. "She's scared of Marie, the new maid. Marie makes herhelp with the dishes, and make up her own bed, and wait on herself allthe time."

  "And she has to study beforehand all the lessons she makes us learn,"says Jack. "She studies like fun every night in her room, and when we askquestions from the back of the book she don't know the answers."

  "She's been too scared to study or anything, ever since Monday," saysJill. "Do you think they'll have a policeman take her away before shepoisons us all? We heard Aunt Martha say they ought to."

  Say, they had the whole story, and more too. If there was anything aboutMadame Roulaire's actions, her past hist'ry, or what people thought ofher that had got by these two, I'd like to know what it was.

  "Gee!" says I. "Talk about protectin' you! What you need most is a pairof gags and some blinders. Now trot along off and do your worst, while Ilook up Pinckney and give him some advice."

  I was strollin' through the house lookin' for him, and I'd got as far asthe lib'ry, when who should I see but Madame Roulaire comin' through theopposite door. Someway, I didn't feel like meetin' them sleuthy eyes justthen, or seein' that smirky smile; so I dodges back and pikes down thehall. She must have had the same thought; for we almost collides head onhalfway down, and the next thing I know she's dropped onto a davenport,sobbin' and shakin' all over.

  "Excuse me for mentionin' it," says I; "but there ain't any call forhysterics."

  "Oh, I know who you are now," says she. "You--you're a privatedetective!"

  "Eh?" says I. "How'd you get onto my disguise?"

  "I knew it from the first," says she. "And then, when I saw you with thechildren, asking them about me----Oh, you won't arrest me and take meaway from the darlings, will you? Please don't take me to jail! I'll tellyou everything, truly I will, sir!"

  "That might help some," says I; "but, if you're goin' to 'fess up,suppose you begin at Chapter I. Was it the fam'ly jewels you was after?"

  "No, no!" says she. "I never took a penny's worth in my life. Trucklescould tell you that if he could only be here."

  "Truckles, eh!" says I. "Now just who was----"

  "My 'usband, sir," says she. "And I'm Mrs. Truckles."

  "Oh-ho!" says I. "Then this Roulaire name you've been flaggin' under wassort of a _nom de plume_?"

  "It was for Katy I did it!" she sobs.

  "Oh, yes," says I. "Well, what about Katy?"

  And, say, that was the way it come out; first, a bit here and then a bitthere, with me puttin' the ends together and patchin' this soggy everydayyarn out of what we'd all thought was such a deep, dark mystery.

  She was English, Mrs. Truckles was, and so was the late Truckles. They'dworked together, him bein' a first class butler whose only fault was hecouldn't keep his fingers off the decanters. It was after he'd struck thebottom of the toboggan slide and that thirst of his had finished him forgood and all that Mrs. Truckles collects her little Katy from wherethey'd boarded her out and comes across to try her luck on this side.

  She'd worked up as far as housekeeper, and had made enough to educateKaty real well and marry her off to a bright young gent by the name ofMcGowan that owned a half interest in a corner saloon up in the Bronx andstood well with the district leader.

  She was happy and contented in them days, Mrs. Truckles was, with McGowandoin' a rushin' business, gettin' his name on the Tammany ticket, andKaty patronizing a swell dressmaker and havin' a maid of her own. Then,all of a sudden, Mrs. Truckles tumbles to the fact that Katy is gettin'ashamed of havin' a mother that's out to service and eatin' with thechauffeur and the cook. Not that she wants her livin' with them,--McGowanwouldn't stand for that,--but Katy did think Mother might do somethingfor a living that wouldn't blur up the fam'ly escutcheon quite so much.

  It was just when Mrs. Truckles was feelin' this most keen that the Frenchgoverness where she was got married and went West to live, leavin' behindher, besides a collection of old hats, worn out shoes, and faded picturepostals, this swell reference from Lady Jigwater. And havin' put in ayear or so in France with dif'rent families that had taken her across,and havin' had to pick up more or less of the language, Mrs. Trucklesconceives the great scheme of promotin' herself from the back to thefront of the house. So she chucks up as workin' housekeeper, splurges onthe wig, and strikes a swell intelligence office with this phonyreference.

  Course, with anybody else but an easy mark like Mrs. Pinckney, maybe shewouldn't have got away with it; but all Geraldine does is glance at thepaper, ask her if she likes children, and put her on the payroll.

  "Well?" says I. "And it got you some worried tryin' to make good, eh?"

  "I was near crazy over it," says she. "I thought I could do it at first;but it came cruel 'ard. Oh, sir, the lies I've 'ad to tell, keepin' itup. And with the rest of the 'elp all 'ating me! Marie used me worst ofall, though. She made me tell 'er everything, and 'eld it over my 'ead.Next that Aunt Martha came and thought up so many bad things aboutme--you know."

  "Sure," says I; "but how about this Sir Podmore?"

  "I was 'ead laundress at Podmore 'Ouse," says she, "and I thought it wasall up when he saw me here. I never should have tried to do it. I'm agood 'ousekeeper, if I do say it; but I'm getting to be an old woman now,and this will end me. It was for Katy I did it, though. Every week sheused to come and throw it in my face that she couldn't call at the frontdoor and--and----Well, I 'opes you'll believe me, sir; but that was justthe way of it, and if I'm taken to jail it will kill Katy and----"

  "Aha!" breaks in a voice behind us. "Here, Pinckney! Come, Geraldine!This way everybody!" and as I turns around there's Aunt Martha with theaccusin' finger out and her face fairly beamin'. Before I can get in aword she's assembled the fam'ly.

  "What did I tell you?" she cackles. "She's broken down and confessed! Iheard her!"

/>   "Is it true, Shorty?" demands Mrs. Pinckney. "Does she admit that she wasplotting to----"

  "Yep!" says I. "It's something awful too, almost enough to curdle yourblood."

  "Go on," says Aunt Martha. "Tell us the worst. What is it?"

  "It's a case of standin' broad jump," says I, "from housekeeper togoverness, with an age handicap and a crooked entry."

  Course, I has to work out the details for 'em, and when I've stated thewhole hideous plot, from the passing of Truckles the Thirsty to the highpride of Katy the Barkeep's Bride, includin' the tale of the stolencharacter and chuckin' the nervy bluff--well, they didn't any of 'em knowwhat to say. They just stands around gawpin' curious at this sobbin',wabbly kneed old party slumped down there on the hall seat.

  Aunt Martha, actin' as prosecutor for the State, is the first to recover."Well, there's no knowin' how far she might have gone," says she. "Andshe ought to be punished some way. Pinckney, what are you going to dowith her?"

  For a minute he looks from Aunt Martha to the object in the middle of thecircle, and then he drops them black eyelashes lazy, like he washalf-asleep, and I knew somethin' was coming worth listenin' to.

  "Considering all the circumstances," says Pinckney, "I think we shalldischarge Marie, increase Mrs. Truckles' salary, give her an assistant,and ask her to stay with us permanently. Eh, Geraldine?"

  And Geraldine nods hearty.

  "Pinckney, let's shake on that," says I. "Even if your head is full ofsoap bubbles, you've got an eighteen-carat heart in you. Hear the news,Mrs. Truckles?"

  "Then--then I'm not to go to jail?" says she, takin' her hands off herface and lookin' up straight and steady for the first time in months.

  "Jail nothin'!" says I. "There's goin' to be a new deal, and you start infresh with a clean slate."

  "Humph!" snorts Aunt Martha. "Do you expect me to stay here andcountenance any such folly?"

  "I'm far too considerate of my relatives for that," says Pinckney."There's a train at five-thirty-six."

  And, say, to see Mrs. Truckles now, with her gray hair showin' natural,and her chin up, and a twin hangin' to either hand, and the sleuthy lookgone out of them old eyes, you'd hardly know her for the same party!

  These antelope leaps is all right sometimes; but when you take 'em youwant to be wearin' your own shoes.