Jumping Jenny Read Free Page B

bit better,” his sister contradicted.
    “It’s worse,” opined Miss Le Neve.
    “It’s rotten,” Dr. Crippen supported her. “Where is it?”
    “Königswusterhausen,” replied Ronald blandly, and with a wink at Roger walked quickly away.
    Before the latter could follow him a question from Celia Stratton took his opportunity away. Did he know Mr. and Mrs. Williamson? Roger had to admit that he did not know Mr. and Mrs. Williamson. Dr. Crippen and Miss Le Neve were made acquainted with him under that title. Roger politely expressed admiration of their disguises.
    “Osbert only had to put on a pair of gold-rimmed glasses,” volunteered Mrs. Williamson. “He’s just like Crippen, isn’t he, Mr. Sheringham?”
    “How unsafe you must feel, Lilian,” said Celia Stratton.
    “Can you wonder I want to leave the studio and get a place with a few more rooms? If the fit came on him there, I could never get away in time.”
    “You know perfectly well, Lilian,” remonstrated her husband, “that you only wanted me to be Crippen so that you could be Miss Le Neve. Lilian never loses a chance of getting into trousers,” explained Mr. Williamson with candour to the group in general.
    “Why shouldn’t I get into trousers if I want to?” demanded Mrs. Williamson, and sniffed.
    “I hope you’ve got them fastened with a safety-pin at the back,” said Roger fatuously.
    Everyone looked at him inquiringly, and he wished he had not spoken.
    “Miss Le Neve’s trousers were too large for her,” he had to explain, “and she took a tuck in them at the back with a safety-pin. The captain of the liner noticed it, and thought it rather odd.”
    “Lilian’s certainly aren’t too large for her,” said Mr. Williamson, with a rude, husbandly laugh, “though they may be quite as odd. Eh, Lilian? What?”
    “I like my trousers tight,” said Mrs. Williamson, and sniffed again.
    Roger, who was not so interested in these garments as the others appeared to be, turned the conversation with a jerk.
    “I haven’t met your sister-in-law yet, Miss Stratton,” he said, in a blandly conversational tone. “I wonder if you’d introduce me?”
    “David’s wife? Yes, of course. Where is she?”
    “She was at the bar a minute ago.”
    “She’s mad,” observed Mr. Williamson, with some interest.
    “Really, Osbert!” expostulated his wife, with a glance at Celia Stratton.
    “Oh, don’t mind me,” said Miss Stratton kindly.
    Roger could not let this promising opening pass. “Mad? Is she? I like mad people. What particular form does your sister-in-law’s madness take, Miss Stratton?”
    “Oh, I don’t know,” Celia Stratton said lightly. “She’s just generally mad, I expect, if Osbert says so.” Roger noticed that, in spite of the lightness of her tone, there was an undercurrent of caution in Miss Stratton’s voice. It was almost as if she had been glad to accept the idea of her sister-in-law’s madness, in order to hide something worse.
    “She wants to talk about her soul,” explained Osbert Williamson with some gloom.
    “Osbert isn’t interested in souls,” Mrs. Williamson explained. “Not having one of his own, he can’t very well be.”
    “I’m not interested in her soul,” pronounced Mr. Williamson. “But I’d keep an eye on her, Celia, if I were you. When I was with her she was swigging down double whiskies nineteen to the dozen and saying she wanted to get tight because it was the only thing worth while, or some nonsense.”
    “Oh, dear,” sighed Miss Stratton, “is she in that mood? Perhaps I’d better go and look after her then.”
    “Why does she want to get tight?” Mr. Williamson asked her as she moved away.
    “She thinks it clever. Mr. Sheringham, you’d better come with me if you want to meet her.”
    Roger went, with alacrity.

CHAPTER II
     
    NOT A NICE LADY
I
    It was Ronald Stratton’s custom to enliven his parties with charades. As he candidly explained, this was solely because he