"Why, just this," says he. "Mr. Marston, you know, is secretary of the
Consolidated Holding Company."

"Yes, I read about that," says I. "What then?"

"It pains me to state," says Mr. Gordon, "that in his capacity of
secretary Mr. Marston seems to have sanctioned transactions which violate
the Interstate Commerce act."

"Ah-ha!" says I. "Turned crooked on you, did he?"

"We are not sure as yet," says Pyramid. "The federal authorities are
anxious to settle that point by examining certain files which appear to
be missing. They even asked me about them. Perhaps you didn't notice,
Shorty, that I was cross-examined for five hours, one day last week."

"I don't read them muck rakin' articles," says I.

"Quite right," says Pyramid. "Well, I couldn't explain; for, as their own
enterprising detectives discovered, when Mr. Marston boarded the Montreal
Express his baggage included a trunk and two large cases. Odd of him to
take shipping files on a hunting trip, wasn't it?" and Pyramid tips me
the slow wink.

I'm more or less of a thickhead when it comes to flossy finance; but I've
seen enough plain flimflam games to know a few things. And the wink
clinched it. "Mr. Gordon," says I, "for a Mr. Smooth you've got a greased
pig in the warthog class. But suppose Egbert gets sick of the woods and
hikes himself back? What then?"

"Jail," says Pyramid, shruggin' his sable collar up around his ears.
"That would be rather deplorable too. Bright young man, Marston, in many
ways, and peculiarly adapted for----"

"Yes, I know the part," says I. "They gen'rally spells it g-o-a-t."

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, and
when they pin her right down to facts she admits weepy that she means to
start out lookin' for Egbert. Now wouldn't that crust you?

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

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

"In my opinion," says she, "that woman i