me."

"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 ask
questions from the back of the book she don't know the answers."

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

Say, they had the whole story, and more too. If there was anything about
Madame Roulaire's actions, her past hist'ry, or what people thought of
her 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 pair
of gags and some blinders. Now trot along off and do your worst, while I
look up Pinckney and give him some advice."

I was strollin' through the house lookin' for him, and I'd got as far as
the lib'ry, when who should I see but Madame Roulaire comin' through the
opposite door. Someway, I didn't feel like meetin' them sleuthy eyes just
then, or seein' that smirky smile; so I dodges back and pikes down the
hall. She must have had the same thought; for we almost collides head on
halfway 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 for
hysterics."

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

"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 the
children, asking them about me----Oh, you won't arrest me and take me
away from the darlings, will you? Please don't take me to jail! I'll tell
you 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. Truckles
could 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 was
sort 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 bit
there, with me puttin' the ends together and patchin' this soggy everyday
yarn out