William McGivern - The William P. McGivern Fantasy MEGAPACK™ - 25 Classic Fantasy Stories from the Pulps

“That’s fine,” Oscar said. “Could you show us your bedroom now? We’d like to get to sleep.”

“But it’s only eight o’clock,” Miss Brown said, looking at him in astonishment.

“I know,” Oscar said, “but we’ve had a long day. And we need our rest if we’re going to help Oscar.”

“Come with me then,” Miss Brown said.

She led them into her bedroom, which was prettily furnished in pink and blue. There was one single bed.

“One of you will have to sleep on the floor,” she said.

“That will be fine,” Oscar said, shoving her gently toward the door. “Good night.”

“Good night,” Miss Brown said dubiously. She closed the door and left them alone.

“What was the reason for this?” Oscar the Second said. “And where’s the money?”

“We need a place to stay, don’t we?” Oscar said. “The money,” he lowered his voice and glanced over his shoulder at the closed door, “is under the bed.”

“Under the bed?”

Oscar nodded impressively.

“You get it and I’ll keep a watch for the girl.”

Oscar the Second smiled enthusiastically and dropped to his knees.

“This is wonderful,” he said, sticking a hand under the bed.

“It’s going to be,” Oscar said.

“I don’t feel a thing,” Oscar the Second said plaintively.

“Don’t worry, you will,” Oscar said. He gazed tenderly at his fist and swung mightily...

Five minutes later, he opened the door and walked quickly into the living room. He had removed his wig, glasses and hat.

“Oscar!” Betty cried. She scrambled from her chair with a flash of silken legs and ran to his side.

“Betty,” Oscar murmured, taking her in his arms awkwardly.

“How did you get out of jail?” Betty asked wonderingly. “And who are those two men in the bedroom?”

“Sit down, my dear,” Oscar said, “and I’ll tell you everything.”

When he finished his story Betty’s eyes were shining.

“I think you’re just wonderful,” she murmured. Her face suddenly sobered. “But how about the other man in the bedroom? The other twin you’ve been talking about?”

“I bound him securely with the cord from your bathrobe and locked him in the closet,” Oscar said. “He’s on tap until we need him. Now we’ve got to find the one who absconded with the money and then locate Madame Obary. It’s a big job and I haven’t the faintest idea where to start.”

Betty chewed vigorously on her lower lip.

“I think I can find Madame Obary,” she said. “Agatha would know, wouldn’t she?”

Oscar slapped his thigh.

“Of course she would. I hadn’t thought of that. You’re wonderful, Betty.”

“I’ll get her address from Agatha and go to her, tell her you’ve got to see her and bring her back here tonight,” Betty said. “Will that be all right?”

“That much is all right,” Oscar said, “But we still are missing one of the twins. And he happens to be the most important one of the bunch because he has the money.” He shook his head gloomily. “He’s probably a thousand miles from here now.”

“Maybe not,” she said. “Remember he’s a stranger here. He wouldn’t know where to go.”

“By gosh, you might be right,” Oscar said. “But where can I go to look for him?”

“How about your apartment?” Betty asked. “That’s the only place he knew in the city other than Agatha’s. And he certainly wouldn’t go back there.”

“But the police are watching my apartment,” Oscar protested. “I’d be picked up if I went there.”

“Maybe the police have gone. Remember the police think Oscar Doodle is in jail. Possibly they’ve relaxed their watch.”

“It’s worth a chance,” Oscar said, with sudden determination. “I’ll get started immediately.”

“And so will I,” said Betty. “If everything works out all right we’ll be back together, all our problems solved in a few hours.”

“That’s right,” Oscar said brightly, then his cheer faded and he added gloomily, “if everything works out all right.”

He reached his apartment a half-hour later. To his intense relief the police had gone. They had torn the place upside down, looking for the missing money, but the disrupted apartment was like a glimpse of Heaven to Oscar.

The place was completely empty. He checked through the four small rooms, even looking under the bed, but he found no one.

His thoughts were churning helplessly as he sat down in his easy chair and tried to figure out what to do next. He couldn’t just start looking for his pilfering twin. That would be like trying to find the proverbial needle in the haystack. The man might be anywhere, and in spite of Betty’s optimism, he still felt that the fellow had left the city and was miles away by this time.

His nerves suddenly jumped as he heard the sound of a key in the door.

He was sitting in the dark and when the door swung open an oblong of light fell across the carpet from the corridor and two figures were silhouetted in the doorway.

One figure was small; the other medium-sized. And the smaller figure had his arm about the other and was half-carrying, half-dragging him into the apartment.

Oscar stepped to the wall and snapped on the light switch. In the sudden glare Chico, his brown-faced, smiling house boy, stood blinking uncomprehendingly at him.

“Chico!” Oscar said sharply.

Chico looked at him in foggy bewilderment, then he lifted the head of the man he was carrying and peered into his features. He stared a long time before he let the head fall soddenly against the man’s chest.

Oscar’s pulses were hammering with excitement! The man with Chico, obviously drunk as a lord, was the third and missing twin, the absconder.

“Who you?” Chico asked abruptly of Oscar, but his voice lacked conviction.

“Chico,” Oscar said sternly. “I am Oscar Doodle, your employer. Where have you been?”

“Hah?” Chico said stupidly. His ever-ready smile had deserted him. He glanced uneasily at the drunken man he was supporting. “Him Doodly,” he said plaintively.

“No,” Oscar said with gentle firmness, “I am Oscar Doodle. That drunken bum is an impostor.”

“Impstoter?” Chico struggled with the unfamiliar word. He shook his brown head anxiously. He was obviously working desperately to make sense out of the situation. He glanced down again at the man he was supporting. “Him not Doodly?”

“That’s right,” Oscar said. “He is not Oscar Doodle. I am Oscar Doodle.”

“Oh,” Chico said and there was relief in his voice. “You Oscar Doodle.”

His smile returned to his face and his black eyes were cheerfully relieved. He dropped the man he was supporting to the floor and nodded to Oscar. “You want warm milk now?”

“No, not now,” Oscar said. “I want you to tell me how you met this fellow.”

Chico frowned and collected his thoughts.

“I come back here,” he said, “find police gone. You in jail.”

He smiled to show that he had a tolerant view of Oscar’s incarceration. “I start to clean up apartment. Then,” he pointed to the sodden figure on the floor, “he come. He drunk. I think him you. He want to go out, get drunk some more. I go along, bring him back when get much drunk. That’s all.”

“Now think carefully, Chico,” Oscar said, “when he came here did he have anything with him? A package or a grip of any sort?”

Chico nodded brightly. He opened the door of the hall closet and lifted out a small black leather bag.

“This,” he said proudly.

Oscar took the bag with hands that were suddenly trembling and opened it. Inside lay a half-dozen stacks of crisp green currency. He counted the money rapidly. Thirty-nine thousand, five-hundred and fifty dollars. The loot was intact except for four-hundred and fifty dollars his pilfering ancestor had squandered during his drunken debauch.