"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 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'd worked together, him bein' a first class butler whose only fault was he couldn't keep his fingers off the decanters. It was after he'd struck the bottom of the toboggan slide and that thirst of his had finished him for good and all that Mrs. Truckles collects her little Katy from where they'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 educate Katy real well and marry her off to a bright young gent by the name of McGowan that owned a half interest in a corner saloon up in the Bronx and stood well with the district leader.