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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6833f05 --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,3 @@ +* text=auto +*.txt text +*.md text diff --git a/5261-h.zip b/5261-h.zip Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..8674974 --- /dev/null +++ b/5261-h.zip diff --git a/5261-h/5261-h.htm b/5261-h/5261-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..101895d --- /dev/null +++ b/5261-h/5261-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,13814 @@ +<!DOCTYPE HTML PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD HTML 4.01 Transitional//EN"> +<HTML> +<HEAD> + +<META HTTP-EQUIV="Content-Type" CONTENT="text/html; charset=iso-8859-1"> + +<TITLE> +The Project Gutenberg E-text of Constance Dunlap, by Arthur B. Reeve +</TITLE> + +<STYLE TYPE="text/css"> +BODY { color: Black; + background: White; + margin-right: 10%; + margin-left: 10%; + font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; + text-align: justify } + +P {text-indent: 4% } + +P.noindent {text-indent: 0% } + +P.poem {text-indent: 0%; + margin-left: 10%;} + +P.letter {text-indent: 0%; + margin-left: 10% ; + margin-right: 10% } + +P.footnote {font-size: 80%; + text-indent: 0% ; + margin-left: 0% ; + margin-right: 0% } + +P.transnote {text-indent: 0% ; + margin-left: 0% ; + margin-right: 0% } + +P.intro {font-size: 90% ; + text-indent: -5% ; + margin-left: 5% ; + margin-right: 0% } + +P.finis { font-size: larger ; + text-align: center ; + text-indent: 0% ; + margin-left: 0% ; + margin-right: 0% } + +</STYLE> + +</HEAD> + +<BODY> + + +<pre> + +The Project Gutenberg EBook of Constance Dunlap, by Arthur B. Reeve + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Constance Dunlap + +Author: Arthur B. Reeve + +Posting Date: March 3, 2010 [EBook #5261] +Release Date: March, 2004 +First Posted: June 19, 2002 +Last Updated: July 31, 2005 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK CONSTANCE DUNLAP *** + + + + +Produced by Charles Franks and the Online Distributed +Proofreading Team. HTML version by Al Haines. + + + + + + +</pre> + + +<BR><BR> + +<H4 ALIGN="center"> +THE CRAIG KENNEDY SERIES +</H4> + +<BR><BR> + +<H1 ALIGN="center"> +CONSTANCE DUNLAP +</H1> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +BY +</H3> + +<H2 ALIGN="center"> +ARTHUR B. REEVE +</H2> + +<BR> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +WITH FRONTISPIECE +</H3> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<H2 ALIGN="center"> +CONTENTS +</H2> + +<TABLE ALIGN="center" WIDTH="80%"> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">CHAPTER</TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> </TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">I </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap01">THE FORGERS</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">II </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap02">THE EMBEZZLERS</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">III </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap03">THE GUN RUNNERS</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">IV </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap04">THE GAMBLERS</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">V </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap05">THE EAVESDROPPERS</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">VI </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap06">THE CLAIRVOYANTS</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">VII </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap07">THE PLUNGERS</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">VIII </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap08">THE ABDUCTORS</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">IX </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap09">THE SHOPLIFTERS</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">X </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap10">THE BLACKMAILERS</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">XI </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap11">THE DOPE FIENDS</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">XII </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap12">THE FUGITIVES</A></TD> +</TR> + +</TABLE> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap01"></A> + +<H2 ALIGN="center"> +CONSTANCE DUNLAP +</H2> + +<BR> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER I +</H3> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +THE FORGERS +</H3> + +<P> +There was something of the look of the hunted animal brought to bay at +last in Carlton Dunlap's face as he let himself into his apartment late +one night toward the close of the year. +</P> + +<P> +On his breath was the lingering odor of whisky, yet in his eye and hand +none of the effects. He entered quietly, although there was no apparent +reason for such excessive caution. Then he locked the door with the +utmost care, although there was no apparent reason for caution about +that, either. +</P> + +<P> +Even when he had thus barricaded himself, he paused to listen with all +the elemental fear of the cave man who dreaded the footsteps of his +pursuers. In the dim light of the studio apartment he looked anxiously +for the figure of his wife. Constance was not there, as she had been on +other nights, uneasily awaiting his return. What was the matter? His +hand shook a trifle now as he turned the knob of the bedroom door and +pushed it softly open. +</P> + +<P> +She was asleep. He leaned over, not realizing that her every faculty +was keenly alive to his presence, that she was acting a part. +</P> + +<P> +"Throw something around yourself, Constance," he whispered hoarsely +into her ear, as she moved with a little well-feigned start at being +suddenly wakened, "and come into the studio. There is something I must +tell you tonight, my dear." +</P> + +<P> +"My dear!" she exclaimed bitterly, now seeming to rouse herself with an +effort and pretending to put back a stray wisp of her dark hair in +order to hide from him the tears that still lingered on her flushed +cheeks. "You can say that, Carlton, when it has been every night the +same old threadbare excuse of working at the office until midnight?" +</P> + +<P> +She set her face in hard lines, but could not catch his eye. +</P> + +<P> +"Carlton Dunlap," she added in a tone that rasped his very soul, "I am +nobody's fool. I may not know much about bookkeeping and accounting, +but I can add—and two and two, when the same man but different women +compose each two, do not make four, according to my arithmetic, but +three, from which,"—she finished almost hysterically the little speech +she had prepared, but it seemed to fall flat before the man's curiously +altered manner—"from which I shall subtract one." +</P> + +<P> +She burst into tears. +</P> + +<P> +"Listen," he urged, taking her arm gently to lead her to an easy-chair. +</P> + +<P> +"No, no, no!" she cried, now thoroughly aroused, with eyes that again +snapped accusation and defiance at him, "don't touch me. Talk to me, if +you want to, but don't, don't come near me." She was now facing him, +standing in the high-ceilinged "studio," as they called the room where +she had kept up in a desultory manner for her own amusement the art +studies which had interested her before her marriage. "What is it that +you want to say? The other nights you said nothing at all. Have you at +last thought up an excuse? I hope it is at least a clever one." +</P> + +<P> +"Constance," he remonstrated, looking fearfully about. Instinctively +she felt that her accusation was unjust. Not even that had dulled the +hunted look in his face. "Perhaps—perhaps if it were that of which you +suspect me, we could patch it up. I don't know. But, Constance, I—I +must leave for the west on the first train in the morning." He did not +pause to notice her startled look, but raced on. "I have worked every +night this week trying to straighten out those accounts of mine by the +first of the year and—and I can't do it. An expert begins on them in a +couple of days. You must call up the office to-morrow and tell them +that I am ill, tell them anything. I must get at least a day or two +start before they—" +</P> + +<P> +"Carlton," she interrupted, "what is the matter? What have you—" +</P> + +<P> +She checked herself in surprise. He had been fumbling in his pocket and +now laid down a pile of green and yellow banknotes on the table. +</P> + +<P> +"I have scraped together every last cent I can spare," he continued, +talking jerkily to suppress his emotion. "They cannot take those away +from you, Constance. And—when I am settled—in a new life," he +swallowed hard and averted his eyes further from her startled gaze, +"under a new name, somewhere, if you have just a little spot in your +heart that still responds to me, I—I—no, it is too much even to hope. +Constance, the accounts will not come out right because I am—I am an +embezzler." +</P> + +<P> +He bit off the word viciously and then sank his head into his hands and +bowed it to a depth that alone could express his shame. +</P> + +<P> +Why did she not say something, do something? Some women would have +fainted. Some would have denounced him. But she stood there and he +dared not look up to read what was written in her face. He felt alone, +all alone, with every man's hand against him, he who had never in all +his life felt so or had done anything to make him feel so before. He +groaned as the sweat of his mental and physical agony poured coldly out +on his forehead. All that he knew was that she was standing there, +silent, looking him through and through, as cold as a statue. Was she +the personification of justice? Was this but a foretaste of the +ostracism of the world? +</P> + +<P> +"When we were first married, Constance," he began sadly, "I was only a +clerk for Green & Co., at two thousand a year. We talked it over. I +stayed and in time became cashier at five thousand. But you know as +well as I that five thousand does not meet the social obligations laid +on us by our position in the circle in which we are forced to move." +</P> + +<P> +His voice had become cold and hard, but he did not allow himself to be +betrayed into adding, as he might well have done in justice to himself, +that to her even a thousand dollars a month would have been only a +beginning. It was not that she had been accustomed to so much in the +station of life from which he had taken her. The plain fact was that +New York had had an over-tonic effect on her. +</P> + +<P> +"You were not a nagging woman, Constance," he went on in a somewhat +softened tone. "In fact you have been a good wife; you have never +thrown it up to me that I was unable to make good to the degree of many +of our friends in purely commercial lines. All you have ever said is +the truth. A banking house pays low for its brains. My God!" he cried +stiffening out in the chair and clenching his fists, "it pays low for +its temptations, too." +</P> + +<P> +There had been nothing in the world Carlton would not have given to +make happy the woman who stood now, leaning on the table in cold +silence, with averted head, regarding neither him nor the pile of +greenbacks. +</P> + +<P> +"Hundreds of thousands of dollars passed through my hands every week," +he resumed. "That business owed me for my care of it. It was taking the +best in me and in return was not paying what other businesses paid for +the best in other men. When a man gets thinking that way, with a woman +whom he loves as I love you—something happens." +</P> + +<P> +He paused in the bitterness of his thoughts. She moved as if to speak. +"No, no," he interrupted. "Hear me out first. All I asked was a chance +to employ a little of the money that I saw about me—not to take it, +but to employ it for a little while, a few days, perhaps only a few +hours. Money breeds money. Why should I not use some of this idle money +to pay me what I ought to have? +</P> + +<P> +"When Mr. Green was away last summer I heard some inside news about a +certain stock. So it happened that I began to juggle the accounts. It +is too long a story to tell how I did it. Anybody in my position could +have done it—for a time. It would not interest you anyhow. But I did +it. The first venture was successful. Also the spending of the money +was very successful, in its way. That was the money that took us to the +fashionable hotel in Atlantic City where we met so many people. Instead +of helping me, it got me in deeper. +</P> + +<P> +"When the profit from this first deal was spent there was nothing to do +but to repeat what I had done successfully before. I could not quit +now. I tried again, a little hypothecation of some bonds. Stocks went +down. I had made a bad bet and five thousand dollars was wiped out, a +whole year's salary. I tried again, and wiped out five thousand more. I +was at my wits' end. I have borrowed under fictitious names, used names +of obscure persons as borrowers, have put up dummy security. It was +possible because I controlled the audits. But it has done no good. The +losses have far outbalanced the winnings and to-day I am in for +twenty-five thousand dollars." +</P> + +<P> +She was watching him now with dilating eyes as the horror of the +situation was burned into her soul. He raced on, afraid to pause lest +she should interrupt him. +</P> + +<P> +"Mr. Green has been talked into introducing scientific management and a +new system into the business by a certified public accountant, an +expert in installing systems and discovering irregularities. Here I am, +faced by certain exposure," he went on, pacing the floor and looking +everywhere but at her face. "What should I do? Borrow? It is useless. I +have no security that anyone would accept. +</P> + +<P> +"There is just one thing left." He lowered his voice until it almost +sank into a hoarse whisper. "I must cut loose. I have scraped together +what I can and I have borrowed on my life insurance. Here on the table +is all that I can spare. +</P> + +<P> +"To-night, the last night, I have worked frantically in a vain hope +that something, some way would at last turn up. It has not. There is no +other way out. In despair I have put this off until the last moment. +But I have thought of nothing else for a week. Good God, Constance, I +have reached the mental state where even intoxicants fail to +intoxicate." +</P> + +<P> +He dropped back again into the deep chair and sank his head again on +his hands. He groaned as he thought of the agony of packing a bag and +slinking for the Western express through the crowds at the railroad +terminal. +</P> + +<P> +Still Constance was silent. Through her mind was running the single +thought that she had misjudged him. There had been no other woman in +the case. As he spoke, there came flooding into her heart the sudden +realization of the truth. He had done it for her. +</P> + +<P> +It was a rude and bitter awakening after the past months when the +increased income, with no questions asked, had made her feel that they +were advancing. She passed her hands over her eyes, but there it was +still, not a dream but a harsh reality. If she could only have gone +back and undone it! But what was done, was done, She was amazed at +herself. It was not horror of the deed that sent an icy shudder over +her. It was horror of exposure. +</P> + +<P> +He had done it for her. Over and over again that thought raced through +her mind. She steeled herself at last to speak. She hardly knew what +was in her own mind, what the conflicting, surging emotions of her own +heart meant. +</P> + +<P> +"And so, you are leaving me what is left, leaving me in disgrace, and +you are going to do the best you can to get away safely. You want me to +tell one last lie for you." +</P> + +<P> +There was an unnatural hollowness in her voice which he did not +understand, but which cut him to the quick. He had killed love. He was +alone. He knew it. With a final effort he tried to moisten his parched +lips to answer. At last, in a husky voice, he managed to say, "Yes." +</P> + +<P> +But with all his power of will he could not look at her. +</P> + +<P> +"Carlton Dunlap," she cried, leaning both hands for support on the +table, bending over and at last forcing him to look her in the eyes, +"do you know what I think of you? I think you are a damned coward. +There!" +</P> + +<P> +Instead of tears and recriminations, instead of the conventional "How +could you do it?" instead of burning denunciation of him for ruining +her life, he read something else in her face. What was it? +</P> + +<P> +"Coward?" he repeated slowly. "What would you have me do—take you with +me?" +</P> + +<P> +She tossed her head contemptuously. +</P> + +<P> +"Stay and face it?" he hazarded again. +</P> + +<P> +"Is there no other way?" she asked, still leaning forward with her eyes +fixed on his. "Think! Is there no way that you could avoid discovery +just for a time? Carlton, you—we are cornered. Is there no desperate +chance?" +</P> + +<P> +He shook his head sadly. +</P> + +<P> +Her eyes wandered momentarily about the studio, until they rested on an +easel. On it stood a water color on which she had been working, trying +to put into it some of the feeling which she would never have put into +words for him. On the walls of the apartment were pen and ink sketches, +scores of little things which she had done for her own amusement. She +bit her lip as an idea flashed through her mind. +</P> + +<P> +He shook his head again mournfully. +</P> + +<P> +"Somewhere," she said slowly, "I have read that clever forgers use +water colors and pen and ink like regular artists. Think—think! Is +there no way that we—that I could forge a check that would give us +breathing space, perhaps rescue us?" +</P> + +<P> +Carlton leaned over the table toward her, fascinated. He placed both +his hands on hers. They were icy, but she did not withdraw them. +</P> + +<P> +For an instant they looked into each other's eyes, an instant, and then +they understood. They were partners in crime, amateurs perhaps, but +partners as they had been in honesty. +</P> + +<P> +It was a new idea that she had suggested to him. Why should he not act +on it? Why hesitate? Why stop at it? He was already an embezzler. Why +not add a new crime to the list? As he looked into her eyes he felt a +new strength. Together they could do it. Hers was the brain that had +conceived the way out. She had the will, the compelling power to carry +the thing through. He would throw himself on her intuition, her brain, +her skill, her daring. +</P> + +<P> +On his desk in the corner, where often until far into the night he had +worked on the huge ruled sheets of paper covered with figures of the +firm's accounts, he saw two goose-necked vials, one of lemon-colored +liquid, the other of raspberry color. One was of tartaric acid, the +other of chloride of lime. It was an ordinary ink eradicator. Near the +bottles lay a rod of glass with a curious tip, an ink eraser made of +finely spun glass threads which scraped away the surface of the paper +more delicately than any other tool that had been devised. There were +the materials for his, their rehabilitation if they were placed in his +wife's deft artist fingers. Here was all the chemistry and artistry of +forgery at hand. +</P> + +<P> +"Yes," he answered eagerly, "there is a way, Constance. Together we can +do it." +</P> + +<P> +There was no time for tenderness between them now. It was cold, hard +fact and they understood each other too well to stop for endearments. +</P> + +<P> +Far into the night they sat up and discussed the way in which they +would go about the crime. They practised with erasers and with brush +and water color on the protective coloring tint on some canceled checks +of his own. Carlton must get a check of a firm in town, a check that +bore a genuine signature. In it they would make such trifling changes +in the body as would attract no attention in passing, yet would yield a +substantial sum toward wiping out Carlton's unfortunate deficit. +</P> + +<P> +Late as he had worked the night before, nervous and shaky as he felt +after the sleepless hours of planning their new life, Carlton was the +first at the office in the morning. His hand trembled as he ran through +the huge batch of mail already left at the first delivery. He paused as +he came to one letter with the name "W. J. REYNOLDS CO." on it. +</P> + +<P> +Here was a check in payment of a small bill, he knew. It was from a +firm which habitually kept hundreds of thousands on deposit at the +Gorham Bank. It fitted the case admirably. He slit open the letter. +There, neatly folded, was the check: +</P> + +<PRE STYLE="margin-left: 10%"> + No. 15711. Dec. 27, 191—. + + THE GORHAM NATIONAL BANK + + Pay to the order of....... Green & Co....... + Twenty-five 00/100 ..................Dollars + $25.00/100 + + W. J. REYNOLDS Co., + per CHAS. M. BROWN, Treas. +</PRE> + +<BR> + +<P> +It flashed over him in a moment what to do. Twenty-five thousand would +just about cover his shortage. The Reynolds firm was a big one, doing +big transactions. He slipped the check into his pocket. The check might +have been stolen in the mail. Why not? +</P> + +<P> +The journey uptown was most excruciatingly long, in spite of the fact +that he had met no one he knew either at the office or outside. At last +he arrived home, to find Constance waiting anxiously. +</P> + +<P> +"Did you get a check?" she asked, hardly waiting for his reply. "Let me +see it. Give it to me." +</P> + +<P> +The coolness with which she went about it amazed him. "It has the +amount punched on it with a check punch," she observed as she ran her +quick eye over it while he explained his plan. "We'll have to fill up +some of those holes made by the punch." +</P> + +<P> +"I know the kind they used," he answered. "I'll get one and a desk +check from the Gorham. You do the artistic work, my dear. My knowledge +of check punches, watermarks, and paper will furnish the rest. I'll be +back directly. Don't forget to call up the office a little before the +time I usually arrive there and tell them I am ill." +</P> + +<P> +With her light-fingered touch she worked feverishly, partly with the +liquid ink eradicator, but mostly with the spun-glass eraser. First she +rubbed out the cents after the written figure "Twenty-five." Carefully +with a blunt instrument she smoothed down the roughened surface of the +paper so that the ink would not run in the fibers and blot. Over and +over she practised writing the "Thousand" in a hand like that on the +check. She already had the capital "T" in "Twenty" as a guide. During +the night in practising she had found that in raising checks only seven +capital letters were used—O in one, T in two, three, ten, and +thousand, F in four and five, S in six and seven, E in eight, N in nine +and H in hundred. +</P> + +<P> +At last even her practice satisfied her. Then with a coolness born only +of desperation she wrote in the words, "Thousand 00/100." When she had +done it she stopped to wonder at herself. She was amazed and perhaps a +little frightened at how readily she adapted herself to the crime of +forgery. She did not know that it was one of the few crimes in which +women had proved themselves most proficient, though she felt her own +proficiency and native ability for copying. +</P> + +<P> +Again the eraser came into play to remove the cents after the figure +"25." A comma and three zeros following it were inserted, followed by a +new "00/100." The signature was left untouched. +</P> + +<P> +Erasing the name of "Green & Co.," presented greater difficulties, but +it was accomplished with as little loss of the protective coloring on +the surface of the check as possible. Then after the "Pay to the order +of" she wrote in, as her husband had directed, "The Carlton Realty Co." +</P> + +<P> +Next came the water color to restore the protective tint where the +glass eraser and the acids had removed it. There was much delicate +matching of tints and careful painting in with a fine camel's hair +brush, until at last the color of those parts where there had been an +erasure was apparently as good as any other part. +</P> + +<P> +Of course, under the microscope there could have been seen the angry +crisscrossing of the fibers of the paper due to the harsh action of the +acids and the glass eraser. Still, painting the whole thing over with a +little resinous liquid somewhat restored the glaze to the paper, at +least sufficiently to satisfy a cursory glance of the naked eye. +</P> + +<P> +There remained the difficulty of the protective punch marks. There they +were, a star cut out of the check itself, a dollar sign and 25 followed +by another star. +</P> + +<P> +She was still admiring her handiwork, giving it here and there a light +little fillip with the brush and comparing this check with some of +those which had been practised on last night, to see whether she had +made any improvement in her technique of forgery, when Carlton returned +with the punch and the blank checks on the Gorham Bank. +</P> + +<P> +From one of the blank checks he punched out a number of little stars +until there was one which in watermark and scroll work corresponded +precisely with that punched out in the original check. +</P> + +<P> +Constance, whose fingers had long been accustomed to fine work, fitted +in the little star after the $25, then took it out, moistened the edges +ever so lightly with glue on the end of a toothpick, and pasted it back +again. A hot iron completed the work of making the edges smooth and +unless a rather powerful glass had been used no one could have seen the +pasted-in insertion after the $25. +</P> + +<P> +Careful not to deviate the fraction of a hair's breadth from the +alignment Carlton took the punch, added three 0's, and a star after the +25, making it $25,000. Finally the whole thing was again ironed to give +it the smoothness of an original. Here at last was the completed work, +the first product of their combined skill in crime: +</P> + +<PRE STYLE="margin-left: 10%"> + No. 15711. Dec. 27,191—. + THE GORHAM NATIONAL BANK + + Pay to the order of... The Carlton Realty Co. + Twenty-five Thousand 00/100.........Dollars + $25,000.00/100 + + W. J. REYNOLDS Co., + per CHAS. M. BROWN, Treas. +</PRE> + +<BR> + +<P> +How completely people may change, even within a few hours, was well +illustrated as they stood side by side and regarded their work with as +much pride as if it had been the result of their honest efforts of +years. They were now pen and brush crooks of the first caliber, had +reduced forgery to a fine art and demonstrated what an amateur might +do. For, although they did not know it, nearly half the fifteen +millions or so lost by forgeries every year was the work of amateurs +such as they. +</P> + +<P> +The next problem was presenting the check for collection. Of course +Carlton could not put it through his own bank, unless he wanted to +leave a blazed trail straight to himself. Only a colossal bluff would +do, and in a city where only colossal bluffs succeed it was not so +impossible as might have been first imagined. +</P> + +<P> +Luncheon over, they sauntered casually into a high-class office +building on Broadway where there were offices to rent. The agent was +duly impressed by the couple who talked of their large real estate +dealings. Where he might have been thoroughly suspicious of a man and +might have asked many embarrassing but perfectly proper questions, he +accepted the woman without a murmur. At her suggestion he even +consented to take his new tenants around to the Uptown Bank and +introduce them. They made an excellent impression by a first cash +deposit of the money Carlton had thrown down on the table the night +before. A check for the first month's rent more than mollified the +agent and talk of a big deal that was just being signed up to-day duly +impressed the bank. +</P> + +<P> +The next problem was to get the forged check certified. That, also, +proved a very simple matter. Any one can walk into a bank and get a +check for $25,000 certified, while if he appears, a stranger, before +the window of the paying teller to cash a check for twenty-five dollars +he would almost be thrown out of the bank. Banks will certify at a +glance practically any check that looks right, but they pass on the +responsibility of cashing them. Thus before the close of banking hours +Dunlap was able to deposit in his new bank the check certified by the +Gorham. +</P> + +<P> +Twenty-four hours must elapse before he could draw against the check +which he had deposited. He did not propose to waste that time, so that +the next day found him at Green & Co.'s, feeling much better. Really he +had come prepared now to straighten out the books, knowing that in a +few hours he could make good. +</P> + +<P> +The first hesitation due to the newness of the game had worn off by +this time. Nothing at all of an alarming nature had happened. The new +month had already begun and as most firms have their accounts balanced +only once a month, he had, he reasoned, nearly the entire four weeks in +which to operate. +</P> + +<P> +Conscience was dulled in Constance, also, and she was now busy with ink +eraser, the water colors, and other paraphernalia in a wholesale +raising of checks, mostly for amounts smaller than that in the first +attempt. +</P> + +<P> +"We are taking big chances, anyway," she urged him. "Why quit yet? A +few days more and we may land something worth while." +</P> + +<P> +The next day he excused himself from the office for a while and +presented himself at his new bank with a sheaf of new checks which she +had raised, all certified, and totaling some thousands more. +</P> + +<P> +His own check for twenty-five thousand was now honored. The relief +which he felt was tremendous after the weeks of grueling anxiety. At +once he hurried to a broker's and placed an order for the stocks he had +used on which to borrow. He could now replace everything in the safe, +straighten out the books, could make everything look right to the +systematizer, could blame any apparent irregularity on his old system. +Even ignorance was better than dishonesty. +</P> + +<P> +Constance, meanwhile, had installed herself in the little office they +had hired, as stenographer and secretary. Once having embarked on the +hazardous enterprise she showed no disposition to give it up yet An +office boy was hired and introduced at the bank. +</P> + +<P> +The mythical realty company prospered, at least if prosperity is +measured merely by the bank book. In less than a week the skilful pen +and brush of Constance had secured them a balance, after straightening +out Carlton's debts, that came well up to a hundred thousand dollars, +mostly in small checks, some with genuine signatures and amounts +altered, others complete forgeries. +</P> + +<P> +As they went deeper and deeper, Constance began to feel the truth of +their situation. It was she who was really at the helm in this +enterprise. It had been her idea; the execution of it had been mainly +her work; Carlton had furnished merely the business knowledge that she +did not possess. The more she thought of it during the hours in the +little office while he was at work downtown, the more uneasy did she +become. +</P> + +<P> +What if he should betray himself in some way? She was sure of herself. +But she was almost afraid to let him go out of her sight. She felt a +sinking sensation every time he mentioned any of the happenings in the +banking house. Could he be trusted alone not to betray himself when the +first hint of discovery of something wrong came? +</P> + +<P> +It was now near the middle of the month. It would not pay to wait until +the end. Some one of the many firms whose checks they had forged might +have its book balanced at any time now. From day to day small amounts +in cash had already been withdrawn until they were twenty thousand +dollars to the good. They planned to draw out thirty thousand now at +one time. That would give them fifty thousand, roughly half of their +forgeries. +</P> + +<P> +The check was written and the office boy was started to the bank with +it. Carlton followed him at a distance, as he had on other occasions, +ready to note the first sign of trouble as the boy waited at the +teller's window. At last the boy was at the head of the line. He had +passed the check in and his satchel was lying open, with voracious maw, +on the ledge below the wicket for the greedy feeding of stacks of +bills. Why did the teller not raise the wicket and shove out the money +in a coveted pile? Carlton seemed to feel that something was wrong. The +line lengthened and those at the end of the queue began to grow restive +at the delay. One of the bank's officers walked down and spoke to the +boy. +</P> + +<P> +Carlton waited no longer. The game was up. He rushed from his coign of +observation, out of the bank building, and dashed into a telephone +booth. +</P> + +<P> +"Quick, Constance," he shouted over the wire, "leave everything. They +are holding up our check. They have discovered something. Take a cab +and drive slowly around the square. You will find me waiting for you at +the north end." +</P> + +<P> +That night the newspapers were full of the story. There was the whole +thing, exaggerated, distorted, multiplied, until they had become +swindlers of millions instead of thousands. But nevertheless it was +their story. There was only one grain of consolation. It was in the +last paragraph of the news item, and read: "There seems to be no trace +of the man and woman who worked this clever swindle. As if by a +telepathic message they have vanished at just the time when their whole +house of cards collapsed." +</P> + +<P> +They removed every vestige of their work from the apartment. Everything +was destroyed. Constance even began a new water color so that that +might suggest that she had not laid aside her painting. +</P> + +<P> +They had played for a big stake and lost. But the twenty thousand +dollars was something. Now the great problem was to conceal it and +themselves. They had lost, yet if ever before they loved, it was as +nothing to what it was now that they had tasted together the bitter and +the sweet of their mutual crime. +</P> + +<P> +Carlton went down to the office the next day, just as before. The +anxious hours that his wife had previously spent thinking whether he +might betray himself by some slip were comparative safety as contrasted +with the uncertainty of the hours now. But the first day after the +alarm of the discovery passed off all right. Carlton even discussed the +case, his case, with those in the office, commented on it, condemned +the swindlers, and carried it off, he felt proud to say, as well as +Constance herself might have done had she been in his place. +</P> + +<P> +Another day passed. His account of the first day, reassuring as it had +been to her, did not lessen the anxiety. Yet never before had they +seemed to be bound together by such ties as knitted their very souls in +this crisis. She tried with a devotion that was touching to impart to +him some of her own strength to ward off detection. +</P> + +<P> +It was the afternoon of the second day that a man who gave the name of +Drummond called and presented a card of the Reynolds Company. +</P> + +<P> +"Have you ever been paid a little bill of twenty-five dollars by our +company?" he asked. +</P> + +<P> +Down in his heart Carlton knew that this man was a detective. "I can't +say without looking it up," he replied. +</P> + +<P> +Carlton touched a button and an assistant appeared. Something outside +himself seemed to nerve him up, as he asked: "Look up our account with +Reynolds, and see if we have been paid—what is it?—a bill for +twenty-five dollars. Do you recall it?" +</P> + +<P> +"Yes, I recall it," replied the assistant. "No, Mr. Dunlap, I don't +think it has been paid. It is a small matter, but we sent them a +duplicate bill yesterday. I thought the original must have gone astray." +</P> + +<P> +Carlton cursed him inwardly for sending the bill. But then, he +reasoned, it was only a question of time, after all, when the forgery +would be discovered. +</P> + +<P> +Drummond dropped into a half-confidential, half-quizzing tone. "I +thought not. Somewhere along the line that check has been stolen and +raised to twenty-five thousand dollars," he remarked. +</P> + +<P> +"Is that so?" gasped Carlton, trying hard to show just the right amount +of surprise and not too much. "Is that so?" +</P> + +<P> +"No doubt you have read in the papers of this clever realty company +swindle? Well, it seems to have been part of that." +</P> + +<P> +"I am sure that we shall be glad to do all in our power to cooperate +with Reynolds," put in Dunlap. +</P> + +<P> +"I thought you would," commented Drummond dryly. "I may as well tell +you that I fear some one has been tampering with your mail." +</P> + +<P> +"Tampering with OUR mail?" repeated Dunlap, aghast. "Impossible." +</P> + +<P> +"Nothing is impossible until it is proved so," answered Drummond, +looking him straight in the eyes. Carlton did not flinch. He felt a new +power within himself, gained during the past few days of new +association with Constance. For her he could face anything. +</P> + +<P> +But when Drummond was gone he felt as he had on the night when he had +finally realized that he could never cover up the deficit in his books. +With an almost superhuman effort he gripped himself. Interminably the +hours of the rest of the day dragged on. +</P> + +<P> +That night he sank limp into a chair on his return home. "A man named +Drummond was in the office to-day, my dear," he said. "Some one in the +office sent Reynolds a duplicate bill, and they know about the check." +</P> + +<P> +"Well?" +</P> + +<P> +"I wonder if they suspect me?" +</P> + +<P> +"If you act like that, they won't suspect. They'll arrest," she +commented sarcastically. +</P> + +<P> +He had braced up again into his new self at her words. But there was +again that sinking sensation in her heart, as she realized that it was, +after all, herself on whom he depended, that it was she who had been +the will, even though he had been the intellect of their enterprise. +She could not overcome the feeling that, if only their positions could +be reversed, the thing might even yet be carried through. +</P> + +<P> +Drummond appeared again at the office the next day. There was no +concealment about him now. He said frankly that he was from the Burr +Detective Agency, whose business it was to guard the banks against +forgeries. +</P> + +<P> +"The pen work, or, as we detectives call it, the penning," he remarked, +"in the case of that check is especially good. It shows rare skill. But +the pitfalls in this forgery game are so many that, in avoiding one, a +forger, ever so clever, falls into another." +</P> + +<P> +Carlton felt the polite third degree, as he proceeded: "Nowadays the +forger has science to contend with, too. The microscope and camera may +come in a little too late to be of practical use in preventing the +forger from getting his money at first, but they come in very neatly +later in catching him. What the naked eye cannot see in this check they +reveal. Besides, a little iodine vapor brings out the original 'Green & +Co.' on it. +</P> + +<P> +"We have found out also that the protective coloring was restored by +water color. That was easy. Where the paper was scratched and the +sizing taken off, it has been painted with a resinous substance to +restore the glaze, to the eye. Well, a little alcohol takes that off, +too. Oh, the amateur forger may be the most dangerous kind, because the +professional regularly follows the same line, leaves tracks, has +associates, but," he concluded impressively, "all are caught sooner or +later—sooner or later." +</P> + +<P> +Dunlap managed to maintain his outward composure admirably. Still the +little lifting of the curtain on the hidden mysteries of the new +detective art produced its effect. They were getting closer, and Dunlap +knew it, as Drummond intended he should. And, as in every crisis, he +turned naturally to Constance. Never had she meant so much to him as +now. +</P> + +<P> +That night as he entered the apartment he happened to glance behind +him. In the shadow down the street a man dodged quickly behind a tree. +The thing gave him a start. He was being watched. +</P> + +<P> +"There is just one thing left," he cried excitedly as he hurried +upstairs with the news. "We must both disappear this time." +</P> + +<P> +Constance took it very calmly. "But we must not go together," she added +quickly, her fertile mind, as ever, hitting directly on a plan of +action. "If we separate, they will be less likely to trace us, for they +will never think we would do that." +</P> + +<P> +It was evident that the words were being forced out by the conflict of +common sense and deep emotion. "Perhaps it will be best for you to +stick to your original idea of going west. I shall go to one of the +winter resorts. We shall communicate only through the personal column +of the Star. Sign yourself Weston. I shall sign Easton." +</P> + +<P> +The words fell on Carlton with his new and deeper love for her like a +death sentence. It had never entered his mind that they were to be +separated now. Dissolve their partnership in crime? To him it seemed as +if they had just begun to live since that night when they had at last +understood each other. And it had come to this—separation. +</P> + +<P> +"A man can always shift for himself better if he has no impediments," +she said, speaking rapidly as if to bolster up her own resolution. "A +woman is always an impediment in a crisis like this." +</P> + +<P> +In her face he saw what he had never seen before. There was love in it +that would sacrifice everything. She was sending him away from her, not +to save herself but to save him. Vainly he attempted to protest. She +placed her finger on his lips. Never before had he felt such +over-powering love for her. And yet she held him in check in spite of +himself. +</P> + +<P> +"Take enough to last a few months," she added hastily. "Give me the +rest. I can hide it and take care of myself. Even if they trace me I +can get off. A woman can always do that more easily than a man. Don't +worry about me. Go somewhere, start a new life. If it takes years, I +will wait. Let me know where you are. We can find some way in which I +can come back into your life. No, no,"—Carlton had caught her +passionately in his arms—"even that cannot weaken me. The die is cast. +We must go." +</P> + +<P> +She tore herself away from him and fled into her room, where, with set +face and ashen lips, she stuffed article after article into her grip. +With a heavy heart Carlton did the same. The bottom had dropped out of +everything, yet try as he would to reason it out, he could find no +other solution but hers. To stay was out of the question, if indeed it +was not already too late to run. To go together was equally out of the +question. Constance had shown that. "Seek the woman," was the first +rule of the police. +</P> + +<P> +As they left the apartment they could see a man across the street +following them closely. They were shadowed. In despair Carlton turned +toward his wife. A sudden idea had flashed over her. There were two +taxicabs at the station on the corner. +</P> + +<P> +"I will take the first," she whispered. "Take the second and follow me. +Then he cannot trace us." +</P> + +<P> +They were off, leaving the baffled shadow only time to take the numbers +of the cab. Constance had thought of that. She stopped and Carlton +joined her. After a short walk they took another cab. +</P> + +<P> +He looked at her inquiringly, but she said nothing. In her eyes he saw +the same fire that blazed when she had asked him if there was no way to +avoid discovery and had suggested it herself in the forgery. He reached +over and caressed her hand. She did not withdraw it, but her averted +eyes told that she could not trust even herself too far. +</P> + +<P> +As they stood before the gateway to the steps that led down into the +long under-river tunnel which was to swallow them so soon and project +them, each into a new life, hundreds, perhaps thousands of miles apart, +Carlton realized as never before what it all had meant. He had loved +her through all the years, but never with the wild love of the past two +weeks. Now there was nothing but blackness and blankness. He felt as +though the hand of fate was tearing out his wildly beating heart. +</P> + +<P> +She tried to smile at him bravely. She understood. For a moment she +looked at him in the old way and all the pent-up love that would have, +that had done and dared everything for him struggled in her rapidly +rising and falling breast. +</P> + +<P> +It was now or never. She knew it, the supreme effort. One word or look +too many from her and all would be lost. She flung her arms about him +and kissed him. "Remember—one week from to-day—a personal—in the +STAR," she panted. +</P> + +<P> +She literally tore herself from his arms, gathered up her grip, and was +gone. +</P> + +<P> +A week passed. The quiet little woman at the Oceanview House was still +as much a mystery to the other guests as when she arrived, +travel-stained and worn with the repressed emotion of her sacrifice. +She had appeared to show no interest in anything, to take her meals +mechanically, to stay most of the time in her room, never to enter into +any of the recreations of the famous winter resort. +</P> + +<P> +Only once a day did she betray the slightest concern about anything +around her. That was when the New York papers arrived. Then she was +always first at the news-stand, and the boy handed out to her, as a +matter of habit, the STAR. Yet no one ever saw her read it. Directly +afterward she would retire to her room. There she would pore over the +first page, reading and rereading every personal in it. Sometimes she +would try reading them backward and transposing the words, as if the +message they contained might be in the form of a cryptograph. +</P> + +<P> +The strain and the suspense began to show on her. Day after day passed, +until it was nearly two weeks since the parting in New York. Day after +day she grew more worn by worry and fear. What had happened? +</P> + +<P> +In desperation she herself wired a personal to the paper: "Weston. +Write me at the Oceanview. Easton." +</P> + +<P> +For three days she waited for an answer. Then she wired the personal +again. Still there was no reply and no hint of reply. Had they captured +him? Or was he so closely pursued that he did not dare to reply even in +the cryptic manner on which they had agreed! +</P> + +<P> +She took the file of papers which she kept and again ran through the +personals, even going back to the very day after they had separated. +Perhaps she had missed one, though she knew that she could not have +done so, for she had looked at them a hundred times. Where was he? Why +did he not answer her message in some way? No one had followed her. +Were they centering their efforts on capturing him? +</P> + +<P> +She haunted the news-stand in the lobby of the beautifully appointed +hotel. Her desire to read newspapers grew. She read everything. +</P> + +<P> +It was just two weeks since they had left New York on their separate +journeys when, on the evening of another newsless day, she was passing +the news-stand. From force of habit she glanced at an early edition of +an evening paper. +</P> + +<P> +The big black type of the heading caught her eye: +</P> + +<H4 ALIGN="center"> +NOTED FORGER A SUICIDE +</H4> + +<P> +With a little shriek, half-suppressed, she seized the paper. It was +Carlton. There was his name. He had shot himself in a room in a hotel +in St. Louis. She ran her eye down the column, hardly able to read. In +heavier type than the rest was the letter they had found on him: +</P> + +<P CLASS="noindent"> +MY DEAREST CONSTANCE, +</P> + +<P CLASS="noindent"> +When you read this I, who have wronged and deceived you beyond words, +will be where I can no longer hurt you. Forgive me, for by this act I +am a confessed embezzler and forger. I could not face you and tell you +of the double life I was leading. So I have sent you away and have gone +away myself—and may the Lord have mercy on the soul of +</P> + +<P CLASS="noindent"> +Your devoted husband, CARLTON DUNLAP. +</P> + +<P> +Over and over again she read the words, as she clutched at the edge of +the news-stand to keep from fainting—"wronged and deceived you," "the +double life I was leading." What did he mean? Had he, after all, been +concealing something else from her? Had there really been another woman? +</P> + +<P> +Suddenly the truth flashed over her. Tracked and almost overtaken, +lacking her hand which had guided him, he had seen no other way out. +And in his last act he had shouldered it all on himself, had shielded +her nobly from the penalty, had opened wide for her the only door of +escape. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap02"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER II +</H3> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +THE EMBEZZLERS +</H3> + +<P> +"I came here to hide, to vanish forever from those who know me." +</P> + +<P> +The young man paused a moment to watch the effect of his revelation of +himself to Constance Dunlap. There was a certain cynical bitterness in +his tone which made her shudder. +</P> + +<P> +"If you were to be discovered—what then?" she hazarded. +</P> + +<P> +Murray Dodge looked at her significantly, but said nothing. Instead, he +turned and gazed silently at the ruffled waters of Woodlake. There was +no mistaking the utter hopelessness and grim determination of the man. +</P> + +<P> +"Why—why have you told so much to me, an absolute stranger?" she +asked, searching his face. "Might I not hand you over to the detectives +who, you say, will soon be looking for you?" +</P> + +<P> +"You might," he answered quickly, "but you won't." +</P> + +<P> +There was a note of appeal in his voice as he pursued slowly, not as if +seeking protection, but as if hungry for friendship and most of all her +friendship, "Mrs. Dunlap, I have heard what the people at the hotel say +is your story. I think I understand, as much as a man can. Anyhow, I +know that you can understand. I have reached a point where I must tell +some one or go insane. It is only a question of time before I shall be +caught. We are all caught. Tell me," he asked eagerly, bending down +closer to her with an almost breathless intensity in his face as though +he would read her thoughts, "am I right? The story of you which I have +heard since I came here is not the truth, the whole truth. It is only +half the truth—is it not?" +</P> + +<P> +Constance felt that this man was dangerously near understanding her, as +no one yet had seemed to be. It set her heart beating wildly to know +that he did. And yet she was not afraid. Somehow, although she did not +betray the answer by a word or a look, she felt that she could trust +him. +</P> + +<P> +Through the door of escape from the penalty of her forgeries, which +Carlton Dunlap had thrown open for her by the manner of his death, +Constance had passed unsuspected. To return to New York, however, had +become out of the question. She had plenty of money for her present +needs, although she thought it best to say nothing about it lest some +one might wonder and stumble on the truth. +</P> + +<P> +She had closed up the little studio apartment, and had gone to a quiet +resort in the pines. Here, at least, she thought she might live +unobserved until she could plan out the tangled future of her life. +</P> + +<P> +There had seemed to be no need to conceal her identity, and she had +felt it better not to do so. She knew that her story would follow her, +and it had. She was prepared for that. She was prepared for the pity +and condescension of the gossips and had made up her mind to stand +aloof. +</P> + +<P> +Then came a day when a stranger had registered at the hotel. She had +not noticed him especially, but it was not long before she realized +that he was noticing her. Was he a detective? Had he found out the +truth in some uncanny way? She felt sure that the name on the hotel +register, Malcolm Dodd, was not his real name. +</P> + +<P> +Constance had not been surprised when the head waiter had seated the +young man at her table. No doubt he had manoeuvred it so. Nor did she +avoid the guarded acquaintance that resulted in the natural course of +events. +</P> + +<P> +One afternoon, shortly after his arrival, she had encountered him +unexpectedly on a walk through the pines. He appeared surprised to meet +her, yet she knew intuitively that he had been following her. Still, it +was so different now to have any one seek her company that, in spite of +her uncertainty of him, she almost welcomed his speaking. +</P> + +<P> +There was a certain deference in his manner, too, which did not accord +with Constance's ideas of a detective. Yet he did know something of +her. How much! Was it merely what the rest of the world knew? She could +not help seeing that the man was studying her, while she studied him. +There was a fascination about it, a fascination that the human mystery +always possesses for a woman. On his part, he showed keenly his +interest in her. +</P> + +<P> +Constance had met him with more frankness as she encountered him often +during the days that followed. She had even tried to draw him out to +talk of himself. +</P> + +<P> +"I came here," he had said one day when they were passing the spot +where he had overtaken her first, "without knowing a soul, not +expecting to meet any one I should care for, indeed hoping to meet no +one." +</P> + +<P> +Constance had said nothing, but she felt that at last he was going to +crash down the barrier of reserve. He continued earnestly, "Somehow or +other I have come to enjoy these little walks." +</P> + +<P> +"So have I," she admitted, facing him; "but, do you know, sometimes I +have thought that Malcolm Dodd is not your real name?" +</P> + +<P> +"Not my real name?" he repeated. +</P> + +<P> +"And that you are here for some other purpose than—just to rest. You +know, you might be a detective." +</P> + +<P> +He had looked at her searchingly. Then in a burst of confidence, he had +replied, "No, my name is not Dodd, as you guessed. But I am not a +detective, as you suspected at first. I have been watching you because, +ever since I heard your story here, I have been—well, not suspicious, +but—attracted. You seem to me to have faced a great problem. I, too, +have come to the parting of the ways. Shall I run or shall I fight?" +</P> + +<P> +He had handed her a card without hesitation. It bore the name, "Murray +Dodge, Treasurer, Globe Importing Company." +</P> + +<P> +"What do you mean?" she had asked quickly, hardly expecting an answer. +"What have you done?" +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, it is the usual trouble, I suppose," he had replied wearily, much +to her surprise. "I began as a boy in the company and ultimately worked +myself up as it grew, until I became treasurer. To cut it short, I have +used funds belonging to the company, lost them. I don't need to tell +you how a treasurer or a cashier can do that." +</P> + +<P> +Constance was actually startled. Was he what he represented himself to +be? Or was he leading her on in this way to a confession of her own +part, which she had covered so well, in the forgeries of her dead +husband? +</P> + +<P> +"How did you begin?" she asked tentatively. +</P> + +<P> +"A few years ago," he answered with a disconcerting lack of reserve, +"the company found that we could beat our competitors by a very simple +means. The largest stockholder, Mr. Dumont, was friendly with some of +the customs officials and—well, we undervalued our goods. It was easy. +The only thing necessary was to bribe some of the officials. The +president of the company, Walton Beverley, put the dirty work on me as +treasurer. Now you can imagine what that meant." +</P> + +<P> +He had fallen into a cynical tone again. +</P> + +<P> +"It meant that I soon found, or, rather, thought I found, that every +man has his price—some higher, some lower, but a price, nevertheless. +It was my business to find it, to keep it as low as I could with +safety. So it went, from one crooked thing to another. I knew I was +crooked, but not as bad, I think, as the rest who put the actual work +on me. I was unfortunate, weak perhaps. That is all. I tried to get +mine, too. I lost what I meant to put back after I had used it. They +are after me now, or soon will be—the crooks! And here I am, +momentarily expecting some one to walk up quietly behind me, tap me on +the shoulder and whisper, 'You're wanted.'" +</P> + +<P> +Time had not softened the bitterness of Constance's feelings. Somehow +she felt that the world, or at least society owed her for taking away +her husband. The world must pay. She sympathized with the young man who +was appealing to her for friendship. Why not help him? +</P> + +<P> +"Do you really, really want to know what I think?" asked Constance +after he had at last told her his wretched story. It was the first time +that she had looked at him since she realized that he was unburdening +the truth to her. +</P> + +<P> +"Yes," he answered eagerly, catching her eye. "Yes," he urged. +</P> + +<P> +"I think," she said slowly, "that you are running away from a fight +that has not yet begun." +</P> + +<P> +It thrilled her to be talking so. Once before she had tasted the +sweetness and the bitterness of crime. She did not stop to think about +right or wrong. If she had done so her ethics would have been strangely +illogical. It was enough that, short as their acquaintance had been, +she felt unconsciously that there was something latent in the spirit of +this man akin to her own. +</P> + +<P> +Murray also felt rather than understood the bond that had been growing +so rapidly between them. His was the temperament that immediately +translates feeling into action. He reached into his breast pocket. +There was the blue-black glint of a cold steel automatic. A moment he +balanced it in his hand. Then with a rapid and decisive motion of the +arm he flung it far from him. As it struck the water with a sound +horribly suggestive of the death gurgle of a lost man, he turned and +faced her. +</P> + +<P> +"There," he exclaimed with a new light in the defiant, desperate smile +that she had observed many times before, "there. The curtain +rises—instead of falls." +</P> + +<P> +Neither spoke for a few moments. At last he added, "What shall I do +next?" +</P> + +<P> +"Do?" she repeated. She felt now the weight of responsibility for +interfering with his desperate plans, but it did not oppress her. On +the contrary, it was a pleasant burden. "According to your own story," +she went on, "they know nothing yet, as far as you can see. You would +have forestalled them by taking this little vacation during which you +could disappear while they would discover the shortage. Do? Go back." +</P> + +<P> +"And when they discover it?" he asked evidently prepared for the answer +she had given and eager to know what she would propose next. +</P> + +<P> +Constance had been thinking rapidly. +</P> + +<P> +"Listen," she cried, throwing aside restraint now. "No one in New York +outside my former little circle knows me. I can live there in another +circle unobserved. For weeks I have been amusing myself by the study of +shorthand. I have picked up enough to be able to carry the thing off. +Discharge your secretary. Put an advertisement in the newspapers. I +will answer it. Then I will be able to help you. I cannot say at a +distance what you should do next. There, perhaps, I can tell you." +</P> + +<P> +What was it that had impelled her to say it? She could not have told. +Murray looked at her. Her very presence seemed to infuse new +determination into him. +</P> + +<P> +It was strange about this woman, what a wonderful effect she had on him. +</P> + +<P> +A few days before he would have laughed at any one who had suggested +that any woman might have aroused in him the passions that were now +surging through his heart. Ten thousand years ago, perhaps, he would +have seized her and carried her off in triumph to his clan or tribe. +To-day he must, he would win her by more subtle means. +</P> + +<P> +His mind was made up. She had pointed the way. That night Dodge left +Woodlake hastily for New York. +</P> + +<P> +To Constance a new purpose seemed to have entered into a barren life. +She was almost gay as she packed her trunks and grips and quietly +slipped into the city a few hours later and registered at a quiet hotel +for business women. +</P> + +<P> +Sure enough in the Star the next morning was the advertisement. She +wrote in a formal way, giving her telephone number. That afternoon, +apparently as soon as the letter had been delivered, a call came. The +following morning she was the private secretary of Murray Dodge, +sitting unobtrusively before a typewriter desk in a sort of little +anteroom that guarded the door to his office. +</P> + +<P> +She took pains to act the part of private secretary and no more. As +appeared natural to the rest of the office force at first she was much +with Murray, who made the most elaborate explanations of the detail of +the business. +</P> + +<P> +"Do they suspect anything?" she asked anxiously as soon as they were +absolutely alone. +</P> + +<P> +"I think so," he replied. "They said nothing except that they had not +expected me back so soon, I think the 'so soon' was an afterthought. +They didn't expect me back at all. For," he added significantly, "I've +been in fear and trembling until I could get you. They already have +asked the regular audit company to go over the books in advance of the +time when we usually employ them. I didn't ask why. I merely accepted +it with a nod. It might have meant bringing matters to a crisis now." +</P> + +<P> +He felt safer with Constance installed as his private secretary. True, +Beverley and Dumont had viewed her from the start with suspicion. +</P> + +<P> +Constance had been thinking hard out in her little office since she had +begun to understand how matters stood. "Well?" she demanded. "What of +it? Don't try to conceal it. Let them discover it. Go further. Dare +them. Court exposure." +</P> + +<P> +It was bold and ingenious. What a woman she was for meeting +emergencies. Murray, who had a will that had been accustomed to bend +others to his purposes except in the instance where they had bent him +and nearly broken him, recognized the masterful mind of Constance. He +was willing to allow her to play the game. +</P> + +<P> +Thus Constance began collecting the very data that would have sent +Murray to jail for bribery. Day by day as she worked on, the situation +became more and more delicate. They found themselves alone much of the +time now. Beverley was, or pretended to be, busy on other matters and +avoided Dodge as much as possible. Only the regular routine affairs +passed through his hands, but he said nothing. It gave him more time +with her. Dumont came in as rarely as it was possible. +</P> + +<P> +And as they worked along gathering the data Constance came to admire +Murray more than ever. She worked patiently over the big books, taking +only those on which the accountant was not engaged at such times as she +could get them without exciting suspicion. Together they dug out the +extent of the frauds that had been practiced on the Government for +years back. From the letter files they rescued notes and orders and +letters, pieced them together into as near a continuous record as they +could make. With his own knowledge of the books Dodge could count on +making better progress on the essential things than the regular +accountant of the audit company. He felt sure that they would finish +sooner and that they would have a closer report of the frauds of all +kinds than could be uncovered by the man who had been set on the trail +of Dodge to discover just how much of the illicit gains he had taken +for himself. +</P> + +<P> +Constance became aware soon that whenever she left the office at night +she was being followed. She had at first studiously repelled the offers +of Murray to see her home. It was not that he had taken advantage of +the situation into which she had put herself. He would never have done +that. Still, she wished a little more time to analyze her own +conflicting feelings toward him. Then, too, several times in the +crowded subway cars she had noticed a face that was familiar. It was +Drummond, never looking directly at her, always engrossed in something +else, yet never failing to note where she was going. That must be, she +reasoned, some of the work of Beverley and Dumont. +</P> + +<P> +Murray was now working feverishly. As he worked he found himself +feeling differently toward the whole affair. He actually came to enjoy +it with all its risks and uncertainty, to enjoy gathering the data +which, he should have said, ought really to be destroyed. Often he +caught himself wishing that everything had come out all right in the +end and that Constance really was his private secretary. +</P> + +<P> +Every moment with her seemed now to pass so quickly that he would +willingly have smashed all the clocks and destroyed all the calendars. +Association with other women had been tame beside his new friendship +with her. She had suffered, felt, lived. She fascinated him, as often +over the books they would stop to talk, talk of things the most +irrelevant, yet to him the most interesting, until she would bring him +back inevitably to the point of their work and start him again with a +new power and incentive toward the purpose she had in mind. +</P> + +<P> +To Constance he seemed to fill a blank spot in her empty life. If she +had been bitter toward the world for what had happened to her, the +pleasure of helping another to beat that harsh world seemed an +unspeakably sweet compensation. +</P> + +<P> +At last even Constance herself began to realize it. It was not, after +all, merely the bitterness toward society, that lured her on. She was +not a woman carved out of a block of stone. There was a sweetness about +this association that carried her along as if in a dream. She was +actually falling in love with him. +</P> + +<P> +One day she had been working later than usual. The accountant had shown +signs of approaching the end of his task sooner than they had expected. +Murray was waiting, as was his custom, for her to finish before he left. +</P> + +<P> +There was no sound in the almost deserted office building save the +banging of a door echoing now and then, or an insistent ring of the +elevator bell as an anxious office boy or stenographer sought to escape +after an extra period of work. +</P> + +<P> +Murray stood looking at her admiringly as she deftly shoved the pins +into her hat. Then he held her coat, which brought them close together. +</P> + +<P> +"It will soon be time for the final scene," he remarked. His manner was +different as he looked down at her. "We must succeed, Constance," he +went on slowly. "Of course, after it is over, it will be impossible for +me to remain here with this company. I have been looking around. I +must—we must clear ourselves. I already have an offer to go with +another company, much better than this position in every way—honest, +square, with no dirty work, such as I have had here." +</P> + +<P> +It was a moment that Constance had foreseen, without planning what she +would do. She moved to the door as if to go. +</P> + +<P> +"Take dinner with me to-night at the Riverside," he went on, mentioning +the name of a beautifully situated inn uptown overlooking the lights of +the Hudson and thronged by gay parties of pleasure seekers. +</P> + +<P> +Before she could say no, even though she would have said it, he had +linked his arm in hers, banged shut the door and they were being +whisked to the street in the elevator. +</P> + +<P> +This time, as they were about to go out of the building, she noticed +Drummond standing in the shadow of a corner back of the cigar counter +on the first floor. She told Murray of the times she had seen Drummond +following her. Murray ground his teeth. +</P> + +<P> +"He'll have to hustle this time," he muttered, handing her quickly into +a cab that was waiting for a fare. +</P> + +<P> +Before he could give the order where to drive she had leaned out of the +window, "To the ferry," she cried. +</P> + +<P> +Murray looked at her inquiringly. Then he understood. "Not to the +Riverside—yet," she whispered. "That man has just summoned a cab that +was passing." +</P> + +<P> +In her eyes Murray saw the same fire that had blazed when she had told +him he was running away from a fight that had not yet begun. As the cab +whirled through the now nearly deserted downtown streets, he reached +over in sheer admiration and caressed her hand. She did not withdraw +it, but her averted eyes and quick breath told that a thousand thoughts +were hurrying through her mind, divided between the man in the cab +beside her and the man in the cab following perhaps half a block behind. +</P> + +<P> +At the ferry they halted and pretended to be examining a time table, +though they bought only ferry tickets. Drummond did the same, and +sauntered leisurely within easy distance of the gate. Nothing seemed to +escape him, and yet never did he seem to be watching them. +</P> + +<P> +The gateman shouted "All aboard!" +</P> + +<P> +The door began to close. +</P> + +<P> +"Come," she tugged at his sleeve. +</P> + +<P> +They dodged in just in time. Drummond followed. They started across the +wagonway to the opposite side of the slip. He kept on the near side. +Constance swerved back again to the near side. Drummond had been +opposite them and they had now fallen in behind him. He was now ahead, +but going slowly. Murray felt her pulling back on his arm. With a +little exclamation she dropped her purse, which contained a few coins. +She had contrived to open it, and the coins ran in every possible +direction. Drummond was now on the boat. +</P> + +<P> +"All aboard," growled the guard surlily. "All aboard." +</P> + +<P> +"Go ahead, go ahead," shouted Murray, trying to pick up the scattered +change and scattering it the more. At last he understood. "Go ahead. +We'll take the next boat. Can't you see the lady has dropped her purse?" +</P> + +<P> +The gates closed. The warning whistle blew, and the ferryboat, +departed, bearing off Drummond alone. +</P> + +<BR> + +<P> +Another cab took them to the Riverside. A new bond of experience had +been established between them. They dined quietly and as the lights +grew mellow she told him more of her story than she had ever breathed +to any other living soul. +</P> + +<P> +As Murray listened he looked his admiration for the daring of the +little woman opposite him at the table. +</P> + +<P> +They drifted.... +</P> + +<P> +It was the day of the threatened exposure. Curiously enough, Dodge felt +no nervousness. The understanding which he had reached or felt that he +had reached with Constance made him rather eager than otherwise to have +the whole affair over with at once. +</P> + +<P> +Drummond had been shut up for some time in the office of Beverley with +Dumont, going over the report which the accountant had prepared and +other matters—He had come in without seeing either Constance or +Murray, though they knew he must be nursing his chagrin over the +episode of the night before. +</P> + +<P> +"They are waiting to see you," reported Constance to Dodge, half an +hour later, after one of the office boys had been sent over as a formal +messenger to their office. +</P> + +<P> +"We are ready for them?" he asked, smiling at her. +</P> + +<P> +Constance nodded. +</P> + +<P> +"Then I shall go in. Wait a moment. When they have hurled their worst +at me I shall call on you. Have the stuff ready." +</P> + +<P> +There was no hesitation, no misgiving on the part of either, as he +strode into Beverley's office. Constance had prepared the record which +they had been working on, and for days had been momentarily expecting +this crisis. She felt that she was ready. +</P> + +<P> +An ominous silence greeted Dodge as he entered. +</P> + +<P> +"We have had experts on your books, Dodge," began Beverley, clearing +his throat, as Murray seated himself, waiting for them to speak first. +</P> + +<P> +"I have seen that," he replied dryly. +</P> + +<P> +"They are fifty thousand dollars short," shot out Dumont. +</P> + +<P> +"Indeed?" +</P> + +<P> +Dumont gasped at the coolness of the man. "Wh—what? You have nothing +to say? Why, sir," he added, raising his voice, "you have actually made +no effort to conceal it!" +</P> + +<P> +Dodge smiled cynically. "A consultation, will rectify it," was all he +said. "A conference will show you that it is all right." +</P> + +<P> +"A consultation?" broke in Beverley in rage. "A consultation in jail!" +</P> + +<P> +Still Dodge merely smiled. +</P> + +<P> +"Then you consider yourself trapped. You admit it," ground out Dumont. +</P> + +<P> +"Anything you please," repeated Dodge. "I am perfectly willing—" +</P> + +<P> +"Let us end this farce—now," cried Beverley hotly. "Drummond!" +</P> + +<P> +The detective had been doing some rapid thinking. "Just a moment," he +interrupted. "Don't be too precipitate. Hear his side, if he has any. I +can manage him. Besides, I have something else to say about another +person that will interest us all." +</P> + +<P> +"Then you are willing to have the consultation!" +</P> + +<P> +Drummond nodded. +</P> + +<P> +"Miss Dunlap," called Murray, taking the words almost from the +detective's lips, as he opened the door and held it for her to enter. +</P> + +<P> +"No—no. Alone," almost shouted Beverley. +</P> + +<P> +The detective signaled to him and he subsided, muttering. +</P> + +<P> +As she entered Drummond looked hard at her. Constance met him without +wavering an instant. +</P> + +<P> +"I think I've seen you before, MRS. Dunlap," insinuated the detective. +</P> + +<P> +"Perhaps," replied Constance, still meeting his sharp ferret eye +squarely, which increased his animosity. +</P> + +<P> +"Your husband was Carlton Dunlap, cashier of Green & Company, was he +not?" +</P> + +<P> +She bit her lip. The manner of his raking up of old scores, though she +had expected it, was cruel. It would have been cruel in court, if she +had had a lawyer to protect her rights. It was doubly cruel, merciless, +here. Before Dodge could interrupt, the detective added, "Who committed +suicide after forging checks to meet his—" +</P> + +<P> +Murray was at Drummond like a hound. "Another word from you and I'll +throttle you," he blurted out. +</P> + +<P> +"No, Murray, no. Don't," pleaded Constance. She was burning with +indignation, but it was not by violence that she expected to prevail. +"Let him say what he has to say." +</P> + +<P> +Drummond smiled. He had no scruples about a "third degree" of this +kind, and besides there were three of them to Dodge. +</P> + +<P> +"You were—both of you—at Woodlake not long ago, were you not?" he +asked calmly. +</P> + +<P> +There was no escaping the implication of the tone. Still Drummond was +taking no chances of being misunderstood. "There was one man," he went +on, "who embezzled for you. Here is another who has embezzled. How will +that look when it goes before a jury!" he concluded. +</P> + +<P> +The fight had shifted before it had well begun. Instead of being +between Dodge on one side and Beverley and Dumont on the other, it now +seemed to be a clash between a cool detective and a clever woman. +</P> + +<P> +"Mrs. Dunlap," interrupted Murray, with a mocking smile at the +detective, "will you tell us what you have found out since you have +been my private secretary?" +</P> + +<P> +Constance had not lost control of herself for a moment. +</P> + +<P> +"I have been looking over the books a little bit myself," she began +slowly, with all eyes riveted on her. "I find, for instance, that your +company has been undervaluing its imported goods. Undervaluing +merchandise is considered, I believe, one of the meanest forms of +smuggling. The undervaluer has frequently to make a tool of a man in +his employ. Then that tool must play on the frailties of an unfortunate +or weak examiner at the Public Stores where all invoices and +merchandise from foreign countries are examined." +</P> + +<P> +Drummond had been trying to interrupt, but she had ignored him, and was +speaking rapidly so that he could get no chance. +</P> + +<P> +"You have cheated the Government of hundreds of thousands dollars," she +hurried on facing Beverley and Dumont. "It would make a splendid +newspaper story." +</P> + +<P> +Dumont moved uneasily. Drummond was now staring. It was a new phase of +the matter to him. He had not counted on handling a woman like +Constance, who knew how to take advantage of every weak spot in the +armor. +</P> + +<P> +"We are wasting time," he interrupted brusquely. "Get back to the +original subject. There is a fifty thousand-dollar shortage on these +books." +</P> + +<P> +The attempt clumsily to shift the case away again from Constance to +Dodge was apparent. +</P> + +<P> +"Mrs. Dunlap's past troubles," Dodge asserted vigorously, "have nothing +to do with the case. It was cowardly to drag that in. But the other +matter of which she speaks has much to do with it." +</P> + +<P> +"One moment, Murray," cried Constance. "Let me finish what I began. +This is my fight, too, now." +</P> + +<P> +She was talking with blazing eyes and in quick, cutting tone. +</P> + +<P> +"For three years he did your dirty work," she flashed. "He did the +bribing—and you saved half a million dollars." +</P> + +<P> +"He has stolen fifty thousand," put in Beverley, white with anger. +</P> + +<P> +"I have kept an account of everything," pursued Constance, without +pausing. "I have pieced the record together so that he can now connect +the men higher up with the actual acts he had to do. He can gain +immunity by turning state's evidence. I am not sure but that he might +be able to obtain his moiety of what the Government recovers if the +matter were brought to suit and won on the information he can furnish." +</P> + +<P> +She paused. No one seemed to breathe. +</P> + +<P> +"Now," she added impressively, "at ten per cent. commission the half +million that he saved for you yields fifty thousand dollars. That, +gentlemen, is the amount of the shortage—an offset." +</P> + +<P> +"The deuce it is!" exclaimed Beverley. +</P> + +<P> +Constance reached for a telephone on the desk near her. +</P> + +<P> +"Get me the Law Division at the Customs House," she asked simply. +</P> + +<P> +Dumont was pale and almost speechless. Beverley could ill suppress his +smothered rage. What could they do? The tables had been turned. If they +objected to the amazing proposal Constance had made they might all go +to jail. Dodge even might go free, rich. They looked at Dodge and Mrs. +Dunlap. There was no weakening. They were as relentless as their +opponents had been before. +</P> + +<P> +Dumont literally tore the telephone from her. "Never mind about that +number, central," he muttered. +</P> + +<P> +Then he started as if toward the door. The rest followed. Outside the +accountant had been waiting patiently, perhaps expecting Drummond to +call on him to corroborate the report. He had been listening. There was +no sound of high voices, as he had expected. What did it mean? +</P> + +<P> +The door opened. Beverley was pale and haggard, Dumont worn and silent. +He could scarcely talk. Dodge again held the door for Constance as she +swept past the amazed accountant. +</P> + +<P> +All eyes were now fixed on Dumont as chief spokesman. +</P> + +<P> +"He has made a satisfactory explanation," was all he said. +</P> + +<P> +"I would lock all that stuff up in the strongest safe deposit vault in +New York," remarked Constance, laying the evidence that involved them +all on Murray's desk. "It is your only safeguard." +</P> + +<P> +"Constance," he burst forth suddenly, "you were superb." +</P> + +<P> +The crisis was past now and she felt the nervous reaction. +</P> + +<P> +"There is one thing more I want to say," he added in a low tone. +</P> + +<P> +He had crossed to where she was standing by the window, and bent over, +speaking with great emotion. +</P> + +<P> +"Since that afternoon at Woodlake when you turned me back again from +the foolish and ruinous course on which I had decided you—you have +been more to me than life. Constance, I have never loved until now. +Nothing has ever mattered except money. I never had any one else to +think of, care for, except myself. You have changed everything." +</P> + +<P> +She was gazing out of the window at the tall buildings. There, in a +myriad of offices, lay wealth untold, opportunity as yet untasted to +seize that wealth. Only for an instant she turned and looked at him, +then dropped her eyes. What lay that way? +</P> + +<P> +"You are clear now, respected, respectable," she said simply. +</P> + +<P> +"Yes, thank God. Clear and with a new ambition, thanks to you." +</P> + +<P> +She had been expecting this ever since that last night. The relief of +Murray to feel that the old score that would have ruined him was now +wiped off the slate was precisely what she had anticipated. +</P> + +<P> +Yet, somehow, it disappointed her. She felt instinctively that her +triumph was burning fast to ashes. +</P> + +<P> +"Keep clear," she faltered. +</P> + +<P> +"Constance," he urged, approaching closer and taking her cold hand. +</P> + +<P> +Was she to be the one to hold him back in any way from the new life +that was now before him? What if Drummond, in his animosity, ever got +the truth? She gently unclasped her hand from his. No, that happiness +was not for her. +</P> + +<P> +"I am afraid I am a crook at heart, Murray," she said sadly. "I have +gone too far to turn back. The brand is on me. But I am not altogether +bad—yet. Think of me always with charity. Yes," she cried wildly, "I +must return to my loneliness. No, do not try to stop me, you have no +right," she added bitterly as the reality of her situation burned +itself into her heart. +</P> + +<P> +She broke away from him wildly, but with set purpose. The world had +taken away her husband; now it was a lover; the world must pay. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap03"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER III +</H3> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +THE GUN RUNNERS +</H3> + +<P> +"We'll land here, Mrs. Dunlap." +</P> + +<P> +Ramon Santos, terror of the Washington State Department and of a half +dozen consulates in New York, stuck a pin in a map of Central America +spread out on a table before Constance. +</P> + +<P> +"Insurrectos will meet us," he pursued, then added, "but we must have +money, first, my dear Senora, plenty of money." +</P> + +<P> +Dark of eye and skin, with black imperial and mustache, tall, straight +as an arrow, Santos had risen and was now gazing down with rapt +attention, not at the map, but at Constance herself. +</P> + +<P> +Every curve of her face and wave of her hair, every line of her trim +figure which her filmy gown seemed to accentuate rather than conceal +added fire to his ardent glances. +</P> + +<P> +He touched lightly another pin sticking in a little, almost microscopic +island of the Caribbean. +</P> + +<P> +"Our plan, it is simple," he continued with animation in spite of his +foreign accent. "On this island a plant to print paper money, to coin +silver. With that we shall land, pay our men as they flock to us, +collect forces, seize cities, appropriate the customs. Once we start, +it is easy." +</P> + +<P> +Constance looked up quickly. "But that is counterfeiting," she +exclaimed. +</P> + +<P> +"No," rejoined Santos, "it is a war measure. We—the provisional +government—merely coin our own money. Besides, it will not be done in +this country. It will not come under your laws." +</P> + +<P> +There was a magnetism about the man that fascinated her, as he stood +watching the effect of his words. Instinctively she knew that it was +not alone enthusiasm over his scheme that inspired his confidences. +</P> + +<P> +"Though we are not counterfeiters," he went on, "we do not know what +moment our opponents may set your Secret Service to destroy all our +hopes. Besides, we must have money—now—to buy machinery, arms, +ammunition. We must find some one," he lowered his voice, "who can +persuade American bankers and merchants to take risks to gain valuable +concessions in the new state." +</P> + +<P> +Santos was talking rapidly and earnestly, urging his case on her. +</P> + +<P> +"We are prepared," he hurried on confidentially, "to give you, Senora, +half the money that you can raise for these purposes." +</P> + +<P> +He paused and stood before her. He was certainly a handsome figure, +this soldier of fortune, and he was at his best now. +</P> + +<P> +Constance looked out of the window of her sitting room. This was a +business proposition, not to be influenced by any sentiment. +</P> + +<P> +She watched the lights moving up and down the river and bay. There were +craft from the ends of the earth. She speculated on the romantic +secrets hidden in liner and tramp. Surely they could scarcely be more +romantic than the appeal Santos was making. +</P> + +<P> +"Will you help us?" urged Santos, leaning further over the map to read +her averted face. +</P> + +<P> +In her loneliness after she had given up Murray Dodge, life in New York +had seemed even more bitter to Constance than before. Yet the great +city cast a spell over her, with its countless opportunities for +adventure. She could not leave it, but had taken a suite in a quiet +boarding house overlooking the bay from the Heights in Brooklyn. +</P> + +<P> +One guest in particular had interested her. He was a Latin American, +Ramon Santos. She noticed that he seldom appeared at breakfast or +luncheon. But at dinner he often, ordered much as if it were seven +o'clock in the morning instead of the evening. He was a mystery and +mysteries interested her. Did he work all night and sleep all day? What +was he doing? +</P> + +<P> +She was astonished a few nights after her arrival to receive a call +from the mysterious evening breakfaster. +</P> + +<P> +"Pardon—I intrude," he began gracefully, presenting his card. "But I +have heard how clever you are, Senora Dunlap. A friend, in an importing +firm, has told me of you, a Mr. Dodge." +</P> + +<P> +Constance was startled at the name. Murray had indeed written a little +note expressing his entire confidence in Mr. Santos. Formal as it was, +Constance thought she could read between the lines the same feeling +toward her that he had expressed at their parting. +</P> + +<P> +Santos gave her no time to live over the past. +</P> + +<P> +"You see, Mrs. Dunlap," he explained, as he led up to the object of his +visit, "the time has come to overthrow the regime in Central +America—for a revolution which will bring together all the countries +in a union like the old United States of Central America." +</P> + +<P> +He had spread out the map on the table. +</P> + +<P> +"Only," he added, "we would call the new state, Vespuccia." +</P> + +<P> +"We?" queried Constance. +</P> + +<P> +"Yes—my—colleagues-you call it in English! We have already a Junta +with headquarters in an old loft on South Street, in New York." +</P> + +<P> +Santos indicated the plan of campaign on the map. +</P> + +<P> +"We shall strike a blow," he cried, bringing his fist down on the table +as if the blow had already fallen, "that will paralyze the enemy at the +very start!" +</P> + +<P> +He paused. +</P> + +<P> +"Will you help us raise the money?" he repeated earnestly. +</P> + +<P> +Constance had been inactive long enough. The appeal was romantic, +almost irresistible. Besides—no, at the outset she put out of +consideration any thought of the fascinating young soldier of fortune +himself. +</P> + +<P> +The spirit of defiance of law and custom was strong upon her. That was +all. +</P> + +<P> +"Yes," she replied, "I will help you." +</P> + +<P> +Santos leaned over, and with a graceful gesture that she could not +resent, raised her finger tips gallantly to his lips. +</P> + +<P> +"Thank you," he said with, a courtly smile. "We have already won!" +</P> + +<P> +The next day Ramon introduced her to the other members of the Junta. It +was evident that he was in fact as well as name their leader, but they +were not like the usual oily plotters of revolution who congregate +about the round tables in dingy back rooms of South Street cafes, +apportioning the gold lace, the offices, and the revenues among +themselves. There was an "air" about them that was different. +</P> + +<P> +"Let me present Captain Lee Gordon of the <I>Arroyo</I>," remarked Santos, +coming to a stockily-built, sun-burned man with the unmistakable look +of the Anglo-Saxon who has spent much time in the neighborhood of the +tropical sun. "The <I>Arroyo</I> is the ship that is to carry the arms and +the plant to the island—from Brooklyn. We choose Brooklyn because it +is quieter over there—fewer people late at night on the streets." +</P> + +<P> +Captain Gordon bowed, without taking his eyes off Constance. +</P> + +<P> +"I am, like yourself, Mrs. Dunlap, a recent recruit," he explained. "It +is a wonderful plan," he added enthusiastically. "We shall sweep the +country with it." +</P> + +<P> +He flicked off the ash of his inevitable cigarette, much as if it were +the opposition of the governments they were to encounter. +</P> + +<P> +It was evident that the Captain was much impressed by Constance. Yet +she instinctively disliked the man. His cameraderie had something +offensive about it, as contrasted with the deferential friendship of +Santos. +</P> + +<P> +With all her energy, however, Constance plunged directly into her work. +Indeed, even at the start she was amazed to find that money for a +revolution could be raised at all. She soon, found that it could be +done more easily in New York than anywhere else in the world. +</P> + +<P> + There seemed to be something about her that apparently appealed to<BR> +those whom she went to see. She began to realize what a tremendous +advantage a woman of the world had in presenting the case and +convincing a speculator of the rich returns if the revolution should +prove successful. More than that, she quickly learned that it was best +to go alone, that it was she, quite as much as the promised concessions +for tobacco, salt, telegraph, telephone monopolies, that loosed the +purse strings. +</P> + +<P> +Her first week's report of pledges ran into the thousands with a +substantial immediate payment of real dollars. +</P> + +<P> +"How did you do it?" asked Santos in undisguised admiration, as she was +telling him one night of her success, in the dusty, cobwebbed little +ship chandlery on South Street where the Junta headquarters had been +established. +</P> + +<P> +"Dollar diplomacy," she laughed, not displeased at his admiration. "We +shall soon convert American dollars into Vespuccian bullets." +</P> + +<P> +They were alone, and a week had made much difference in the fascinating +friendship to Constance. +</P> + +<P> +"Let me show you what I have done," Ramon confided. "Already, I have +started together the 'counterfeiting plant,' as you call it." +</P> + +<P> +Piece by piece, as he had been able to afford them, he had been +ordering the presses, the stamping machine, and a little "reeding" or +milling machine for the edges of the coins. +</P> + +<P> +"The paper, the ink, and the bullion, we shall order now as we can," he +explained, resting his head on his elbow at the table beside her. +"Everything will be secured from firms which make mint supplies for +foreign governments. A photo-engraver is now engaged on the work of +copying the notes. He is making the plates by the photo-etching +process—the same as that by which the real money plates are made. +Then, too, there will be dies for the coins. Coined silver will be +worth, twice the cost of the bullion to us. Why," he added eagerly, "a +few more successful days, Senora, and we shall have even arms and +ammunition." +</P> + +<P> +A key turned in the door. Santos sprang to his feet. It was Gordon. +</P> + +<P> +"Ah, good evening," the Captain greeted them. The fact that they had +been talking so earnestly alone was not lost on him. "May I join the +conspiracy?" he smiled. "What luck to-day? By the way, I have just +heard of a consignment of a thousand rifles as good as new that can be +bought for a song." +</P> + +<P> +Santos, elated at the progress so far, told hastily of Constance's +success. "Let us get an option on them for a few days," he cried. +</P> + +<P> +"Good," agreed Gordon, "only," he added, shaking his finger playfully +at Constance, as the three left the headquarters, "don't let the +commander-in-chief monopolize ALL your time, Remember, we all need you +now. Santos, that was an inspiration to get Mrs. Dunlap on our side." +</P> + +<P> +Somehow she felt uncomfortable. She half imagined that a frown had +flitted over Santos' face. +</P> + +<P> +"Are you going to Brooklyn?" she asked him. +</P> + +<P> +"No, we shall be working at the Junta late to-night," he replied, as +they parted at the subway, he and Gordon to secure the option on the +guns, she to plan for the morrow. +</P> + +<P> +"I have made a good beginning," she congratulated herself, when, later +in her rooms, she was going over the list of names of commission +merchants who handled produce of South American countries. +</P> + +<P> +There was a tap on the door. +</P> + +<P> +Quickly, she shoved the list into the drawer of the table. +</P> + +<P> +"A gentleman to see you, downstairs, ma'am," announced the maid. +</P> + +<P> +As she pushed aside the portieres, her heart gave a leap—it was +Drummond. +</P> + +<P> +"Mrs. Dunlap," began the wily detective, seeming to observe everything +with eyes that seldom had the appearance of looking at anything, "I +think you will recall that we have met before." +</P> + +<P> +Constance bit her lip. "And why again?" she queried curtly. +</P> + +<P> +"I am informed," he went on coolly ignoring her curtness, "that there +is a guest in this house named Santos—Ramon Santos." +</P> + +<P> +He said it in a half insinuating, half questioning tone. +</P> + +<P> +"You might inquire of the landlady," replied Constance, now perfectly +composed. +</P> + +<P> +"Mrs. Dunlap," he burst forth, exasperated, "what is the use of beating +about? Do you know the real character of this Santos!" +</P> + +<P> +"It is a matter of perfect indifference," she returned. +</P> + +<P> +"Then you do not think a warning from me worth troubling about?" +demanded the detective. +</P> + +<P> +Constance continued to stand as if to terminate the interview. +</P> + +<P> +"I came here," continued the detective showing no evidence of taking +the hint, "to make a proposition to you. Mrs. Dunlap, you are in bad +again. But this time there is a chance for you to get out without risk. +I—I think I may talk plainly? We understand each other!" +</P> + +<P> +His manner had changed. Constance could not have described to herself +the loathing she felt for the man as it suddenly flashed over her what +he was after. If she had resented his familiarity before, it brought +the stinging blood to her cheeks now to realize that he was actually +seeking to persuade her to betray her friends. +</P> + +<P> +"Do you want to know what I think?" she scorned, then without waiting +added, "I think you are a crook—a blackmailer,—that's what I think of +a private detective like you." +</P> + +<P> +The defiance of the little woman amazed even Drummond. Instead of fear +as of the pursued, Constance Dunlap showed all the boldness of the +pursuer. +</P> + +<P> +"You have got to stop this swindling," the detective raged, taking a +step closer to her. "I know the bankers you have fooled. I know how +much you have worked them for." +</P> + +<P> +"Swindling?" she repeated coolly, in assumed surprise. "Who says I am +swindling?" +</P> + +<P> +"You know well enough what I mean—this revolution that is being +planned to bring about the new state of Vespuccia, as your friends +Santos and Gordon call it." +</P> + +<P> +"Vespuccia—Santos—Gordon?" +</P> + +<P> +"Yes," he shouted, "Vespuccia—Santos—Gordon. And I'll go further. +I'll tell you something you may not care to hear." +</P> + +<P> +Drummond leaned over closer to her in his favorite bulldozing manner +when he dealt with a woman. All the malevolence of the human bloodhound +seemed concentrated in his look. +</P> + +<P> +"Who forged those Carlton Realty checks?" he hissed. "Who played off +the weakness of Dumont and Beverley against the clever thefts of Murray +Dodge! Who is using a counterfeiter and a soldier of fortune and +swindling honest American bankers and business men as no man crook—you +seem to like that word—crook—could ever do?" +</P> + +<P> +Constance met him calmly. "Oh," she laughed airily, "I suppose you mean +to imply that it is I." +</P> + +<P> +"I don't imply," he ground out, "I assert—accuse." +</P> + +<P> +Constance shrugged her pretty shoulders. +</P> + +<P> +"I want to tell you that I am employed by the Central American +consulates in this city," blustered Drummond. "And I am waiting only +for one thing. The moment an order is given for the withdrawal of that +stuff from the little shop in South Street—you know what I mean—I am +ready. I shall not be alone, then. You will have the power of the +United States Secret Service to deal with, this time, my clever lady." +</P> + +<P> +"Well, what of that?" +</P> + +<P> +"There is this much of it. I warn you now against working with this +Santos. He—you—can make no move that we do not know." +</P> + +<P> +Why had Drummond come to see her? Constance was asking herself. The +very insolence of the man seemed to arouse all the combativeness of her +nature. The detective had thought to "throw a scare into" her. She +turned suddenly and swept out of the room. +</P> + +<P> +"I thank you for your kindness," she said icily. "It is unnecessary. +Good-night." +</P> + +<P> +In her own room she paced the floor nervously, now that the strain was +off. Should she desert Santos and save herself? He had more need of her +help now than ever before. She did not stop to analyze her own +feelings. She knew he had been making love to her during the past week +as only a Spaniard could. It fascinated her without blinding her. Yes, +she would match her wits against this detective, clever though she knew +he was. But Santos must be warned. +</P> + +<P> +Santos and Gordon were alone when she burst in on them, breathlessly, +an hour later at the Junta. +</P> + +<P> +"What is the matter?" inquired Ramon quickly, placing a chair for her. +</P> + +<P> +Gordon looked his admiration for the little woman, though he did not +speak it. She saw him cast a sidewise glance at Santos and herself. +</P> + +<P> +Though the three were friends, it was evident to her that Gordon did +not trust Santos any further than the suspicious Anglo-Saxon trusts a +foreigner usually when there is a woman in the case. +</P> + +<P> +"The Secret Service!" exclaimed Constance. "I have just had a visit +from a private detective employed by one of the consulates. They know +too much. He has threatened to tell all to the Secret Service, has even +had the effrontery to ask me to betray you." +</P> + +<P> +"The scoundrel," burst out Santos impulsively. +</P> + +<P> +"You are not frightened?" Gordon asked quickly. +</P> + +<P> +"On the contrary, I expected something of the sort soon, but not from +this man. I can meet him!" +</P> + +<P> +"Good," exclaimed the Captain. +</P> + +<P> +There was that in his voice that caused her to look at him quickly. +Santos had noticed it, too, and a sullen scowl spread over his face. +</P> + +<P> +Intuitively Constance read the two men before her. She had fled from +one problem to a greater. Both Santos and Gordon were in love with her. +</P> + +<P> +In the whirl of this new discovery, two things alone crowded all else +from her mind. She must contrive to hold off Drummond until that part +of the expedition which was ready could be got off. And she must play +the jealous rivals against each other with such finesse as to keep them +separated. +</P> + +<P> +Far into the night after she had left the Junta she debated the +question with herself. She could not turn back now. The attentions of +Gordon were offensive. Yet she could have given no other reason than +that she liked Santos the better. Yet what was Santos to her, after +all? Once she had let herself go too far. She must be careful in this +case. She must not allow this to be other than a business proposition. +</P> + +<P> +The crisis for her came sooner than she had anticipated. It was the day +after the visit of Drummond. She was waiting at the Junta alone for +Santos when Gordon entered. She had dreaded just that. There was no +mistaking the man. +</P> + +<P> +"Mrs. Dunlap," began Gordon bending down close over her. +</P> + +<P> +She was almost trembling with emotion, and he saw it. +</P> + +<P> +"You can read me like a book," he hurried on, mistaking her feelings. +"I can see that you know how much I think of you—how much I—" +</P> + +<P> +"No, no," she implored. "Don't talk to me that way. Remember—there is +work to do. After it is over—then—" +</P> + +<P> +"Work!" he scorned. "What is the whole of Central America to me +compared to you?" +</P> + +<P> +"Captain Gordon!" she stood facing him. "You must not. Listen to me. +You do not know—I—please, please leave me. Let me think." +</P> + +<P> +She did not dare accept him; she could not reject him. It seemed that +with an almost superhuman effort Gordon gripped himself. But he did not +go. +</P> + +<P> +Constance was distracted, what if Santos with his fiery nature should +find Gordon talking to her alone? She must temporize. +</P> + +<P> +"One week," she murmured. "When the <I>Arroyo</I> sails—that night—I shall +give you my answer." +</P> + +<P> +Gordon shot a peculiar glance at her—half doubt, half surprise. But +she was gone. As she hurried unexpectedly out of the Junta she fancied +she caught a glimpse of a familiar figure. It must have been Drummond. +Every move at the Junta was being watched. +</P> + +<P> +At the boarding house all night she waited. She must see Santos. Plan +after plan whirled through her brain as the hours dragged. +</P> + +<P> +It was not until almost morning that, seeing a light, he tapped +cautiously at her door. +</P> + +<P> +"You were not at the Junta to-night," he remarked. +</P> + +<P> +There was something of jealousy in the tone. +</P> + +<P> +"No. There is something I wanted to say to you where we should not be +interrupted," she answered as he sat down. +</P> + +<P> +A fold of her filmy house dress fluttered near him. Involuntarily he +moved closer. His eyes met hers. She could feel the passions surging in +the man beside her. +</P> + +<P> +"I saw Drummond again, to-day," she began. "Captain Gordon—" +</P> + +<P> +The intense look of hatred that blazed in the eyes of Santos frightened +her. What might have happened if he instead of Gordon had met her at +the Junta she could not have said. But now she must guard against it. +It flashed over her that there was only one thing to be done. +</P> + +<P> +She rose and laid her hand on his arm. As quickly the look changed. +There was only one way to do it; she must make this man think they +understood each other without saying so. +</P> + +<P> +"You must get the counterfeiting plant down on the +island—immediately—alone. Don't tell any of the others until it is +there safely. You were going to send it down on the <I>Arroyo</I> next week. +It must not go from New York at all. It must be shipped by rail, and +then from New Orleans. You must—" +</P> + +<P> +"But—Gordon?" His voice was hoarse. +</P> + +<P> +She looked at Santos long and earnestly. "I will take care of him," she +said in a tone that Santos could not mistake. "No—Ramon, no. After the +revolution—perhaps—who shall say? But now—to work!" +</P> + +<P> +It was with a sigh of relief that she sank to rest at last when he had +gone. For the moment she had won. +</P> + +<P> +Piece by piece, Santos and she secretly carried out the goods that had +already been collected at the Junta, during the next few days. Without +a word to a soul they were shipped south. The boxes and barrels +remained in the musty shop, apparently undisturbed. +</P> + +<P> +Next the order for the arms and ammunition was quietly diverted so that +they, too, were on their way to New Orleans. Instead, cases resembling +them were sent to the Junta headquarters. Drummond, least of all, must +be allowed to think that there was any change in their plans. +</P> + +<P> +While Santos was at work gathering the parts, the stamping machine, the +press, the dies, the plates, and the rest of the counterfeiting plant +which had not yet been delivered, Constance, during the hours that she +was not collecting money from the concession-grabbers, haunted the +Junta. There was every evidence of activity there as the week advanced. +</P> + +<P> +She was between two fires, yet never had she enjoyed the tang of +adventure more than now. It was a keen pleasure to feel that she was +outwitting Drummond when, as some apparently insurmountable difficulty +arose, she would overcome it. More delicate was it, however, to +preserve the balance between Santos and Gordon. In fact it seemed that +the more she sought to avoid Gordon, the more jealously did he pursue +her. It was a tangled skein of romance and intrigue that Constance was +weaving. +</P> + +<P> +At last all was ready. It was the night before the departure of Santos +for the south. Constance had decided on the last interview in her own +rooms where the first had been. +</P> + +<P> +"I shall go ahead preparing as if to ship the things on the <I>Arroyo</I>," +she said. "Let me know by the code the moment you are ready." +</P> + +<P> +Santos was looking at her, oblivious of everything else. +</P> + +<P> +He reached over and took her hand. She knew this was the moment against +which she had steeled herself. +</P> + +<P> +"Come with me," he asked suddenly. +</P> + +<P> +She could feel his breath, hotly, on her cheek. +</P> + +<P> +It was the final struggle. If she let go of herself, all would be lost. +</P> + +<P> +"No, Ramon," she said softly, but without withdrawing her hand. "It can +never be—listen." +</P> + +<P> +It was terrific, to hold in check a nature such as his. +</P> + +<P> +"I went into this scheme for—for money. I have it. We have raised +nearly forty thousand dollars. Twenty thousand you have given me as my +share." +</P> + +<P> +She paused. He was paying no attention to her words. His whole self was +centered on her face. +</P> + +<P> +"With me," she continued, half wearily withdrawing her hand as she +assumed the part she had decided on for herself, "with me, Ramon, love +is dead—dead. I have seen too much of the world. Nothing has any +fascination for me now except excitement, money—" +</P> + +<P> +He gently leaned over and recovered the hand that she had withdrawn. +Quickly he raised it to his lips as he had done that first night. +</P> + +<P> +"You are mine," he whispered, "not his." +</P> + +<P> +She did not withdraw the hand this time. +</P> + +<P> +"No—not his—nobody's." +</P> + +<P> +For a moment the adventurers understood each other. +</P> + +<P> +"Not his," he muttered fiercely as he threw his arms about her wildly, +passionately. +</P> + +<P> +"Nobody's," she panted as she gave one answering caress, then struggled +from him. +</P> + +<P> +She had conquered not only Ramon Santos but Constance Dunlap. +</P> + +<P> +Early the next morning he was speeding southward over the clicking +rails. +</P> + +<P> +Every energy must be bent toward keeping the new scheme secret until it +was carried out successfully. Not a hint must get to Drummond that +there was any change in the activities of the Junta. As for the Junta +itself, there was no one of those who believed implicitly in Santos +whom Constance need fear, except Gordon. Gordon was the bete noire. +</P> + +<P> +Two days passed and she was able to guard the secret, as well as to act +as though nothing had happened. Santos had left a short note for the +Junta telling them that he would be away for a short time putting the +finishing touches on the purchase of the arms. The arrival of a +cartload of cases at the Junta, which Constance arranged for herself, +bore out the letter. Still, she waited anxiously for word from him. +</P> + +<P> +The day set for the sailing of the <I>Arroyo</I> arrived and with it at last +a telegram: "Buy corn, oats, wheat. Sell cotton." +</P> + +<P> +It was the code, telling of the safe arrival of the rifles, cartridges +and the counterfeiting plant in New Orleans, a little late, but safe. +"Sell cotton," meant "I sail to-night." +</P> + +<P> +On the way over to the Junta, she had noticed one of Drummond's shadows +dogging her. She must do anything to keep the secret until that night. +</P> + +<P> +She hurried into the dusty ship chandlery. There was Gordon. +</P> + +<P> +"Good morning, Mrs. Dunlap," he cried. "You are just the person I am +looking for. Where is Santos? Has the plan been changed?" +</P> + +<P> +Constance thought she detected a shade of jealousy in the tone. At any +rate, Gordon was more attentive than ever. +</P> + +<P> +"I think he is in Bridgeport," she replied as casually as she could. +"Your ship, you know, sails to-night. He has sent word to me to give +orders that all the goods here at the Junta be ready to cart over by +truck to Brooklyn. There has been no change. The papers are to be +signed during the day and she is to be scheduled to sail late in the +afternoon with the tide. Only, as you know, some pretext must delay +you. You will hold her at the pier for us. He trusts all that to you as +a master hand at framing such excuses that seem plausible." +</P> + +<P> +Gordon leaned over closer to her. He was positively revolting to her in +the role of admirer. But she must not offend him—yet. +</P> + +<P> +"And my answer!" he asked. +</P> + +<P> +There was something about him that made Constance almost draw away +involuntarily. +</P> + +<P> +"To-night—at the pier," she murmured forcing a smile. +</P> + +<P> +Shortly after dark the teams started their lumbering way across the +city and the bridge. Messengers, stationed on the way, were to report +the safe progress of the trucks to Brooklyn. +</P> + +<P> +Constance slipped away from the boardinghouse, down through the +deserted streets to the waterfront, leaving word at home that any +message was to be sent by a trusty boy to the pier. +</P> + +<P> +It was a foggy and misty night on the water, an ideal night for the +gun-runner. She was relieved to learn that there had been not a hitch +so far. Still, she reasoned, that was natural. Drummond, even if he had +not been outwitted, would scarcely have spoiled the game until the last +moment. +</P> + +<P> +On the <I>Arroyo</I> every one was chafing. Below decks, the engineer and +his assistants were seeing that the machinery was in perfect order. Men +in the streets were posted to give Gordon warning of any danger. +</P> + +<P> +In the river a tug was watching for a possible police boat. On the +wharf the only footfalls were those of Gordon himself and an assistant +from the Junta. It was dreary waiting, and Constance drew her coat more +closely around her, as she shivered in the night wind and tried to +brace herself against the unexpected. +</P> + +<P> +At last the welcome muffled rumble of heavily laden carts disturbed the +midnight silence of the street leading to the river. +</P> + +<P> +At once a score of men sprang from the hold of the ship, as if by +magic. One by one the cases were loaded. The men were working +feverishly by the light of battle lanterns—big lamps with reflectors +so placed as to throw the light exactly where it was needed and nowhere +else. They were taking aboard the <I>Arroyo</I> dozens of coffin-like wooden +cases, and bags and boxes, smaller and even heavier. Silently and +swiftly they toiled. +</P> + +<P> +It was risky work, too, at night and in the tense haste. There was a +muttered exclamation—a heavy case had dropped! a man had gone down +with a broken leg. +</P> + +<P> +It was a common thing with the gun-runners. The crew of the <I>Arroyo</I> +had expected it. The victim of such an accident could not be sent to a +hospital ashore. He was carried, as gently as the rough hands could +carry anything, to one side, where he lay silently waiting for the +ship's surgeon who had been engaged for just such an emergency. +Constance bent over and made the poor fellow as comfortable as she +could. There was never a whimper from him, but he looked his gratitude. +</P> + +<P> +Scarcely a fraction of a minute had been lost. The last cases were now +being loaded. The tug crawled up and made fast. Already the empty +trucks were vanishing in the misty darkness, one by one, as muffled as +they came. +</P> + +<P> +Suddenly lights flashed through the fog on the river. +</P> + +<P> +There was a hurried tread of feet on the land from around the corner of +a bleak, forbidding black warehouse. +</P> + +<P> +They were surrounded. On one side was the police boat Patrol. On the +other was Drummond. With both was the Secret Service. The surprise was +complete. +</P> + +<P> +Constance turned to Gordon. He was gone. +</P> + +<P> +Before she could move, some one seized her. +</P> + +<P> +"Where's Santos?" demanded a hoarse voice in her ear. She looked up to +see Drummond. +</P> + +<P> +She shut her lips tightly, secure in the secret that Ramon was at the +moment or soon would be on the Gulf, out of reach. +</P> + +<P> +Across in the fog she strained her eyes. Was that the familiar figure +of Gordon moving in the dim light? +</P> + +<P> +There he was, now,—with Drummond, the police, and the Secret Service. +It was exactly as she had suspected to herself, and a smile played over +her face. +</P> + +<P> +All was excitement, shouts, muttered imprecations. Constance was the +calmest in the crowd—deaf to even Drummond's "third degree." +</P> + +<P> +They had begun to break open the boxes marked "salt" and "corn." +</P> + +<P> +A loud exclamation above the sharp crunching of the axes escaped +Gordon. "Damn them! They've put one across on us!" +</P> + +<P> +The boxes of "salt" and "corn" contained—salt and corn. +</P> + +<P> +Not a stock of a rifle, not a barrel, not a cartridge was in any of +them as the axes crashed in one case after another. +</P> + +<P> +A boy with a telegram emerged indiscreetly from the misty shadows. +Drummond seized it, tore it open, and read, "Buy cotton." +</P> + +<P> +It was the code: "I am off safely." +</P> + +<P> +The double cross had worked. Constance was thinking, as she smiled to +herself, of the money, her share, which she had hidden. There was not a +scrap of tangible evidence against her, except what Santos had carried +with him in the filibustering expedition already off from New Orleans. +Her word would stand against that of all of the victims combined before +any jury that could be empaneled. +</P> + +<P> +"You thought I needed a warning," she cried, facing Drummond with eyes +that flashed scorn at the skulking figure of Gordon behind him. "But +the next time you employ a stool-pigeon to make love," she added, +"reckon in that thing you detectives scorn—a woman's intuition." +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap04"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER IV +</H3> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +THE GAMBLERS +</H3> + +<P> +"Won't you come over to see me to-night? Just a friendly little game, +my dear—our own crowd, you know." +</P> + +<P> +There was something in the purring tone of the invitation of the woman +across the hall from Constance Dunlap's apartment that aroused her +curiosity. +</P> + +<P> +"Thank you. I believe I will," answered Constance. "It's lonely in a +big city without friends." +</P> + +<P> +"Indeed it is," agreed Bella LeMar. "I've been watching you for some +time and wondering how you stand it. Now be sure to come, won't you?" +</P> + +<P> +"I shall be glad to do so," assured Constance, as they reached their +floor and parted at the elevator door. +</P> + +<P> +She had been watching the other woman, too, although she had said +nothing about it. +</P> + +<P> +"A friendly little game," repeated Constance to herself. "That sounds +as if it had the tang of an adventure in it. I'll go." +</P> + +<P> +The Mayfair Arms, in which she had taken a modest suite of rooms, was a +rather recherche apartment, and one of her chief delights since she had +been there had been in watching the other occupants. +</P> + +<P> +There had been much to interest her in the menage across the hall. Mrs. +Bella LeMar, as she called herself, was of a type rather common in the +city, an attractive widow on the safe side of forty, well-groomed, +often daringly gowned. Her brown eyes snapped vivacity, and the pert +little nose and racy expression of the mouth confirmed the general +impression that Mrs. LeMar liked the good things of life. +</P> + +<P> +Quite naturally, Constance observed, her neighbor had hosts of friends +who often came early and stayed late, friends who seemed to exude, as +it were, an air of prosperity and high living. Clearly, she was a woman +to cultivate. Constance felt even more interest in her, now that Mrs. +LeMar had pursued a bowing acquaintance to the point of an unsolicited +invitation. +</P> + +<P> +"A friendly little game," she speculated. "What IS the game?" +</P> + +<P> + That night found Constance at the buzzer beside the heavy mahogany<BR> +door across the hall. She wore a new evening gown of warm red. Her face +glowed with heightened color, and her nerves were on the qui vive for +the unlocking at last of the mystery of the fascinating Mrs. LeMar. +</P> + +<P> +"So glad to see you, my dear," smiled Bella, holding out her hand +engagingly. "You are just in time." +</P> + +<P> +Already several of the guests had arrived. There was an air of bonhomie +as Bella presented them to Constance—a stocky, red-faced man with a +wide chest and narrow waist, Ross Watson; a tall, sloping-shouldered +man who inclined his head forward earnestly when he talked to a lady +and spoke with animation, Haddon Halsey; and a fair-haired, baby-blue +eyed little woman gowned in becoming pink, Mrs. Lansing Noble. +</P> + +<P> +"Now we're all here—just enough for a game," remarked Bella in a +business-like tone. "Oh, I beg pardon—you play, Mrs. Dunlap?" she +added to Constance. +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, yes," Constance replied. "Almost anything—a little bit." +</P> + +<P> +She had already noted that the chief object in the room, after all, +appeared to be a round table. About it the guests seemed naturally to +take their places. +</P> + +<P> +"What shall it be to-night—bridge?" asked Watson, nonchalantly +fingering a little pack of gilt-edged cards which Bella had produced. +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, no," cried Mrs. Noble. "Bridge is such a bore." +</P> + +<P> +"Rum?" +</P> + +<P> +"No—no. The regular game—poker." +</P> + +<P> +"A dollar limit?" +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, make it five," drawled Halsey impatiently. +</P> + +<P> +Watson said nothing, but Bella patted Halsey's hand in approval, as if +all were on very good terms indeed. "I think that will make a nice +little game," she cut in, opening a drawer from which she took out a +box of blue, red and white chips of real ivory. Watson seemed naturally +to assume the role of banker. +</P> + +<P> +"Aren't you going to join us?" asked Constance. +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, I seldom play. You know, I'm too busy entertaining you people," +excused Bella, as she bustled out of the room, reappearing a few +minutes later with the maid and a tray of slender hollow-stemmed +glasses with a bottle wrapped in a white napkin in a pail of ice. +</P> + +<P> + Mrs. Noble shuffled the cards with practiced hand and Watson kept a<BR> +calculating eye on every face. Luck was not with Constance on the first +deal and she dropped out. +</P> + +<P> +Mrs. Noble and Halsey were betting eagerly. Watson was coolly following +along until the show-down—which he won. +</P> + +<P> +"Of all things," exclaimed the little woman in pink, plainly betraying +her vexation at losing. "Will luck never turn?" +</P> + +<P> +Halsey said nothing. +</P> + +<P> +Constance watched in amazement. This was no "friendly little game." The +faces were too tense, too hectic. The play was too high, and the desire +to win too great. Mrs. LeMar was something more than a gracious hostess +in her solicitude for her guests. +</P> + +<P> +All the time the pile of chips in front of Watson kept building up. At +each new deal a white chip was placed in a little box—the kitty—for +the "cards and refreshments." +</P> + +<P> +It was in reality one of the new style gambling joints for men and +women. +</P> + +<P> +The gay parties of callers on Mrs. LeMar were nothing other than +gamblers. The old gambling dens of the icebox doors and steel gratings, +of white-coated servants and free food and drink, had passed away with +"reform." Here was a remarkable new phase of sporting life which had +gradually taken its place. +</P> + +<P> +Constance had been looking about curiously in the meantime. On a table +she saw copies of the newspapers which published full accounts of the +races, something that looked like a racing sheet, and a telephone +conveniently located near writing materials. It was a poolroom, too, +then, in the daytime, she reasoned. +</P> + +<P> +Surely, in the next room, when the light was on, she saw what looked +like a miniature roulette wheel, not one of the elaborate affairs of +bright metal and ebony, but one of those that can almost be packed into +a suitcase and carried about easily. +</P> + +<P> +That was the secret of the flashily dressed men and women who called on +Bella LeMar. They were risking everything, perhaps even honor itself, +on a turn of a wheel, the fall of a card, a guess on a horse. +</P> + +<P> +Why had Bella LeMar invited her here? she asked herself. +</P> + +<P> +At first Constance was a little bit afraid that she might have plunged +into too deep water. She made up her mind to quit when her losses +reached a certain nominal point. But they did not reach it. Perhaps the +gamblers were too clever. But Constance seemed always to keep just a +little bit ahead of the game. +</P> + +<P> +One person in particular in the group interested her as she endeavored +intuitively to take their measure. It was Haddon Halsey, immaculately +garbed, with all those little touches of smartness which women like to +see. +</P> + +<P> +Once she caught Halsey looking intently at her. Was it he who was +letting her win at his expense! Or was his attention to her causing him +to neglect his own game and play it poorly? +</P> + +<P> +She decided to quit. She was a few dollars ahead. For excuse she +pleaded a headache. +</P> + +<P> +Bella accepted the excuse with a cordial nod and a kind inquiry whether +she might not like to lie down. +</P> + +<P> +"No, thank you," murmured Constance. "But the cards make me nervous +to-night. Just let me sit here. I'll be all right in a minute." +</P> + +<P> +As she lolled back on a divan near the players Constance noted, or +thought she noted, now and then exchanges of looks between Bella and +Watson. What was the bond of intimacy between them? She noted on Mrs. +Noble's part that she was keenly alive to everything that Halsey did. +It was a peculiar quadrangle. +</P> + +<P> +Halsey was losing heavily in his efforts to retrieve his fortunes. He +said nothing, but accepted the losses grimly. Mrs. Noble, however, +after each successive loss seemed more and more nervous. +</P> + +<P> +At last, with a hasty look at her wrist watch, she gave a little +suppressed scream. +</P> + +<P> +"How the time flies!" she cried. "Who would have thought it as late as +that? Really I must go. I expect my husband back from a director's +meeting at ten, and it's much easier to be home than to have to think +up an excuse. No, Haddon, don't disturb yourself. I shall get a cab at +the door. Let me see—two hundred and twenty-eight dollars." She paused +as if the loss staggered her. "I'll have to sign another I O U for it, +Bella. There!" +</P> + +<P> +She left in a flutter, as if some one had winked out the light by which +she, poor little butterfly, had singed her wings, and there was nothing +for her but to fly away alone in the darkness with her secret. +</P> + +<P> +Halsey accompanied her to the door. For a moment she raised a +questioning face to his, and shot a half covert glance at Constance. +Then, as if with an effort, adhering to her first resolution to go +alone, she whispered earnestly, "I hope you win. Luck MUST turn." +</P> + +<P> +Halsey plunged back into the game, now with Bella holding a hand. He +played recklessly, then conservatively. It made no difference. The +cards seemed always against him. Constance began really to feel alarmed +at his manner. +</P> + +<P> +Once, however, he chanced to look up at her. Something in her face must +have impressed him. Turning, he flung down the cards in disgust. +"That's enough for to-night," he exclaimed, rising and draining another +glass on the tray. +</P> + +<P> +"Luck will come your way soon again," urged Bella. "It all averages up +in the end, you know. It has to." +</P> + +<P> +"How did you enjoy the evening!" insinuated Bella. +</P> + +<P> +"Very much," replied Constance enthusiastically. "It is so exciting, +you know." +</P> + +<P> +"You must come again when more of my friends are here." +</P> + +<P> +"I should like to. But to-night was very nice." +</P> + +<P> +Halsey looked at her contemplatively. She had risen to go. As she took +a step or two toward the door, still facing them, she found Halsey at +her side. +</P> + +<P> +"Shall we go over to Jack's for a bite to eat?" he whispered. +</P> + +<P> +There was as much of appeal in his undertone as of invitation. +</P> + +<P> +"Thank you. I shall be glad to go," Constance assented quickly. +</P> + +<P> +There was something about Haddon Halsey that interested her. Perhaps +Bella and Watson exchanged a knowing glance as she crossed the hall for +her wraps. Whatever it was, Constance determined to see the thing +through to a finish, confident that she was quite able to take care of +herself. +</P> + +<P> +Outside the raw night air smote dankly on their fevered faces. As they +walked along briskly, too glad to get into the open to summon a car, +Constance happened to turn. She had an uncomfortable feeling. She could +have sworn some one was following them. She said nothing about a figure +a few feet behind them. +</P> + +<P> +The lively, all-night restaurant was thronged. Halsey seemed to throw +himself into the gayety with reckless abandon, ordering about twice as +much as they could eat and drink. But in spite of the fascination of +the scene, Constance could not forget the dark figure skulking behind +them in the shadow of the street. +</P> + +<P> +Once she looked up. At another table she could just catch a glimpse of +Drummond, of the Burr Detective Agency, alone, oblivious. +</P> + +<P> +Never did he look at them. There was nothing to indicate that he was +even interested. But Constance knew that that was the method of his +shadowing. Never for a moment, she knew, did he permit himself to look +into the eyes of his quarry, even for the most fleeting glance. +</P> + +<P> +She knew, too, that there must be some psychological reason for his not +looking at them, as he otherwise must have done, if only by chance. It +was the method followed by the expert modern trailer. She knew that if +one looks at a person intently while in a public place, for instance, +it will not be long before the gaze will be returned. Try as she would, +she could not catch Drummond's eye, however. +</P> + +<P> +Halsey, now that the strain of the game was off, was rattling along +about his losses in an undertone to her. +</P> + +<P> +"But what of it?" he concluded. "Any day luck may change. As for +myself, I go always on the assumption that I am the one +exception—unlucky both at cards and love. If the event proves I am +right, I am not disappointed. If I am wrong, then I am happy." +</P> + +<P> +There was something in the tone of the whimsicality that alarmed her. +It covered a desperation which she felt instinctively. +</P> + +<P> +Why was he talking thus to her, almost a stranger? Surely it could not +have been for that that Bella LeMar had brought them together. +</P> + +<P> +Gradually it came to her. The man had really, honestly been struck by +her from the moment of their introduction. Instead of allowing others, +to say nothing of himself, to lead her on in the path he and Mrs. Noble +and the others had entered, he was taking the bit in his teeth, like a +high-strung race horse, and was running away, now that Bella LeMar for +the moment did not hold the reins. He was warning her openly against +the game! +</P> + +<P> +Somehow the action appealed to Constance. It was genuine, +disinterested. Secretly, it was flattering. Still, she said nothing +about Bella, nor about Mrs. Noble. Halsey seemed to appreciate the +fact. His face showed plainly as if he had said it that here, at least, +was one woman who was not always talking about others. +</P> + +<P> +There had been a rapid-fire suddenness about his confidences which had +fascinated her. +</P> + +<P> +"Are you in business?" she ventured. +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, yes," he laughed grimly. "I'm in business—treasurer of the +Exporting & Manufacturing Company." +</P> + +<P> +"But," she pursued, looking him frankly in the face, "I should think +you'd be afraid to—er—become involved—" +</P> + +<P> +"I know I am being watched," he broke in impatiently. "You see, I'm +bonded, and the bonding companies keep a pretty sharp lookout on your +habits. Oh, the crash will come some day. Until it does—let us make +the most of it—while it lasts." +</P> + +<P> +He said the words bitterly. Constance was confirmed in her original +suspicion of him now. Halsey was getting deeper and deeper into the +moral quagmire. She had seen his interest in Mrs. Noble. Had Bella +LeMar hoped that she, too, would play will-o '-the-wisp in leading him +on? +</P> + +<P> +Over the still half-eaten supper she watched Halsey keenly. A thousand +questions about himself, about Mrs. Noble, rushed through her mind. +Should she be perfectly frank? +</P> + +<P> +"Are you—are you using the company's money!" she asked at length +pointedly. +</P> + +<P> +He had not expected the question, and his evident intention was to deny +it. But he met her eye. He tried to escape it, but could not. What was +there about this little woman that had compelled his attention and +interest from the moment he had been introduced? +</P> + +<P> +Quickly he tried to reason it out in his heart. It was not that she was +physically attractive to him. Mrs. Noble was that. It was not that +fascination which Bella aroused, the adventuress, the siren, the +gorgon. In Constance there was something different. She was a woman of +the world, a man's woman. Then, too, she was so brutally frank in +inviting his confidences. +</P> + +<P> +Over and over he turned the answer he had intended to make. He caught +her eye again and knew that it was of no use. +</P> + +<P> +"Yes," he muttered, as a cloud spread over his face at not being able, +as usual, to let the gay life put the truth out of his mind. "Yes, I +have been using—their funds." +</P> + +<P> +As if a switch had been turned, the light broke on Constance. She saw +herself face to face with one of the dark shadows in the great city of +high lights. +</P> + +<P> +"How?" she asked simply, leaning forward over the table. +</P> + +<P> +There was no resisting her. Quickly he told her all. +</P> + +<P> +"At first with what little money of my own I had I played. Then I began +to sign I O U's and notes. Now I have been taking blank stock +certificates, some of those held as treasury stock in the company's +safe. They have never been issued, so that by writing in the signatures +of myself and the other officers necessary, I have been able to use it +to pay off my losses in gambling." +</P> + +<P> +As he unfolded to her the plan which he had adopted, Constance listened +in amazement. +</P> + +<P> +"And you know that you are watched," she repeated, changing the +subject, and sensing rather than seeing that Drummond was watching them +then. +</P> + +<P> +"Yes," he continued freely. "The International Surety, in which I'm +bonded, has a sort of secret service of its own, I understand. It is +the eye that is never closed, but is screened from the man under bond. +When you go into the Broadway night life too often, for instance," he +pursued, waving his hand about at the gay tables, "run around in fast +motors with faster company—well, they know it. Who is watching, I do +not know. But with me it will be as it has been when others came to the +end. Some day they will come to me, and they are going to say, 'We +don't like your conduct. Where do you get this money?' They will know, +then, too. But before that time comes I want to win, to be in a +position to tell them to go—" +</P> + +<P> +Halsey clenched his fist. It was evident that he did not intend to +quit, no matter what the odds against him. +</P> + +<P> +Constance thought of the silent figure of Drummond at the other +table—watching, watching. She felt sure that it was to him that the +Surety Company had turned over the work of shadowing Halsey. Day after +day, probably, the unobtrusive detective had been trailing Halsey from +the moment he left his apartment until the time when he returned, if he +did return. There was nothing of his goings and comings that was not +already an open book to them. Of what use was it, then, for Halsey to +fight! +</P> + +<P> +It was a situation such as she delighted in. She had made up her mind. +She would help Haddon Halsey to beat the law. +</P> + +<P> +Already it seemed as if he knew that their positions had been reversed. +He had started to warn her; she now was saving him. +</P> + +<P> +Yet even then he showed the better side of his nature. +</P> + +<P> +"There is some one else, Mrs. Dunlap," he remarked earnestly, "who +needs your help even more than I do." +</P> + +<P> +It had cost him something to say that. He had not been able to accept +her help, even under false pretenses. Eagerly he watched to see whether +jealousy of the other woman played any part with her. +</P> + +<P> +"I understand," she said with a hasty glance at her watch and a covert +look at Drummond. "Let us go. If we are to win we must keep our heads +clear. I shall see you to-morrow." +</P> + +<P> +For hours during the rest of the night Constance tossed fitfully in +half sleep, thinking over the problem she had assumed. +</P> + +<P> +How was she to get at the inside truth of what was going on across the +hall? That was the first question. +</P> + +<P> +In her perplexity, she rose and looked out of the window at the now +lightening gray of the courtyard. There dangled the LeMar telephone +wire, only a few feet from her own window. +</P> + +<P> +Suddenly an idea flashed over her. In her leisure she had read much and +thought more. She recalled having heard of a machine that just fitted +her needs. +</P> + +<P> +As soon as she was likely to find places of business open Constance +started out on her search. It was early in the forenoon before she +returned, successful. The machine which she had had in mind proved to +be an oak box, perhaps eighteen inches long, by half the width, and a +foot deep. On its face it bore a little dial. Inside there appeared a +fine wire on a spool which unwound gradually by clockwork, and, after +passing through a peculiar small arrangement, was wound up on another +spool. Flexible silk-covered copper wires led from the box. +</P> + +<P> +Carefully Constance reached across the dizzy intervening space, and +drew in the slack LeMar telephone wires. With every care she cut into +them as if she were making an extension, and attached the wires from +the box. +</P> + +<P> +Perhaps half an hour later the door buzzer sounded. Constance could +scarcely restrain her surprise as Mrs. Lansing Noble stepped in quickly +and shut the door herself. +</P> + +<P> +"I don't want her to know I'm here," she whispered, nodding across the +hall. +</P> + +<P> +"Won't you take off your things?" asked Constance cordially. +</P> + +<P> +"No, I can't stay," returned her visitor nervously, pausing. +</P> + +<P> +Constance wondered why she had come. Was she, too, trying to warn a +newcomer against the place! +</P> + +<P> +She said nothing, but now that the effort had been made and the little +woman had gone actually so far, she felt the reaction. She sank down +into an easy chair and rested her pretty head on her delicately gloved +hand. +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, Mrs. Dunlap," she began convulsively, "I hope you will pardon an +entire stranger for breaking in on you so informally—but—but I +can't—I can't help it. I must tell some one." +</P> + +<P> +Accustomed as she was now to strange confidences, Constance bent over +and patted the little hand of Mrs. Noble comfortingly. +</P> + +<P> +"You seemed to take it so coolly," went on the other woman. "For me the +glamour, the excitement are worse than champagne. But you could stop, +even when you were winning. Oh, my God! What am I to do? What will +happen when my husband finds out what I have done!" +</P> + +<P> +Tearfully, the little woman poured out the sordid story of her +fascination for the game, of her losses, of the pawning of her jewels +to pay her losses and keep them secret, if only for a few days, until +that mythical time when luck would change. +</P> + +<P> +"When I started," she blurted out with a bitter little laugh, "I +thought I'd make a little pin money. That's how I began—with that and +the excitement. And now this is the end." +</P> + +<P> +She had risen and was pacing the floor wildly. +</P> + +<P> +"Mrs. Dunlap," she cried, pausing before Constance, "to-day I am +nothing more nor less than a 'capper,' as they call it, for a gambling +resort." +</P> + +<P> +She was almost hysterical. The contrast with the gay, respectable, +prosperous-looking woman at Bella's was appalling. Constance realized +to the full what were the tragedies that were enacted elsewhere. +</P> + +<P> +As she looked at the despairing woman, she could reconstruct the +terrible situation. Cultivated, well-bred, fashionably gowned, a woman +like Mrs. Noble served admirably the purpose of luring men on. If there +had been only women or only men involved, it perhaps would not have +been so bad. But there were both. Constance saw that men were wanted, +men who could afford to lose not hundreds, but thousands, men who are +always the heaviest players. And so Mrs. Noble and other unfortunate +women no doubt were sent out on Broadway to the cafes and restaurants, +sent out even among those of their own social circle, always to lure +men on, to involve themselves more and more in the web into which they +had flown. Bella had hoped even to use Constance! +</P> + +<P> +Mrs. Noble had paused again. There was evident sincerity in her as she +looked deeply into the eyes of Constance. +</P> + +<P> +Nothing but desperation could have wrung her inmost secrets from her to +another woman. +</P> + +<P> +"I saw them trying to throw you together with Haddon Halsey," she said, +almost tragically. "It was I who introduced Haddon to them. I was to +get a percentage of his losses to pay off my own—but"—her feelings +seemed to overcome her and wildly, desperately, she added—"but I +can't—I can't. I—I must rescue him—I must." +</P> + +<P> +It was a strange situation. Constance reasoned it out quickly. What a +wreck of life these two were making! Not only they were involved, but +others who as yet knew nothing, Mrs. Noble's husband, the family of +Halsey. She must help. +</P> + +<P> +"Mrs. Noble," said Constance calmly, "can you trust me?" +</P> + +<P> +She shot a quick glance at Constance. "Yes," she murmured. +</P> + +<P> +"Then to-night visit Mrs. LeMar as though nothing had happened. +Meanwhile I will have thought out a plan." +</P> + +<P> +It was late in the afternoon when Constance saw Halsey again, this time +in his office, where he had been waiting impatiently for some word from +her. The relief at seeing her showed only too plainly on his face. +</P> + +<P> +"This inaction is killing me," he remarked huskily. "Has anything +happened to-day!" +</P> + +<P> +She said nothing about the visit of Mrs. Noble. Perhaps it was better +that each should not know yet that the other was worried. +</P> + +<P> +"Yes," she replied, "much has happened. I cannot tell you now. But +to-night let us all go again as though nothing had occurred." +</P> + +<P> +"They have twenty-five thousand dollars in stock certificates already +which I have given them," he remarked anxiously. +</P> + +<P> +"Some way—any way, you must get them back for a time. Let me see some +of the blanks." +</P> + +<P> +Halsey shut the door. From a secret drawer of his desk he drew a +package of beautifully engraved paper. +</P> + +<P> +Constance looked at it a moment. Then with a fountain pen, across the +front of each, she made a few marks. Halsey looked on eagerly. As she +handed them back to him, not a sign showed on any part of them. +</P> + +<P> +"You must tell them that there is something wrong with the others, that +you will give them other certificates of your own about which there is +no question. Tell them anything to get them back. Here—take this other +fountain pen, sign the new certificates with that, in their presence so +that they will suspect nothing. To-night I shall expect you to play up +to the limit, to play into Mrs. Noble's hand and assume her losses, +too. I shall meet you there at nine."' +</P> + +<P> +Constance had laid her plans quickly. That night she waited in her own +apartment until she heard Halsey enter across the hall. She had +determined to give him plenty of time to obtain the old forged +certificates and substitute for them the new forgeries. +</P> + +<P> +Perhaps half an hour later she heard Mrs. Noble enter. As Constance +followed her in, the effusive greeting of Bella LeMar showed that as +yet she suspected nothing. A quick glance at Halsey brought an +answering nod and an unconscious motion toward his pocket where he had +stuffed the old certificates carelessly. +</P> + +<P> +A moment later they had plunged into the game. The play that night was +spirited. Soon the limit was the roof. +</P> + +<P> +From the start things seemed to run against Halsey and Mrs. Noble even +worse than before. At the same time fortune seemed to favor Constance. +Again and again she won, until even Watson seemed to think there was +something uncanny about it. +</P> + +<P> +"Beginner's luck," remarked Bella with a forced laugh. +</P> + +<P> +Still Constance won, not much, but steadily, though not enough to +offset the larger winnings of Watson. +</P> + +<P> +Fast and furious became the play and as steadily did it go against +Halsey. Mrs. Noble retired, scarcely repressing the tears. Constance +dropped out. Only Halsey and Watson remained, fighting as if it were a +duel to the death. +</P> + +<P> +"Please stop, Halsey," pleaded Mrs. Noble. "What is the use of tempting +fortune?" +</P> + +<P> +An insane half light seemed to glow in his eyes as, with a quick glance +at Constance and a covert nod of approval from her, he forced a smile +and playfully laid his finger on Mrs. Noble's lips. +</P> + +<P> +"Double or quits, Watson," he cried. "Return the new certificates or +take others for twice the amount. Are you game?" +</P> + +<P> +"I'm on," agreed Watson coolly. +</P> + +<P> +Halsey laid down his hand in triumph. There were four kings. +</P> + +<P> +"I win," ground out Watson viciously, as he tossed down four aces. +</P> + +<P> +Constance was on her feet in a moment. +</P> + +<P> +"You are a lot of cheats and swindlers," she cried, seizing the cards +before any one could interfere. +</P> + +<P> +Deftly she laid out the four aces beside the four deuces, the four +kings beside the four queens. It was done so quickly that even Halsey, +in his amazement, could find nothing to say. Mrs. Noble paled and was +speechless. As for Bella and Watson, nothing could have aroused them +more than the open charge that they were using false devices. +</P> + +<P> +Yet never for a moment did Watson lose his iron cynicism. +</P> + +<P> +"Prove it," he demanded. "As for Mr. Halsey, he may pay or I'll show +the stock I already hold to the proper people." +</P> + +<P> +Constance was facing Watson, as calm as he. +</P> + +<P> +"Show it," she said quietly. +</P> + +<P> +There was a knock at the door. +</P> + +<P> +"Don't let any one in," ordered Bella of the maid, who had already +opened the door. +</P> + +<P> +A man's foot had been inserted into the opening. "What's the matter, +Chloe?" +</P> + +<P> +"Good Lawd, Mis' Bella—we done been raided!" burst out the maid as the +door flew wholly open. +</P> + +<P> +Halsey staggered back. "A detective!" he exclaimed. +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, what shall I do!" wailed Mrs. Noble. "My husband will never +forgive me if this becomes known." +</P> + +<P> +Bella was as calm as a good player with a royal straight flush. +</P> + +<P> +"I've caught you at last," fairly hissed Drummond. "And you, too, Mrs. +Dunlap. Watson, I overheard something about some stock. Let me see it. +I think it will interest International Surety as well as Exporters and +Manufacturers." +</P> + +<P> +Through the still open door Constance had darted across the hall to her +apartment. +</P> + +<P> +"Not so fast," cried Drummond. "You can't escape. The front door is +guarded. You can't get out." +</P> + +<P> +She was gone, but a moment later emerged from the darkness of her +rooms, carrying the oak box. +</P> + +<P> +As she set it down on the card table, no one said a word. Deliberately +she opened the box, disclosing two spools of wire inside. To the +machine she attached several head pieces such as a telephone operator +wears. She turned a switch and the wire began to unroll from one spool +and wind up on the other again. +</P> + +<P> +A voice, or rather voices, seemed to come from the box itself. It was +uncanny. +</P> + +<P> +"Hello, is this Mrs. LeMar?" came from it. +</P> + +<P> +"What is it?" whispered Halsey, as if fearful of being overheard. +</P> + +<P> +"A telegraphone," replied Constance, shutting it off for a moment. +</P> + +<P> +"A telegraphone? What is that?" +</P> + +<P> +"A machine for registering telephone conversations, dictation, anything +of the sort you wish. It was invented by Valdemar Poulsen, the Danish +Edison. This is one of his new wire machines. The record is made by a +new process, localized charges of magnetism on this wire. It is as +permanent as the wire itself. There is only one thing that can destroy +them—rubbing over the wire with this magnet. Listen." +</P> + +<P> +She had started the machine again. Whose voice was it calling Bella? +Constance was looking fixedly at Drummond. He shifted uneasily. +</P> + +<P> +"How much is he in for now?" pursued the voice. +</P> + +<P> +Halsey gasped. It was Drummond's own voice. +</P> + +<P> +"Two hundred and fifty shares," replied Bella's voice. +</P> + +<P> +"Good. Keep at him. Don't lose him. To-night I'll drop in." +</P> + +<P> +"And your client will make good?" she anxiously. +</P> + +<P> +"Absolutely. We will pay five thousand dollars for the evidence that +will convict him." +</P> + +<P> +Constance's little audience was stunned. But she did not let the +telegraphone pause. Skipping some unimportant calls, she began again. +</P> + +<P> +This was a call from Bella to Watson. +</P> + +<P> +"Ross, that fellow Drummond called up to-day." +</P> + +<P> +"Yes?" +</P> + +<P> +"He is going to pull it off to-night. His client will make good—five +thousand if they catch Halsey with the goods. How about it?" +</P> + +<P> +"Pretty soft—eh, Bella?" came back from Watson. +</P> + +<P> +"My God! it's a plant!" exclaimed Halsey, staggering and dropping +heavily into a chair. "I'm ruined. There is no way out!" +</P> + +<P> +"Wait," interrupted Constance. "Here's another call. It may serve to +explain why luck was with me to-night. I came prepared." +</P> + +<P> +"Yes, Mrs. LeMar," came another strange voice from the machine. "We'd +do anything for Mr. Watson. What is it—a pack of strippers?" +</P> + +<P> +"Yes. The aces stripped from the ends, the kings from the sides." +</P> + +<P> +The group looked eagerly at Constance. +</P> + +<P> +"From the maker of fake gambling apparatus, I find," she explained, +shutting off the machine. "They were ordering from him cards cut or +trimmed so that certain ones could be readily drawn from the deck, or +'stripped.' Small wedge-shaped strips are trimmed off the edges of all +the other cards, leaving the aces, say, projecting just the most minute +fraction of an inch beyond the others. Everything is done carefully. +The rounded edges at the corners are recut to look right. When the +cards are shuffled the aces protrude a trifle over the edges of the +other cards. It is a simple matter for the dealer to draw or strip out +as many aces as he wants, stack them on the bottom of the pack as he +shuffles the cards, and draw them from the bottom whenever he wants +them. Strippers are one of the newest things in swindling. Marked cards +are out of date. But some decks have the aces stripped from the ends, +the kings from the sides. With this pack, as you can see, a sucker can +be dealt out the kings, while the house player gets the aces." +</P> + +<P> +Drummond brazened it out. With a muttered oath he turned to Watson +again. "What rot is this? The stock, Watson," he repeated. "Where is +that stock I heard them talking about?" +</P> + +<P> +Mrs. Noble, forgetting all now but Halsey, paled. Bella LeMar was +fumbling at her gold mesh bag. She gave a sudden, suppressed little +scream. +</P> + +<P> +"Look!" she cried. "They are blank—those stock certificates he gave +me." +</P> + +<P> +Drummond seized them roughly from her hands. +</P> + +<P> +Where the signatures should have been there was nothing at all! +</P> + +<P> +Across the face of the stock were the words in deep black, "SAMPLE +CERTIFICATE," written in an angular, feminine hand. +</P> + +<P> +What did it mean? Halsey was as amazed as any of them. Mechanically he +turned to Constance. +</P> + +<P> +"I didn't say anything last night," she remarked incisively. "But I had +my suspicions from the first. I always look out for the purry kind of +'my dear' woman. They have claws. Last night I watched. To-day I +learned—learned that you, Mr. Drummond, were nothing but a +blackmailer, using these gamblers to do your dirty work. Haddon, they +would have thrown you out like a squeezed lemon as soon as the money +you had was gone. They would have taken the bribe that Drummond offered +for the stock—and they would have left you nothing but jail. I learned +all that over the telegraphone. I learned their methods and, knowing +them, even I could not be prevented from winning to-night." +</P> + +<P> +Halsey moved as if to speak. "But," he asked eagerly, "the stock +certificates—what of them!" +</P> + +<P> +"The stock?" she answered with deliberation. "Did you ever hear that +writing in quinoline will appear blue, but will soon fade away, while +other writing in silver nitrate and ammonia, invisible at first, after +a few hours appears black? You wrote on those certificates in +sympathetic ink that fades, I in ink that comes up soon." +</P> + +<P> +Mrs. Noble was crying softly to herself. They still had her notes for +thousands. +</P> + +<P> +Halsey saw her. Instantly he forgot his own case. What was to be done +about her? He telegraphed a mute appeal to Constance, forgetful of +himself now. Constance was fingering the switch of the telegraphone. +</P> + +<P> +"Drummond," remarked Constance significantly, as though other secrets +might still be contained in the marvelous little mechanical detective, +"Drummond, don't you think, for the sake of your own reputation as a +detective, it might be as well to keep this thing quiet?" +</P> + +<P> +For a moment the detective gripped his wrath and seemed to consider the +damaging record of his conversation with Bella LeMar. +</P> + +<P> +"Perhaps," he agreed sullenly. +</P> + +<P> +Constance reached into her chatelaine. From it she drew an ordinary +magnet, and slowly pulled off the armature. +</P> + +<P> +"If I run this over the wires," she hinted, holding it near the spools, +"the record will be wiped out." She paused impressively. "Let me have +those I O U's of Mrs. Noble's. By the way, you might as well give me +that blank stock, too. There is no use in that, now." +</P> + +<P> +As she laid the papers in a pile on the table before her she added the +old forged certificates from Halsey's pocket. There it lay, the +incriminating, ruining evidence. +</P> + +<P> +Deliberately she passed the magnet over the thin steel wire, wiping out +what it had recorded, as if the recording angel were blotting out from +the book of life. +</P> + +<P> +"Try it, Drummond," she cried, dropping on her knees before the open +fireplace. "You will find the wire a blank." +</P> + +<P> +There was a hot, sudden blaze as the pile of papers from the table +flared up. +</P> + +<P> +"There," she exclaimed. "These gambling debts were not even debts of +honor. If you will call a cab, Haddon, I have reserved a table at +Jade's for you and Mrs. Noble. It is a farewell. Drummond will not +occupy his place in the corner to-night. But—after it—you are to +forget—both of you—forever. You understand?" +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap05"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER V +</H3> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +THE EAVESDROPPERS +</H3> + +<P> +"I suppose you have heard something about the troubles of the Motor +Trust? The other directors, you know, are trying to force me out." +</P> + +<P> +Rodman Brainard, president of the big Motor Corporation, searched the +magnetic depths of the big brown eyes of the woman beside his desk. +Talking to Constance Dunlap was not like talking to other women he had +known, either socially or in business. +</P> + +<P> +"A friend of yours, and of mine," he added frankly, "has told me enough +about you to convince me that you are more than an amateur at getting +people out of tight places. I asked you to call because I think you can +help me." +</P> + +<P> +There was a directness about Brainard which Constance liked. +</P> + +<P> +"It's very kind of you to place such confidence in me—on such short +acquaintance," she returned pointedly, searching his face. +</P> + +<P> +Brainard laughed. +</P> + +<P> +"I don't need to tell you, Mrs. Dunlap, that anything I have said so +far is an open secret in Wall Street. They have threatened to drag in +the Sherman law, and in the reorganization that will follow the +investigation, they plan to eliminate Rodman Brainard—perhaps set in +motion the criminal clauses of the law. It's nothing, Mrs. Dunlap, but +a downright hypocritical pose. They reverse the usual process. It is +doing good that evil may result." +</P> + +<P> +He watched her face intently. Something in her expression seemed to +please him. "By George," he thought to himself, "this is a man's woman. +You can talk to her." +</P> + +<P> +Brainard, accustomed to quick decisions, added aloud, "Just now they +are using Mrs. Brainard as a catspaw. They are spreading that scandal +about my acquaintance with Blanche Leblanc, the actress. You have seen +her? A stunning woman—wonderful. But I long ago saw that such a +friendship could lead to nothing but ruin." He met Constance's eye +squarely. There was nothing of the adventuress in it as there had been +in Blanche Leblanc. "And," he finished, almost biting off the words, "I +decided to cut it out." +</P> + +<P> +"How does Blanche Leblanc figure in the Motor Trust trouble?" asked +Constance keenly. +</P> + +<P> +"They had been shadowing me a long time before I knew it, ferreting +back into my past. Yesterday I learned that some one had broken into +Miss Leblanc's apartments and had stolen a package of letters which I +wrote to her. It can't hurt her. People expect that sort of thing of an +actress. But it can hurt the president of the Motor Trust—just at +present." +</P> + +<P> +"Who has been doing the shadowing?" +</P> + +<P> +"Worthington, the treasurer, is the guiding spirit of the 'insurgents' +as they call themselves—it sounds popular, like reform. I understand +they have had a detective named Drummond working for them." +</P> + +<P> +Constance raised her eyes quickly at the name. "Was Drummond always to +cross her trail? +</P> + +<P> +"This story of the letters," he went on, "puts on the finishing touch. +They have me all right on that. I can tell by the way that Sybil—er, +Mrs. Brainard—acts, that she has read and reread those letters. But, +by God," he concluded, bringing down his fist on the desk, "I shall +fight to the end, and when I go down,"—he emphasized each word with an +additional blow,—"the crash will bring down the whole damned structure +on their own heads, too." +</P> + +<P> +He was too earnest even to apologize to her. Constance studied the grim +determination in the man's face. He was not one of those destined to +fail. +</P> + +<P> +"All is not lost that is in peril, Mr. Brainard," she remarked quietly. +"That's one of the maxims of your own Wall Street." +</P> + +<P> +"What would you do?" he asked. It was not an appeal; rather it was an +invitation. +</P> + +<P> +"I can't say, yet. Let me come into the office of the Trust. Can't I be +your private secretary?" +</P> + +<P> +"Consider yourself engaged. Name your figure—after it is over. My +record on the Streets speaks for how I stand by those who stand by me. +But I hate a quitter." +</P> + +<P> +"So do I," exclaimed Constance, rising and giving him her hand in a +straight-arm shake that made Brainard straighten himself and look down +into her face with unconcealed admiration. +</P> + +<P> +The next morning Constance became private secretary to the president of +the Motor Trust. +</P> + +<P> +"You will be 'Miss' Dunlap," remarked Brainard. "It sounds more +plausible." +</P> + +<P> +Quietly he arranged her duties so that she would seem to be very busy +without having anything which really interfered with the purpose of her +presence. +</P> + +<P> +She had been thinking rapidly. Late in the forenoon she reached a +decision. A little errand uptown kept her longer than she expected, but +by the late afternoon she was back again at her desk, on which rested a +small package which had been delivered by messenger for her. +</P> + +<P> +"I beg you won't think as badly of me as it seems on the surface, Miss +Dunlap," remarked Brainard, stopping beside her desk. +</P> + +<P> +"I don't think badly of you," she answered in a low voice. "You are not +the only man who has been caught with a crowd of crooks who plan to +leave him holding the bag." +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, it isn't that," he hastened, "I mean this Blanche Leblanc affair. +May I be frank with you?" +</P> + +<P> +It was not the first time Constance had been made a confidante of the +troubles of the heart, and yet there was something fascinating about +having a man like Brainard consider her worthy of being trusted with +what meant so much to him. +</P> + +<P> +"I'm not altogether to blame." he went on slowly. "The estrangement +between my wife and myself came long before that little affair. It +began over—well—over what they call a serious difference in +temperament. You know a man—an ambitious man—needs a partner, a woman +who can use the social position that money gives not alone for pleasure +but as a means of advancing the partnership. I never had that. The more +I advanced, the more I found her becoming a butterfly—and not as +attractive as the other butterflies either. She went one way—I, +another. Oh well—what's the use? I went too far—the wrong way. I must +pay. Only let me save what I can from the wreck." +</P> + +<P> +It was not Constance, the woman, to whom he was talking. It was +Constance, the secretary. Yet it was the woman, not the secretary, who +listened. +</P> + +<P> +Brainard stopped again beside her desk. +</P> + +<P> +"All that is neither here nor there," he remarked, forcing a change in +his manner. "I am in for it. Now, the question is—what are we going to +do about it!" +</P> + +<P> +Constance had unwrapped the package on her desk, disclosing an oblong +box. +</P> + +<P> +"What's that?" he asked curiously. +</P> + +<P> +"Mr. Brainard," she answered tapping the box, "there's no limit to the +use of this little machine for our purposes. We can get at their most +vital secrets with it. We can discover every plan which they have +against us. We may even learn the hiding place of those letters Why, +there is no limit. This is one of those new microphone detectives." +</P> + +<P> +"A microphone?" he repeated as he opened the box, looked sharply at the +two black little storage batteries inside, the coil of silk-covered +wire, a little black rubber receiver and a curious black disc whose +face was pierced by a circular row of holes. +</P> + +<P> +"Yes. You must have heard of them. You hide that transmitter behind a +picture or under a table or desk. Then you run the wire out of the room +and by listening in the receiver you can hear everything!" +</P> + +<P> +"But that is what detectives use—" +</P> + +<P> +"Well?" she interrupted coolly, "what of it? If it is good for them, is +it not just as good for us?" +</P> + +<P> +"Better!" he exclaimed. "By George, you ARE the goods." +</P> + +<P> +It was late before Constance had a chance to do anything with the +microphone. It seemed as if Worthington were staying, perversely, later +than usual. At last, however, he left with a curt nod to her. +</P> + +<P> +The moment the door was closed she stopped the desultory clicking of +her typewriter with which she had been toying in the appearance of +being busy. With Brainard she entered the board room where she had +noticed Worthington and Sheppard often during the day. +</P> + +<P> +It was, without exaggeration, one of the most plainly furnished rooms +she had ever seen. A long mahogany table with eight large mahogany +chairs, a half inch pile of velvety rug on the floor and a huge +chandelier in the middle of the ceiling constituted the furniture. Not +a picture, not a cabinet or filing case broke the blankness of the +brown painted walls. +</P> + +<P> +For a moment she stopped to consider. Brainard waited and watched her +narrowly. +</P> + +<P> +"There isn't a place to put this transmitter except up above that +chandelier," she said at length. +</P> + +<P> +He gave her his hand as she stepped on a chair and then on the table. +There was a glimpse of a trim ankle. The warmth and softness of her +touch caused him to hold her hand just a moment longer than was +absolutely necessary. A moment later he was standing on the table +beside her. +</P> + +<P> +"This is the place, all right," she said, looking at the thick scum of +dust on the top of the reflector. +</P> + +<P> +Quickly she placed the little black disc close to the center on the top +of the reflector. "Can you see that from the floor?" she asked. +</P> + +<P> +"No," he answered, walking about the room, "not a sign of it." +</P> + +<P> +"I'll sit here," she said in just a tremor of excitement over the +adventure, "and listen while you talk in the board room." +</P> + +<P> +Brainard entered. It seemed ridiculous for him to talk to himself. +</P> + +<P> +"If the microphone works," he said at length, "rap on the desk twice." +Then he added, half laughing to himself, "If it doesn't, rap +once—Constance." +</P> + +<P> +A single rap came in answer. +</P> + +<P> +"If you couldn't hear," he smiled entering her office, "why did you rap +once!" +</P> + +<P> +"It didn't work smoothly on that last word." +</P> + +<P> +"What—Constance?" +</P> + +<P> +He thought there was a subtle change in their relations since the +microphone incident. At any rate she was not angry. Were they not +partners? +</P> + +<P> +"I think it will be better if I turn that microphone around," she +remarked. "I placed it face downwards. Let me change it." +</P> + +<P> +Again he helped her as she jumped up on the board room table. This time +his hand lingered a little longer in hers and she did not withdraw it +so soon. When she did there was a quick twinkle in her eyes as she +straightened the microphone and offered her hand to him again. +</P> + +<P> +"Jump!" he said, as if daring her. +</P> + +<P> +A moment she paused. "I never could take a dare," she answered. +</P> + +<P> +She leaped lightly to the floor. For just a moment she seemed about to +lose her balance. Then she felt an arm steadying her. He had caught her +and for an instant their eyes met. +</P> + +<P> +"Well, Rodman—I scarcely thought it was as brazen as this!" +</P> + +<P> +They turned in surprise. +</P> + +<P> +Mrs. Brainard was standing in the doorway. +</P> + +<P> +She was a petite blonde little woman of the deceptive age which the +beauty parlors convey to thousands of their assiduous patrons. +</P> + +<P> +For a moment she looked coldly from one to the other. +</P> + +<P> +"To what am I indebted for the pleasure of this unexpected visit, +Sybil?" asked Brainard with sarcastic emphasis. "I shall finish those +letters to-morrow, Miss Dunlap. You need not wait for them." +</P> + +<P> +He held the door to his own office open for Mrs. Brainard. +</P> + +<P> +Sybil Brainard shot a quick glance at Constance. "Well, young lady," +she said haughtily, "do you realize what you are doing and with whom +you are?" +</P> + +<P> +"It isn't necessary, Sybil, to bother about Miss Dunlap. The lights +were out of order and I found Miss Dunlap standing on the table trying +to fix them. You came just in time to see her jump down. By the way, +Worthington seems to be another who works late. He left only a few +minutes ago." +</P> + +<P> +Constance passed a restless night. To have got wrong at the very start +worried her. Over and over she thought of what had happened. And always +she came back to one question. What had Brainard meant by that +reference to Worthington? +</P> + +<P> +He came in late the next day, however. Still, there was no change in +his manner as he greeted her. The incident had not affected him, as it +had her. Neither of them said anything about it. +</P> + +<P> +A young man had been waiting to see Brainard and as he entered he asked +him in. +</P> + +<P> +Just then Sheppard walked casually through the reception room and into +the board room. +</P> + +<P> +Constance quickly closed her door. She heard the young man leave +Brainard's office but she was too engrossed to pay attention to +anything but the voices that were coming through the microphone. She +was writing feverishly what she heard. +</P> + +<P> +"Yes, Sheppard, I saw her again last night." +</P> + +<P> +"Where?" +</P> + +<P> +"She was to meet me here, but he stayed later than usual with that new +secretary of his. So I cut out and met her at the street entrance." +</P> + +<P> +"And?" +</P> + +<P> +"I told her of the new secretary. She did just what I wanted—came up +here—and, say Sheppard—what do you think? They were in this room and +he had his arms about her!" +</P> + +<P> +"The letters are all right, are they? How much did you have to pay the +Leblanc girl?" +</P> + +<P> +"Twenty thousand. That's all charged up against the pool. Say, Leblanc +is—well—give you my word, Sheppard—I can hardly blame Brainard after +all." +</P> + +<P> +"You ARE the last word in woman haters, Lee." +</P> + +<P> +Both men laughed. +</P> + +<P> +"And the letters?" +</P> + +<P> +"Don't worry. They are where they'll do the most good. Sybil has them +herself. Now, what have you to report? You saw the district attorney?" +</P> + +<P> +"Yes. He is ready to promise us all immunity if we will go on the stand +for the state. The criminal business will come later. Only, you have to +play him carefully. He's on the level. A breath of what we really want +and it will be all off." +</P> + +<P> +"Then we'll have to hold the stock up, as though nothing was going to +happen." +</P> + +<P> +They had left the board room. +</P> + +<P> +Constance hurried into Brainard's office. He was sunk deep in his chair +reading some papers. +</P> + +<P> +"What's the matter?" she asked. +</P> + +<P> +"She has entered a suit for divorce. That young man was a process +server." +</P> + +<P> +"Yes." +</P> + +<P> +"You are named as co-respondent along with Blanche Leblanc." +</P> + +<P> +"I?" +</P> + +<P> +"Yes. It must have been an afterthought. Everything is going—fortune, +reputation—even your friendship, now, Constance—" +</P> + +<P> +"Going? Not yet." +</P> + +<P> +She read hastily what she had overheard. +</P> + +<P> +"Devil take Worthington," ground out Brainard, gripping the arms of his +chair. "For weeks I have suspected him. They have been too clever for +me. Constance, while I have been going around laying myself open to +discovery, Sybil has played a cool and careful game." +</P> + +<P> +He was pacing the floor. +</P> + +<P> +"So—that's the plan. Hold back, keep the stock up until they get +started. Then let it go down until I'm forced to sell out at a loss, +buy it back cheap, and control the reorganization. Well, I haven't +control now, alone. I wish I did have. But neither have they. The +public owns the stock now. I need it. Who'll get it first—that's the +question!" +</P> + +<P> +He was thinking rapidly. +</P> + +<P> +"If you could do a little bear manipulation yourself," she suggested. +"That might get the public scared. You could get enough to control, +perhaps, then. They wouldn't dare sell—or if they did they would +weaken their own control. Either way, you get them, going or coming." +</P> + +<P> +"Exactly what I was thinking. Play their own game—ahead of +them—accelerate it." +</P> + +<P> +It was just after the lunch hour that Constance resumed her place at +her desk with the receiver at her ear. +</P> + +<P> +There were voices again in the board room. +</P> + +<P> +"My God, Sheppard, what do you think? Someone is selling Motors—five +points off and still going down." +</P> + +<P> +"Who is it? What shall we do?" +</P> + +<P> +"Who! Brainard, of course. Some one has peached. What are you going to +do?" +</P> + +<P> +"Wait. Let's call up the News Agency. Hello—yes—what? Unofficial +rumor of prosecution of Motors by the government—large selling orders +placed in advance. The deuce—say, we'll have to meet this or—" +</P> + +<P> +"Meet nothing. It's Brainard. He's going down in a big crash. We pour +our money into his pockets now and let him sell at the top and grab +back control with OUR money? Not much. I sell, too." +</P> + +<P> +Already boys were on the street with extras crying the great crash in +Motors. It was only a matter of minutes before all the news reading +public were thoroughly scared at the apparently bursting bubble. Shares +were dug up in small lots, in huge blocks and slammed on the market for +what they would bring. All day the pounding went on. Thousands of +shares were poured out until Motors which had been climbing toward par +in the neighborhood of 79 had declined forty points. Brainard had +jumped in first and had realized the top price for his holdings. +</P> + +<P> +Yet during all the wild scenes when the telephone was ringing +insistently for him, Brainard, having set the machinery in motion and +having been ostentatiously in the office when it started in order to +avert suspicion, could not now be found. +</P> + +<P> +The market had closed and Constance was reading the account of the +collapse as it was interpreted in the Wall Street editions of the +papers, when the door opened and Brainard entered. +</P> + +<P> +"This has been a good day's work, Constance," he said, flinging himself +into a chair. +</P> + +<P> +"Yes, I was just reading of it in the papers. The little microphone has +put an entirely new twist on affairs. And the best of it is that the +financial writers all seem to think it was planned by Worthington and +the rest." +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, hang Worthington—hang Motors. THAT is what I meant." +</P> + +<P> +He slapped down a packet of letters on the desk. +</P> + +<P> +"You—you found them?" gasped Constance. She looked at him keenly. It +was evident that a great weight had been taken off his mind. +</P> + +<P> +"Yes indeed. I knew there was only one place where she would put +them—in her safe with her jewels. She would think I would never +suspect that she had them and, besides, she had the combination +changed. I went up to the house this afternoon when she was out. I had +an expert with me. He worked two hours, steady,—but he opened it. Here +they are. Now for the real game." +</P> + +<P> +"What do you mean?" +</P> + +<P> +"I mean that I noticed the name of the manufacturer on your microphone. +I have had one installed in the room which she uses most of all. The +wires run to the next house where I've hired an apartment. I intend to +'listen in' there. I'll get this Worthington—yet!" +</P> + +<P> +That night Constance and Brainard sat for hours in the empty apartment +patiently waiting for word over the microphone. +</P> + +<P> +At last there was a noise as of a door opening. +</P> + +<P> +"Show them in here." +</P> + +<P> +"Sybil," whispered Brainard as if perhaps she might even hear. +</P> + +<P> +Then came more voices. +</P> + +<P> +"Worthington and Drummond," he added. "They suspect nothing yet." +</P> + +<P> +"Drummond knows this Dunlap woman," said Worthington. +</P> + +<P> +The detective launched forth in a tirade against Constance. +</P> + +<P> +"But she is clever, Drummond. You admit that." +</P> + +<P> +"Clever as they make 'em." +</P> + +<P> +"You will have her shadowed?" +</P> + +<P> +"Every moment, Mrs. Brainard." +</P> + +<P> +"What's all this about the panic in Motors, Lee?" +</P> + +<P> +"Some other time, Sybil, not now. Drummond, what do people say?" +</P> + +<P> +Drummond hesitated. +</P> + +<P> +"Out with it, man." +</P> + +<P> +"Well, Mr. Worthington, it is said you started it." +</P> + +<P> +"The deuce I did. But I guess Sheppard and I helped it along. We'll go +the limit, too. After all, it had to come. We'll load up after it +reaches the bottom." +</P> + +<P> +The voices trailed off. +</P> + +<P> +"Good night, Mrs. Brainard." +</P> + +<P> +"Good night, Mr. Drummond. That was what I wanted to know." A pause. +</P> + +<P> +"Lee, how can I ever thank you?" +</P> + +<P> +A sound suspiciously like a kiss came over the wire. Brainard clenched +his fist. +</P> + +<P> +"Good night, Sybil. I must go now—" Again the voices trailed off. +</P> + +<P> +It was several minutes before Brainard spoke. Then it was that he +showed his wonderful power of concentration. +</P> + +<P> +"I have a conference in half an hour, Constance," he remarked, looking +at his watch. "It is very important. It means getting money to support +Motors on the opening to-morrow after I have gathered in again what I +need. I think I can come pretty near doubling my holdings if I play it +right. That's important. But so is this." +</P> + +<P> +"I will listen," put in Constance. "Trust me. If anything else occurs I +will tell you." +</P> + +<P> +She was at the office early the next day, but not before Brainard who, +bright and fresh, even though he had been up all night, was primed for +the battle of his life at the opening of the market. +</P> + +<P> +Brainard had swung in at the turn and had quietly accumulated the stock +control which he needed. He was now bulling the market by matching +orders, pyramiding stock which he owned, using every device that was +known to his astute brain. +</P> + +<P> +On up went Motors, recovering the forty points, gradually, and even +going beyond in the reaction. Worthington and Sheppard had been +squeezed out. Not for a moment did he let up. +</P> + +<P> +As the clock on Trinity church struck three, the closing hour, Brainard +wheeled suddenly in his chair. +</P> + +<P> +"Miss Dunlap," he said quietly. "I wish that you would tell Worthington +and Sheppard that I should like to see them in the board room at four." +</P> + +<P> +Constance looked at her watch. There was time also to execute a little +scheme of her own. +</P> + +<P> +Four o'clock came. Brainard lounged casually across to the board room. +Instantly Constance had the receiver of the microphone at her ear, +straining to catch every word, and to make notes of the stormy scene, +if necessary. +</P> + +<P> +Her door opened. It was Sybil Brainard. +</P> + +<P> +The two women looked at each other coldly. +</P> + +<P> +Constance was the first to speak. +</P> + +<P> +"Mrs. Brainard," she began, "I asked you to come down here—not Mr. +Worthington. More than that, I asked the office boy to direct you here +instead of to his office. Do you see that machine?" +</P> + +<P> +Sybil looked at it without a sign of recognition. +</P> + +<P> +"It is a microphone detective. It was the installing of that machine in +the board room which you interrupted the other night." +</P> + +<P> +"Was it necessary that Mr. Brainard should put his arm around you for +that?" inquired Mrs. Brainard with biting sarcasm. +</P> + +<P> +"I had just jumped down from the table and had almost lost my +balance—that was all," pursued Constance imperturbably. +</P> + +<P> +"Another of these microphone eavesdroppers told me of a conversation +last night in your own apartment, Mrs. Brainard." +</P> + +<P> +Her face blanched. "You—have one—there?" +</P> + +<P> +"Yes. Mr. Brainard heard the first conversation, when Drummond and Mr. +Worthington were there. After they left he had to attend a conference +himself. I alone heard what passed when Mr. Worthington returned." +</P> + +<P> +"You are at liberty to—" +</P> + +<P> +"Mrs. Brainard. You do not understand. I have no reason to want to make +you—" +</P> + +<P> +An office boy tapped on the door and entered. "Mr. Brainard wants you, +Miss Dunlap." +</P> + +<P> +"I cannot explain now," resumed Constance. "Won't you sit here at my +desk and listen over the microphone to what happens!" +</P> + +<P> +She was gone before Mrs. Brainard could reply. What did it all mean? +Sybil put the black disc receiver to her ear as she had seen Constance +do. Her hand trembled. "Why did she tell me that?" she murmured. +</P> + +<P> +"You can't prove it," shouted a voice through the black disc at her +ear. She was startled. It was the voice of Worthington. +</P> + +<P> +"Miss Dunlap—have you that notebook?" came the deep tones of her +husband. +</P> + +<P> +Constance read from her first notes that part relating to the +conspiracy to control Motors, carefully omitting the part about the +Leblanc letters. +</P> + +<P> +"It's a lie—a lie." +</P> + +<P> +"No, it is not a lie. It is all good legal evidence, the record taken +over the new microphone detective. Look up there over the chandelier, +Worthington. The other end is in the top drawer of Miss Dunlap's desk." +</P> + +<P> +"I'll fight that to a finish, Brainard. You are clever but there are +other things besides Motors that you have to answer for." +</P> + +<P> +"No. Those letters—that is what you mean—are in my possession now. +You didn't know that? All the eavesdropping, if you choose to call it +that, was not done here, either, by a long shot, Worthington. I had one +of these machines in my wife's reception room. I have all sorts of +little scraps of conversation," he boasted. "I also have an account of +a visit there from two—er—scoundrels—" +</P> + +<P> +"Mrs. Brainard to see you, sir," announced a boy at the door. +</P> + +<P> +Constance had risen. Her face was flushed and her breast rose and fell +with excitement. +</P> + +<P> +"Mr. Brainard," she interrupted. "I must explain—confess. Mrs. +Brainard has been sitting in my office listening to us over the +microphone. I arranged it. I asked her to come down, using another name +as a pretext. But I didn't think she would interrupt so soon. Before +you see her—let me read this. It was a conversation I got after you +had left last night and so far I have had no chance to tell you of it. +Some one," she laid particular stress on the word, "came back after +that first interview. Listen." +</P> + +<P> +"No, Lee," Constance read rapidly from her notes, "no. Don't think I am +ungrateful. You have been one friend in a thousand through all this. I +shall have my decree-soon, now. Don't spoil it-" +</P> + +<P> +"But Sybil, think of Mm. What did he ever care for you! He has made you +free already." +</P> + +<P> +"He is still my husband." +</P> + +<P> +"Take this latest escapade with this Miss Dunlap." +</P> + +<P> +"Well, what do I really know about that?" +</P> + +<P> +"You saw him." +</P> + +<P> +"Yes, but maybe it was as he said." +</P> + +<P> +The door was flung open, interrupting Constance's reading, and Sybil +Brainard entered. The artificiality of the beauty parlor was all gone. +She was a woman, who had been wronged and deceived. +</P> + +<P> +"Next friend—a true next friend—fiend would be better, Lee +Worthington," she scorned. "How can you stand there and look me in the +face, how could you tell me of your love for me, when all the time you +cared no more for me or for any other woman than for that—that +Leblanc! You knew that I, who was as jealous as I could be of Rodman, +had heard a little—you added more. Yet when you had played on my +feelings, you would have cast me off, too—I know it; I know your kind." +</P> + +<P> +She paused for breath, then turned slowly to Brainard with a note of +pathos in her voice. +</P> + +<P> +"Our temperaments may have been different, Rodman. They were not when +we were poor. Perhaps I have not developed with you, the way you want +of me. But, Rodman, did you ever stop to think that perhaps, perhaps if +I had ever had the chance to be taken into your confidence more often—" +</P> + +<P> +"Will you—forgive me?" Brainard managed to blurt out. +</P> + +<P> +"Will you forgive me?" she returned frankly. +</P> + +<P> +"I—forgive? I have nothing to forgive." +</P> + +<P> +"I could have understood, Rodman, if it had been Miss Dunlap. She is +clever, wonderful. But that Leblanc—never!" +</P> + +<P> +Sybil Brainard turned to Constance. +</P> + +<P> +"Miss Dunlap—Mrs. Dunlap," she sobbed, "forgive me. You—you are a +better woman than I am." +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap06"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER VI +</H3> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +THE CLAIRVOYANTS +</H3> + +<P> +"Do you believe in dreams?" Constance Dunlap looked searchingly at her +interrogator, as if her face or manner betrayed some new side of her +character. +</P> + +<P> +Mrs. deForest Caswell was an attractive woman verging on forty, a +chance acquaintance at a shoppers' tea room downtown who had proved to +be an uptown neighbor. +</P> + +<P> +"I have had some rather strange experiences, Mildred," confessed +Constance tentatively. "Why!" +</P> + +<P> +"Because—" the other woman hesitated, then added, "why should I not +tell you! Last night, Constance, I had the strangest dream. It has left +such an impression on me that I can't shake it off, although I have +tried all day." +</P> + +<P> +"Yes? Tell me about it." +</P> + +<P> +Mildred Caswell paused a moment, then began slowly, as if not to omit +anything from her story. +</P> + +<P> +"I dreamt that Forest was dying. I could see him, could see the doctor +and the nurse, everything. And yet somehow I could not get to him. I +was afraid, with such an oppressive fear. I tried—oh, how I tried! I +struggled, and how badly I felt!" and she shuddered at the very +recollection. +</P> + +<P> +"There seemed to be a wall," she resumed, "a narrow wall in the way and +I couldn't get over it. As often as I tried, I fell. And then I seemed +to be pursued by some kind of animal, half bull, half snake. I ran. It +followed closely. I seemed to see a crowd of people and I felt that if +I could only get to that crowd, somehow I would be safe, perhaps might +even get over the wall and—I woke up—almost screaming." +</P> + +<P> +The woman's face was quite blanched. +</P> + +<P> +"My dear," remonstrated Constance, "you must not take it so. +Remember—it was only a dream. +</P> + +<P> +"I know it was only a dream," she said, "but you don't know what is +back of it." +</P> + +<P> +Mildred Caswell had from time to time hinted to Constance of the +growing incompatibility of her married life, but as Constance was +getting used to confidences, she had kept silent, knowing that her +friend would tell her in time. +</P> + +<P> +"You must have guessed," faltered Mrs. Caswell, "that Forest and I are +not—not on the best of terms, that we are getting further and further +apart." +</P> + +<P> +It rather startled Constance to hear frankly stated what she already +had observed. She wondered how far the estrangement had gone. The fact +was that she had rather liked deForest Caswell, although she had only +met her friend's husband a few times. In fact she was surprised that +momentarily there flashed through her mind the query as to whether +Mildred herself might be altogether blameless in the growing +uncongeniality. +</P> + +<P> +Mildred Caswell had drawn out of her chatelaine a bit of newspaper and +handed it to Constance, not as if it was of any importance to herself +but as if it would explain better than she could tell what she meant. +</P> + +<P> +Constance read: +</P> + +<H4 ALIGN="center"> + MME. CASSANDRA,<BR> + THE VEILED PROPHETESS<BR> +</H4> + +<P> +Born with a double veil, educated in occult mysteries in Egypt and +India. Without asking a question, tells your name and reads your secret +troubles and the remedy. Reads your dreams. Great questions of life +quickly solved. Failure turned to success, the separated brought +together, advice on all affairs of life, love, marriage, divorce, +business, speculation, and investments. Overcomes all evil influences. +Ever ready to help and advise those with capital to find a safe and +paying investment. No fee until it succeeds. Could anything be fairer? +</P> + +<H4 ALIGN="center"> + THE RETREAT,<BR> + — W. 47th Street.<BR> +</H4> + +<P> +"Won't you come with me to Madame Cassandra?" asked Mrs. Caswell, as +Constance finished reading. "She always seems to do me so much good." +</P> + +<P> +"Who is Madame Cassandra?" asked Constance, rereading the last part of +the advertisement. +</P> + +<P> +"I suppose you would call her a dream doctor," said Mildred. +</P> + +<P> +It was a new idea to Constance, this of a dream doctor to settle the +affairs of life. Only a moment she hesitated, then she answered simply, +"Yes, I'll go." +</P> + +<P> +"The retreat" was just off Longacre Square among quite a nest of +fakers. A queue of automobiles before the place testified, however, to +the prosperity of Madame Cassandra, as they entered the bronze grilled +plate glass door and turned on the first floor toward the home of the +Adept. Constance had an uncomfortable feeling as they entered of being +watched behind the shades of the apartment. Still, they had no trouble +in being admitted, and a soft-voiced colored attendant welcomed them. +</P> + +<P> +The esoteric flat of Madame Cassandra was darkened except for the +electric lights glowing in amber and rose-colored shades. There were +several women there already. As they entered Constance had noticed a +peculiar, dreamy odor. There did not seem to be any hurry, any such +thing as time here, so skilfully was the place run. There was no noise; +the feet sank in half-inch piles of rugs, and easy-chairs and divans +were scattered about. +</P> + +<P> +Once a puff of light smoke appeared, and Constance awoke to the fact +that some were smoking little delicately gold-banded cigarettes. Indeed +it was all quite recherche. +</P> + +<P> +Mrs. Caswell took one from a maid. So did Constance, but after a puff +or two managed to put it out and later to secure another which she kept. +</P> + +<P> +Madame Cassandra herself proved to be a tall, slender, pale woman with +dark hair and a magnetic eye, an eye that probably accounted more than +anything else for her success. She was clad in a house gown of purplish +silk which clung tightly to her, and at her throat a diamond pendant +sparkled, as well as other brilliants on her long, slender fingers. +</P> + +<P> +She met Mildred and Constance with outstretched hands. +</P> + +<P> +"So glad to see you, my dears," purred Madame, leading the way into an +inner sanctum. +</P> + +<P> +Mrs. Caswell had seated herself with the air of one who worshiped at +the shrine, while Constance gazed about curiously. +</P> + +<P> +"Madame," she began a little tremulously, "I have had another of those +dreadful dreams." +</P> + +<P> +"You poor dear soul," soothed Madame, stroking her hand. "Tell me of +it—all." +</P> + +<P> +Quickly Mrs. Caswell poured forth her story as she had already told it +to Constance. +</P> + +<P> +"My dear Mrs. Caswell," remarked the high priestess slowly, when the +story was complete, "it is all very simple. His love is dead. That is +what you fear and it is the truth. The wall is the wall that he has +erected against you. Try to forget it—to forget him. You would be +better off. There are other things in the world—" +</P> + +<P> +"Ah, but I cannot live as I am used to without money," murmured Mrs. +Caswell. +</P> + +<P> +"I know," replied Madame. "It is that that keeps many a woman with a +brute. When financial and economic independence come, then woman will +be free and only then. Now, listen. Would you like to be +free—financially? You remember that delightful Mr. Davies who has been +here? Yes? Well, he is a regular client of mine, now. He is a broker +and never embarks in any enterprise without first consulting me. Just +the other day I read his fortune in United Traction. It has gone up +five points already and will go fifteen more. If you want, I will give +you a card to him. Let me see—yes, I can do that. You too will be +lucky in speculation." +</P> + +<P> +Constance, with one ear open, had been busy looking about the room. In +a bookcase she saw a number of books and paused to examine their +titles. She was surprised to see among the old style dream books +several works on modern psychology, particularly on the interpretation +of dreams. +</P> + +<P> +"Of course, Mrs. Caswell, I don't want to urge you," Madame was saying. +"I have only pointed out a way in which you can be independent. And, +you know, Mr. Davies is a perfect gentleman, so courteous and reliable. +I know you will be successful if you take my advice and go to him." +</P> + +<P> +Mildred said nothing for a few moments, but as she rose to go she +remarked, "Thank you very much. I'll think about it. Anyhow, you've +made me feel better." +</P> + +<P> +"So kind of you to say it," murmured the Adept. "I'm sorry you must go, +but really I have other appointments. Please come again—with your +friend. Good-bye." +</P> + +<P> +"What do you think of her?" asked Mrs. Caswell on the street. +</P> + +<P> +"Very clever," answered Constance dubiously. +</P> + +<P> +Mrs. Caswell looked up quickly. "You don't like her?" +</P> + +<P> +"To tell the truth," confessed Constance quietly, "I have had too much +experience in Wall Street myself to trust to a clairvoyant." +</P> + +<P> +They had scarcely reached the corner before Constance again had that +peculiar feeling which some psychologists have noted, of being stared +at. She turned, but saw no one. Still the feeling persisted. She could +stand it no longer. +</P> + +<P> +"Don't think me crazy, Mildred," she said, "but I just have a desire to +walk back a block." +</P> + +<P> +Constance had turned suddenly. As she glanced keenly about she was +aware of a familiar figure gazing into the window of an art store +across the street. He had stopped so that although his back was turned +he could, by a slight shift of his position, still see by means of a +mirror in the window what was going on across the street behind him. +</P> + +<P> +One look was enough. It was Drummond, the detective. What did it mean? +</P> + +<P> +Neither woman said much as they rode uptown, and parted on the +respective floors of their apartment house. Still Constance could not +get out of her head the recollection of the dream doctor and of +Drummond. +</P> + +<P> +Restless, she determined that night to go down to the Public Library +and see whether any of the books at the clairvoyant's were on the +shelves. Fortunately she found some, found indeed that they were not +all, as she had half suspected, the works of fakers but that quite a +literature had been built up around the new psychology of dreams. +</P> + +<P> +Deeply she delved into the fascinating subjects that had been opened by +the studies of the famous Dr. Sigmund Freud of Vienna, and as she read +she found that she began to understand much about Mrs. Caswell—and, +with a start, about her own self. +</P> + +<P> +At first she revolted against the unpleasant feature of the new dream +philosophy—the irresistible conclusion that all humanity, underneath +the shell, is sensuous or sensual in nature, that practically all +dreams portray some delight of the senses and that sexual dreams are a +large proportion of all visions. But the more she thought of it, the +more clearly was she able to analyze Mrs. Caswell's dream and to get +back at the causes of it, in the estrangement from her husband and +perhaps the brutality of his ignorance of woman. And then, too, there +was Drummond. What was he doing in the case? +</P> + +<P> +She did not see Mildred Caswell again until the following afternoon. +But then she seemed unusually bright in contrast with the depression of +the day before. Constance was not surprised. Her intuition told her +that something had happened and she hardly needed to guess that Mrs. +Caswell had followed the advice of the clairvoyant and had been to see +the wonderful Mr. Davies, to whom the mysteries of the stock market +were an open book. +</P> + +<P> +"Have you had any other dreams?" asked Constance casually. +</P> + +<P> +"Yes," replied Mildred, "but not like the one that depressed me. Last +night I had a very pleasant dream. It seemed that I was breakfasting +with Mr. Davies. I remember that there was a hot coal fire in the +grate. Then suddenly a messenger came in with news that United Traction +had advanced twenty points. Wasn't it strange?" +</P> + +<P> +Constance said nothing. In fact it did not seem strange to her at all. +The strange thing to her, now that she was a sort of amateur dream +reader herself, was that Mrs. Caswell did not seem to see the real +import of her own dream. +</P> + +<P> +"You have seen Mr. Davies to-day?" Constance ventured. +</P> + +<P> +Mrs. Caswell laughed. "I wasn't going to tell you. You seemed so set +against speculating in Wall Street. But since you ask me, I may as well +admit it." +</P> + +<P> +"When did you see him before?" went on Constance. "Did you have much +invested with him already?" +</P> + +<P> +Mrs. Caswell glanced up, startled. "My—you are positively uncanny, +Constance. How did you know I had seen him before?" +</P> + +<P> +"One seldom dreams," said Constance, "about anything unless it has been +suggested by an event of the day before. You saw him today. That would +not have inspired the dream of last night. Therefore I concluded that +you must have seen him and invested before. Madame Cassandra's mention +of him yesterday caused the dream of last night. The dream of last +night probably influenced you to see him again to-day, and you invested +in United Traction. That is the way dreams work. Probably more of +conduct than we know is influenced by dream life. Now, if you should +get fifteen or twenty points you would be in a fair way to join the +ranks of those who believe that dreams do come true." +</P> + +<P> +Mrs. Caswell looked at her almost alarmed, then attempted to turn it +off with a laugh, "And perhaps breakfast with him?" +</P> + +<P> +"When I do set up as interpreter of dreams," answered Constance simply, +"I'll tell you more." +</P> + +<P> +On one point she had made up her mind. That was to visit Mr. Davies +herself the next day. +</P> + +<P> +She found his office a typical bucket shop, even down to having a +section partitioned off for women clients of the firm. She had not +intended to risk anything, and so was prepared when Mr. Davies himself +approached her courteously. Instinctively Constance distrusted him. He +was too cordial, too polite. She could feel the claws hidden in his +velvety paw, as it were. There was a debonnaire assurance about him, +the air of a man who thought he understood women, and indeed did +understand a certain type. But to Constance, who was essentially a +man's woman, Davies was only revolting. +</P> + +<P> +She managed to talk without committing herself, and he in his +complacency was glad to hope that he was making a new customer. She had +to be careful not to betray any of the real and extensive knowledge +about Wall Street which she actually possessed. But the glib +misrepresentations about United Traction quite amazed her. +</P> + +<P> +When she rose to go, Davies accompanied her to the door, then out into +the hall to the elevator. As he bent over to shake hands, she noted +that he held her hand just a little longer than was necessary. +</P> + +<P> +"He's a swindler of the first water," she concluded as she was whisked +down in the elevator. "I'm sure Mildred is in badly with this crowd, +one urging her on in her trouble, the other making it worse and +fleecing her into the bargain." +</P> + +<P> +At the entrance she paused, undecided which was the quickest route +home. As by chance she turned just for a moment she thought she caught +a fleeting glimpse of Drummond dodging behind a pillar. It was only for +an instant but even that apparition was enough. +</P> + +<P> +"I WILL get her out of this safely," resolved Constance. "I WILL keep +one more fly from his web." +</P> + +<P> +Constance felt as if, even now, she must see Mildred and, although she +knew nothing, at least put her on her guard. She did not have long to +wait for her chance. It was late in the afternoon when her door buzzer +sounded. +</P> + +<P> +"Constance, I've been looking for you all day," sighed Mildred, +dropping sobbing into a chair. "I am—distracted." +</P> + +<P> +"Why, my dear, what's the matter?" asked Constance. "Let me make you a +cup of coffee." +</P> + +<P> +Over the steaming little cups Mildred grew more calm. +</P> + +<P> +"Forest has found out in some way that I am speculating in Wall +Street," she confided at length. "I suppose some of his friends—he has +lots down there—told him." +</P> + +<P> +Momentarily the picture of Drummond back of the post in Davies' +building flashed over Constance. +</P> + +<P> +"And he is awfully angry. Oh, I never knew him to be so angry—and +sarcastic, too." +</P> + +<P> +"Was it wholly over your money?" asked Constance. "Was there nothing +else?" +</P> + +<P> +Mrs. Caswell started. "You grow more weird, every day, Constance. +Yes—there was something else." +</P> + +<P> +"Mr. Davies?" +</P> + +<P> +Mildred had risen. "Don't—don't—" she cried. +</P> + +<P> +"Then you do really—care for him!" asked Constance mercilessly. +</P> + +<P> +"No—no, a thousand times—no. How can I? I have put all such thoughts +out of my mind—long ago." She paused, then went on more calmly, +"Constance, believe me or not—I am just as good a woman to-day as I +was the day I married Forest. No—I would not even let the thought +enter my head—never!" +</P> + +<P> +For perhaps an hour after her friend had gone, Constance sat thinking. +What should she do? Something must be done and soon. As she thought, +suddenly the truth flashed over her. +</P> + +<P> +Caswell had employed Drummond to shadow his wife in the hope that he +might unearth something that might lead to a divorce. Drummond, like so +many divorce detectives, was not averse to guiding events, to put it +mildly. He had ingratiated himself, perhaps, with the clairvoyant and +Davies. Constance had often heard before of clairvoyants and brokers +who worked in conjunction to fleece the credulous. Now another and more +serious element than the loss of money was involved. Added to them was +a divorce detective—and honor itself was at stake. She remembered the +doped cigarettes. She had heard of them before at clairvoyants'. She +saw it all—Madame Cassandra playing on Mildred's wounded affections, +the broker on both that and her desire to be independent—and Drummond +pulling the wires that all might take advantage of her woman's frailty. +</P> + +<P> +That moment Constance determined on action. +</P> + +<P> +First she telephoned to deForest Caswell at his office. It was an +unconventional thing to do to ask him to call, but she made some +plausible pretext. She was surprised to find that he accepted it +without hesitating. It set her thinking. Drummond must have told him +something of her and he had thought this as good a time as any to face +her. In that case Drummond would probably come too. She was prepared. +</P> + +<P> +She had intended to have one last talk with Mildred, but had no need to +call her. Utterly wretched, the poor little woman came in again to see +her as she had done scores of times before, to pour out her heart. +Forest had not come home to dinner, had not even taken the trouble to +telephone. Constance did not say that she herself was responsible. +</P> + +<P> +"Do you really want to know the truth about your dreams?" asked +Constance, after she had prevailed upon Mildred to eat a little. +</P> + +<P> +"I do know," she returned. +</P> + +<P> +"No, you don't," went on Constance, now determined to tell her the +truth whether she liked it or not. "That clairvoyant and Mr. Davies are +in league, playing you for a sucker, as they say." +</P> + +<P> +Mrs. Caswell did not reply for a moment. Then she drew a long breath +and shut her eyes. "Oh, you don't know how true what she says is to me. +She—" +</P> + +<P> +"Listen," interrupted Constance. "Mildred, I'm going to be frank, +brutally frank. Madame Cassandra has read your character, not the +character as you think it is, but your unconscious, subconscious self. +She knows that there is no better way to enter into the intimate life +of a client, according to the new psychology, than by getting at and +analyzing the dreams. And she knows that you can't go far in dream +analysis without finding sex. It is one of the strongest natural +impulses, yet subject to the strongest repression, and hence one of the +weakest points of our culture. +</P> + +<P> +"She is actually helping along your alienation for that broker. You +yourself have given me the clue in your dreams. Only I am telling you +the truth about them. She holds it back and tells you plausible +falsehoods to help her own ends. She is trying to arouse in you those +passions which you have suppressed, and she has not scrupled to use +drugged cigarettes with you and others to do it. You remember the +breakfast dream, when I said that much could be traced back to dreams? +A thing happens. It causes a dream. That in turn sometimes causes +action. No, don't interrupt. Let me finish first. +</P> + +<P> +"Take that first dream," continued Constance, rapidly thrusting home +her interpretation so that it would have its full effect. "You dreamed +that your husband was dying and you were afraid. She said it meant love +was dead. It did not. The fact is that neurotic fear in a woman has its +origin in repressed, unsatisfied love, love which for one reason or +another is turned away from its object and has not succeeded in being +applied. Then his death. That simply means that you have a feeling that +you might be happier if he were away and didn't devil you. It is a +survival of childhood, when death is synonymous with absence. I know +you don't believe it. But if you had studied the subject as I have in +the last few days you'd understand. Madame Cassandra understands. +</P> + +<P> +"And the wall. That was Wall Street, probably, which does divide you +two. You tried to get over it and you fell. That means your fear of +actually falling, morally, of being a fallen woman." +</P> + +<P> +Mildred was staring wildly. She might deny but in her heart she must +admit. +</P> + +<P> +"The thing that pursued you, half bull, half snake, was Davies and his +blandishments. I have seen him. I know what he is. The crowd in a dream +always denotes a secret. He is pursuing you, as in the dream. But he +hasn't caught you. He thinks there is in you the same wild demimondaine +instinct that with many an ardent woman, slumbers unknown in the back +of her mind. +</P> + +<P> +"Whatever you may say, you do think of him. When a woman dreams of +breakfasting cozily with some one other than her husband it has an +obvious meaning. As for the messenger and the message about the United +Traction, there, too, was a plain wish, and, as you must see, wishes in +one form or another, disguised or distorted, lie at the basis of +dreams. Take the coal fire. That, too, is susceptible of +interpretation. I think you must have heard the couplet: +</P> + +<P> +"'No coal, no fire so hotly glows As the secret love that no one +knows.'" +</P> + +<P> +Mildred Caswell had risen, an indignant flush on her face. +</P> + +<P> +Constance put her hand on her arm gently to restrain her, knowing that +such indignation was the first sign that she had struck at the core of +truth in her interpretation. +</P> + +<P> +"My dear," she urged, "I'm only telling you the truth, for your own +sake, and not to take advantage of you as Madame Cassandra is doing. +Please—remember that the best evidence of your normal condition is +just what I find, that absence of love would be abnormal. My dear, you +are what the psychologists call a consciously frigid, unconsciously +passionate woman. Consciously you reject this Davies; unconsciously you +accept him. And it is the more dangerous, although you do not know it, +because some one else is watching. It was not one of his friends who +told your husband—" +</P> + +<P> +Mrs. Caswell had paled. "Is—is there a—detective?" she faltered. +</P> + +<P> +Constance nodded. +</P> + +<P> +Mildred had collapsed completely. She was sobbing in a chair, her head +bowed in her hands, her little lace handkerchief soaked. "What shall I +do? What shall I do?" +</P> + +<P> +There was a sudden tap at the door. +</P> + +<P> +"Quick—in there," whispered Constance, shoving her through the +portieres into the drawing room. +</P> + +<P> +It was Forest Caswell. +</P> + +<P> +For a moment Constance stood irresolute, wondering just how to meet +him, then she said, "Good evening, Mr. Caswell. I hope you will pardon +me for asking you to call on me, but, as you know, I've come to know +your wife—perhaps better than you do." +</P> + +<P> +"Not better," he corrected, seeming to see that it was directness that +she was aiming at. "It is bad enough to get mixed up badly in Wall +Street, but what would you yourself say—you are a business woman—what +would you say about getting into the clutches of a—a dream doctor—and +worse?" +</P> + +<P> +He had put Constance on the defensive in a sentence. +</P> + +<P> +"Don't you ever dream?" she asked quietly. +</P> + +<P> +He looked at her a moment as if doubting even her mentality. +</P> + +<P> +"Lord," he exclaimed in disgust, "you, too, defend it?" +</P> + +<P> +"But, don't you dream?" she persisted. +</P> + +<P> +"Why, of course I dream," he answered somewhat petulantly. "What of it? +I don't guide my actions by it." +</P> + +<P> +"Do you ever dream of Mildred?" she asked. +</P> + +<P> +"Sometimes," he admitted reluctantly. +</P> + +<P> +"Ever of other—er—people?" she pursued. +</P> + +<P> +"Yes," he replied, "sometimes of other people. But what has that to do +with it? I cannot help my dreams. My conduct I can help and I do help." +</P> + +<P> +Constance had not expected him to be frank to the extent of taking her +into his confidence. Still, she felt that he had told her just enough. +She discerned a vague sense of jealousy in his tone which told her more +than words that whatever he might have said or done to Mildred he +resented, unconsciously, the manner in which she had striven to gain +sympathy outside. +</P> + +<P> +"Fortunately he knows nothing of the new theories," she said to herself. +</P> + +<P> +"Mrs. Dunlap," he resumed, "since you have been frank with me, I must +be equally frank with you. I think you are far too sensible a woman not +to understand in just what a peculiar position my wife has placed me." +</P> + +<P> +He had taken out of his pocket a few sheets of closely typewritten +tissue paper. He did not look at them. Evidently he knew the contents +by heart. Constance did not need to be told that this was a sheaf of +the daily reports of the agency for which Drummond worked. +</P> + +<P> +He paused. She had been watching him searchingly. She was determined +not to let him justify himself first. +</P> + +<P> +"Mr. Caswell," she persisted in a low, earnest tone, "don't be so sure +that there is nothing in this dream, business. Before you read me those +reports from Mr. Drummond, let me finish." +</P> + +<P> +Forest Caswell almost dropped them in surprise. +</P> + +<P> +"Dreams," she continued, seeing her advantage, "are wishes, either +suppressed or expressed. Sometimes the dream is frank and shows an +expressed wish. Other times it shows a suppressed wish, or a wish which +in its fulfilment in the dream is disguised or distorted. +</P> + +<P> +"You are the cause of your wife's dreams. She feels in them anxiety. +And, according to the modern psychologists who have studied dreams +carefully and scientifically, fear and anxiety represent love repressed +or suppressed." +</P> + +<P> +She paused to emphasize the point, glad to note that he was following +her. +</P> + +<P> +"That clairvoyant," she went on, "has found out the truth. True, it may +not have been the part of wisdom for Mildred to have gone to her in the +first place. I pass over that. I do not know whether you or she was +most to blame at the start. But that woman, in the guise of being her +friend, has played on every string of your wife's lonely heart, which +you have wrung until it vibrates. +</P> + +<P> +"Then," she hastened on, "came your precious friend Drummond, Drummond +who has, no doubt, told you a pack of lies about me. You see that!" +</P> + +<P> +She had flung down on the table a cigarette which she had managed to +get at Madame Cassandra's. +</P> + +<P> +"Smoke it." +</P> + +<P> +He lighted it gingerly, took a puff or two, puckered his face, frowned, +and rubbed the lighted end on the fireplace to extinguish it. +</P> + +<P> +"What is it?" he asked suspiciously. +</P> + +<P> +"Hashish," she answered tersely. "Things were not going fast enough to +suit either Madame Cassandra or Drummond. Madame Cassandra helped along +the dreams by a drug noted for its effect on the passions. More than +that," added Constance, leaning over toward him and catching his eye, +"Madame Cassandra was working in league with a broker, as so many of +the fakers do. Drummond knew it, whether he told you the truth about it +or not. That broker was a swindler named Davies." +</P> + +<P> +She was watching the effect on him. She saw that he had been reserving +this for a last shot at her, that he realized she had stolen his own +ammunition and appropriated it to herself. +</P> + +<P> +"They were only too glad when Drummond approached them. There you are, +three against that poor little woman—no, four, including yourself. +Perhaps she was foolish. But it was not so much to her discredit as to +those who cast her adrift when she had a natural right to protection. +Here was a woman with passions which she herself did not understand, +and a little money—alone. Her case appealed to me. I knew her dreams. +I studied them." +</P> + +<P> +Caswell was listening in amazement. "It is dangerous to be with a +person who pays attention to such little things," he said. +</P> + +<P> +Evidently Drummond himself must have been listening. The door buzzer +sounded and he stepped in, perhaps to bolster up his client in case he +should be weakening. +</P> + +<P> +As he met Constance's eye he smiled superciliously and was about to +speak. But she did not give him time even to say good evening. +</P> + +<P> +"Ask him," she cried, her eyes flashing, for she realized that it had +been part of the plan to confront her, perhaps worm out of her just +enough to confirm Drummond's own story to Caswell, "ask him to tell the +truth—if he is capable of it—not the truth that will make a good +daily report of a hired shadow who colors his report the way he thinks +his client desires it, but the real truth." +</P> + +<P> +"Mr. Caswell," interrupted Drummond, "this woman——" +</P> + +<P> +"Mr. Drummond," cried Constance, rising and shaking the burnt stub of +the little gold-banded cigarette at him to impress it on his mind, "Mr. +Drummond, I don't care whether I am a—a she-devil"—she almost hissed +the words at him—"but I have evidence enough to go before the district +attorney of this city and the grand jury and get indictments for +conspiracy against a certain clairvoyant and a bucket shop operator. To +save themselves, they will probably tell all they know about a certain +crook who has been using them." +</P> + +<P> +Caswell looked at her, amazed at her denunciation of the detective. As +for Drummond, he turned his back on her as if to ignore her utterly. +</P> + +<P> +"Mr. Caswell," he said bitterly, "in those reports—" +</P> + +<P> +"Forest Caswell," insisted Constance, rising and facing him, "if you +have in that heart of yours one shred of manhood it should move you. +You—this man—the others—have placed in the path of a woman every +provocation, every temptation for financial, physical, and moral ruin. +She has consulted a clairvoyant—yes. She has speculated—yes. Yet she +was proof against something greater than that. And I know—because I +know her unconscious self which her dreams reveal, her inmost soul—I +know her better than you do, better than she does herself. I know that +even now she is as good and true and would be as loving as—" +</P> + +<P> +Constance had paused and taken a step toward the drawing room. Before +she knew it, the portieres flew apart and an eager little woman had +rushed past her and flung her arms about the neck of the man. +</P> + +<P> +Caswell's features were working, as he gently disengaged her arms, +still keeping one hand. Half shoving her aside, ignoring Constance, he +had faced Drummond. For a moment the brazen detective flinched. +</P> + +<P> +As he did so, deForest Caswell crumpled up the mass of tissue paper +reports and flung them into the fireplace. +</P> + +<P> +"Get out!" he said, suppressing his voice with difficulty. "Send +me—your bill. I'll pay it—but, mind, if it is one penny more than it +should be, I'll—I'll fight if it takes me from the district attorney +and the grand jury to the highest court of the State. Now—go!" +</P> + +<P> +Caswell turned slowly again toward his wife. +</P> + +<P> +"I've been a brute," he said simply. +</P> + +<P> +Something almost akin to jealousy rose in Constance's heart as she saw +Mildred, safe at last. +</P> + +<P> +Then Caswell turned slowly to her. "You," he said, stroking his wife's +hand gently but looking at Constance, "you are a REAL clairvoyant." +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap07"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER VII +</H3> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +THE PLUNGERS +</H3> + +<P> +"They have the most select clientele in the city here." +</P> + +<P> +Constance Dunlap was sitting in the white steamy room of Charmant's +Beauty Shop. Her informant, reclining dreamily in a luxurious wicker +chair, bathed in the perspiring vapor, had evidently taken a fancy to +her. +</P> + +<P> +"And no wonder, either; they fix you up so well," she rattled on; then +confidingly, "Now, last night after the show a party of us went to +supper and a dance—and it was in the wee small hours when we broke up. +But Madame here can make you all over again. Floretta," she called to +an attendant who had entered, "if Mr. Warrington calls up on the +'phone, say I'll call him later." +</P> + +<P> +"Yes, Miss Larue." +</P> + +<P> +Constance glanced up quickly as Floretta mentioned the name of the +popular young actress. Stella Larue was a pretty girl on whom the wild +dissipation of the night life of New York was just beginning to show +its effects. The name of Warrington, too, recalled to Constance +instantly some gossip she had heard in Wall Street about the +disagreement in the board of directors of the new Rubber Syndicate and +the effort to oust the president whose escapades were something more +than mere whispers of scandal. +</P> + +<P> +This was the woman in the case. Constance looked at Stella now with +added interest as she rose languidly, drew her bathrobe about her +superb figure carelessly in such a way as to show it at best advantage. +</P> + +<P> +"I've had more or less to do with Wall Street myself," observed +Constance. +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, have you? Isn't that interesting," cried Stella. +</P> + +<P> +"I hope you're not putting money in Rubber?" queried Constance. +</P> + +<P> +"On the contrary," rippled Stella, then added, "You're going to stay? +Let me tell you something. Have Floretta do your hair. She's the best +here. Then come around to see me in the dormitory if I'm here when you +are through, won't you?" +</P> + +<P> +Constance promised and Stella fluttered away like the pretty butterfly +that she was, leaving Constance to wonder at the natural gravitation of +plungers in the money market toward plungers in the white lights. +</P> + +<P> +Charmant's Beauty Parlor was indeed all its name implied, a temple of +the cult of adornment, the last cry in the effort to satisfy what is +more than health, wealth, and happiness to some women—the fundamental +feminine instinct for beauty. +</P> + +<P> +Constance had visited the beauty specialist to have an incipient +wrinkle smoothed out. Frankly, it was not vanity. But she had come to +realize that her greatest asset was her personal appearance. Once that +had a chance to work, her native wit and keen ability would carry her +to success. +</P> + +<P> +Madame Charmant herself was a tall, dark-skinned, dark-haired, +dark-eyed, well-groomed woman who looked as if she had been stamped +from a die for a fashion plate—and then the die had been thrown away. +All others like her were spurious copies, counterfeits. More than that, +she affected the name of Vera, which in itself had the ring of truth. +</P> + +<P> +And so Charmant had prevailed on Constance to take a full course in +beautification and withhold the wrinkle at the source. +</P> + +<P> +"Besides, you know, my dear," she purred, "there's nothing discovered +by the greatest minds of the age that we don't apply at once." +</P> + +<P> +Constance was not impervious to feminine reason, and here she was. +</P> + +<P> +"Has Miss Larue gone?" she asked when at last she was seated in a +comfortable chair again sipping a little aromatic cup of coffee. +</P> + +<P> +"No, she's resting in one of the little dressing rooms." +</P> + +<P> +She followed Floretta down the corridor. Each little compartment had +its neat, plain white enameled bed, a dresser and a chair. +</P> + +<P> +Stella smiled as Constance entered. "Yes," she murmured in response to +the greeting, "I feel quite myself now." +</P> + +<P> +"Mr. Warrington on the wire," announced Floretta a moment later, coming +down the corridor again with a telephone on a long unwinding wire. +</P> + +<P> +"Hello, Alfred—oh, rocky this morning," Constance overheard. "I said +to myself, 'Never again—until the next time. Vera? Oh, she was as +fresh as a lark. Can I lunch with you downtown? Of course.'" Then as +she hung up the receiver she called, "Floretta, get me a taxi." +</P> + +<P> +"Yes, Miss Larue." +</P> + +<P> +"I always have a feeling here," whispered Stella, "that I am being +listened to. I mean to speak to Vera about it some time. By the way, +wouldn't you like to join us to-night? Vera will be along and Mr. +Warrington and perhaps 'Diamond Jack' Braden—you know him?" +</P> + +<P> +Constance confessed frankly that she did not have the pleasure of the +acquaintance of the well-known turfman and first nighter. +</P> + +<P> +She hesitated. Perhaps it was that that Stella liked. Almost any one +else would have been overeager to accept. But to Constance, sure of +herself now, nothing of the sort was worth scrambling for. Besides, she +was wondering how a man with the fight of his life on his hands could +find time to lunch downtown even with Stella. +</P> + +<P> +"I've taken quite a fancy to you," pressed Stella. +</P> + +<P> +"Thank you, it's very kind of you," Constance answered. "I shall try +very hard to be there." +</P> + +<P> +"I'll leave a box for you at the office. Come around after the +performance to my dressing room." +</P> + +<P> +"Miss Larue, your taxi's waiting," announced Floretta. +</P> + +<P> +"Thanks. Are you going now, Mrs. Dunlap? Yes? Then ride down in the +elevator with me." +</P> + +<P> +They parted at the foot of the elevator and Constance walked through +the arcade of the office building in which the beauty parlor occupied +the top floor. She stopped at a florist's stand to admire the flowers, +but more for an excuse to look back at Stella. +</P> + +<P> +As Stella stepped into a taxicab, showing a generous wealth of silken +hosiery beneath the tango gown, Constance was aware that the driver of +another cab across the street was also interested. She noticed that he +turned and spoke to his fare through the open window. +</P> + +<P> +The cab swung around to follow the other and Constance caught a +fleeting glimpse of a familiar face. +</P> + +<P> +"Drummond," she exclaimed almost aloud. +</P> + +<P> +What did it mean? Why had the detective been employed to follow Stella? +Instinctively she concluded that he must be engaged by Mrs. Warrington. +</P> + +<P> +"I must accept Stella's invitation," she said to herself excitedly. "At +least, she should be put on her guard." +</P> + +<P> +That evening, as she was looking over the newspapers, her eye caught +the item in the Wall Street edition: +</P> + +<P> +RUBBER SYNDICATE DISSENSION +</P> + +<P> +Break in Stock Follows Effort of Strong Minority to Oust Warrington +from Presidency +</P> + +<P> +Then followed a brief account of the struggle of a powerful group of +directors to force Warrington, Braden, and the rest out, with a hint at +the scandal of which every one now was talking. +</P> + +<P> +"I never yet knew a man who went in for that sort of thing that lasted +long in business," she observed. "This is my chance—a crowd riding for +a fall." +</P> + +<P> +Constance chose a modest orchestra seat in preference to the place in a +box which Stella had reserved for her at the office, and, aside from +the purpose which was rapidly taking shape in her mind, she enjoyed the +play very much. Stella Larue, as the "Grass Widow," played her part +with a piquancy which Constance knew was not wholly a matter of book +knowledge. +</P> + +<P> +As the curtain went down, the audience, its appetite for the risque +whetted, filed out on Broadway with its myriad lights and continuous +film of motion. Constance made her way around to Stella's dressing room. +</P> + +<P> +She had scarcely been welcomed by Stella, whose cheeks beneath the +grease paint were now genuinely ablaze with excitement, when a man +entered. He was tall, spare, the type whose very bow is ingratiating +and whose "delighted, I assure you" is suave and compelling. +</P> + +<P> +Alfred Warrington seemed to be on very good terms indeed with Stella as +she introduced him to Constance. +</P> + +<P> +"You will join us, Mrs. Dunlap?" he asked, throwing an opera cloak over +Stella's shoulders. "Vera Charmant and Jack Braden are waiting for us +at the Little Montmartre." +</P> + +<P> +As he mentioned the famous cabaret, Constance took a little tighter +grip on herself and decided to take the plunge and see the affair out, +although that sort of thing had very little attraction for her. +</P> + +<P> +They were leaving the theater when she saw lurking in the crowd the +familiar figure of Drummond. She turned her head quickly and sank back +into the dark recesses of the limousine. +</P> + +<P> +Should she tell them now about him? +</P> + +<P> +She leaned over to Warrington. "I saw a man in the crowd just now who +seemed to be quite interested in us," she said quickly. "Can't we drive +around a bit to throw him off if he should get into a cab?" +</P> + +<P> +Warrington looked at her keenly. It was quite evident that he thought +it was Constance who was being followed, not Stella or himself. +Constance decided quickly to say nothing more that would prejudice +Stella, but as Warrington directed his driver to run up through the +park she saw that, far from alarming him, the words had only added a +zest of mystery about herself. +</P> + +<P> +They left the Park and the car jolted them quickly now over the uneven +asphalt to the palace of pleasure, where already the two advance guards +were holding one of the best tables in a house crowded with all classes +from debutantes to debauchees. +</P> + +<P> +"Diamond Jack" Braden was a heavy-set man with a debonnaire, dapper way +about him. He wore a flower in his buttonhole, a smart touch which +seemed very fetching, evidently, to the artistic Vera. +</P> + +<P> +Constance fell to studying him, as she did all men and women. "His +hands betray him," she said to herself, as she was introduced. +</P> + +<P> +They were in fact shielded from view as he bowed, one with the thumb +tucked in the corner of his trousers pocket, the other behind his back. +</P> + +<P> +"He is hiding something," flashed through her mind intuitively. And, +when she analyzed it, she felt still that there was nothing fanciful +about the idea. It was simply a little unconscious piece of evidence. +</P> + +<P> +From the start the cabaret was pretty rapid. When they entered, two of +the performers were rendering the Apache dance with an abandon that +improved on its namesake. Scarcely had they finished when the orchestra +began all over again, and a couple of diners from the tables glided +past them on the dancing floor, then another couple and another. +</P> + +<P> +"Tanguez-vous?" bowed Braden, leaning over to Stella. +</P> + +<P> +"Oui, je tanguerai," she nodded, catching the spirit of the place. +</P> + +<P> +It left Warrington and Constance at the table with Vera, and as +Constance looked eagerly after the graceful form of the little actress, +Warrington asked, "Will you dance!" +</P> + +<P> +"No, thank you," she said, trying him out. "I haven't had time to learn +these new steps. And, besides, I have had a bad day in the market. +Steel, Reading, everything is off. Not that I have lost much—but it's +what I haven't made." +</P> + +<P> +Warrington, who had been about to repeat his question to Vera, turned +suddenly. This was something new to him, to meet a woman like +Constance. If she knew about other stocks, she must know about the +Syndicate. Already he had felt an attraction toward Constance +physically, an attraction of maturity which somehow or other seemed +more satisfying, at least novel, in contrast with, the gay butterfly +talk of Stella. +</P> + +<P> +He did not ask Vera to dance. Instead he began banteringly to discuss +Wall Street and in five minutes he found out that she really knew as +much about certain features of the game as he did. She did not need to +be told that Alfred Warrington, plunger, man about town, was quite +unexpectedly struck by her personality. +</P> + +<P> +Now and then she could see Stella eyeing her covertly. The little +actress had had, like many another, a few dollars to invest or rather +with which to speculate. Her method had been usually to make a quick +profit on a tip from some Wall Street friend. Often, if the tip went +wrong, the friend would return the money to the unsuspecting little +girl, with some muttered apology about having been unable to get it +placed in time, and then, as the market went down or up, seeing that it +was too late, adding a congratulation that at least the principal was +saved if there was no profit. +</P> + +<P> +The little actress was plainly piqued. She saw, though she did not +understand, that Constance was a different kind of plunger from what +she had thought at first up at Charmant's. Instead of trying to compete +with Constance in her field, she redoubled her efforts in her own. Was +Warrington, a live spender, to slip through her grasp for a chance +acquaintance? +</P> + +<P> +Another dance. This time it was Stella and Warrington. Braden, who had +served excellently as a foil to lead Warrington on when he had eyes for +no one else, not even Vera, was left severely alone. Nothing was said, +not an action done openly, but Constance, woman-like, could feel the +contest in the air. And she felt just a little quiver when they sat +down and Warrington resumed the conversation with her where he had left +it. Even the daring cut of Stella's gown and the exaggerated proximity +of her dainty person had failed this time. +</P> + +<P> +As they chatted gaily, Constance enjoyed her triumph to the full. Yes, +she could see that Stella was violently jealous. But she intended that +she should be. That was now a part of her plan as it shaped itself in +her mind, since she had plunged or, perhaps better, had been dragged +into the game. +</P> + +<P> +As the evening wore on and the dancing became more furious, Warrington +seemed to catch the spirit of recklessness that was in the very air. He +talked more recklessly, once in a while with a bitterness not aimed at +any one in particular, which passed among the others as blase sarcasm +of one who had seen much and to whom even the fastest was slow. +</P> + +<P> +But to Constance, as she tried to fathom him, it presented an entirely +different interpretation. For example, she asked herself, why had he +been so ready, apparently, to transfer his interest from Stella? Was it +because, having cut loose from the one feminine tie that morally bound +him, he no longer felt any restraint in cutting loose from others? Was +it the same spirit that had carried him on in the money game, having +cut loose from one financial principle, to let all go and to guide his +course as close to the edge of things as he dared? There had been the +same reckless bravado in the way he had urged on the driver of his car +in the wild ride of the earlier evening, violating the speed laws yet +succeeding in escaping the traffic squad. +</P> + +<P> +Warrington was a plunger. Yet there was something about him that was +different from others she had seen. Perhaps it was that he had a +conscience, even though he had succeeded in detaching himself from it. +</P> + +<P> +And Stella. There was something different about her, too. Constance +more than once was on the point of revising her estimate of the little +actress. Was she, after all, wholly mercenary in her attitude toward +Warrington? Was he merely a live spender whom she could not afford to +lose? Or was she merely a beautiful, delicate creature caught in the +merciless maelstrom of the life into which she had been thrown? Did she +realize the perilous position this all was placing her in? +</P> + +<P> +They were among the last to leave and Vera and Braden offered to take +Constance to her apartment in Braden's car, while Stella contrived +prettily to take so much of Warrington's time with the wraps that by +the time they were ready to go the manner of the breaking up of the +party was as she wanted it. In her final triumph she could not help +just an extra inflection on, "I hope I'll see you again at Vera's soon, +my dear." +</P> + +<P> +All night, or at least all that was left of it, Constance tried to +straighten out the whirl of her thoughts. With the morning she had an +idea. Now, in a moment when the exhilaration of the gay life was at low +ebb, she must see Stella. +</P> + +<P> +It was early yet, but Stella was not at her hotel when Constance +cautiously called up the office to find out. Where was she? Constance +drove around to Charmant's on the chance that she might be there. Vera +greeted her a trifle coldly, she thought, but then this was not +midnight at the Montmartre. No, Stella was not there, she said, but +nevertheless Constance decided to wait. +</P> + +<P> +"I'm all unstrung," confided Constance, with an assumed air of languor, +as she dropped into a chair. +</P> + +<P> +Charmant, as fresh as if she had just emerged from the proverbial +bandbox, nodded knowingly. "A Turkish bath, massage, something to tone +you up," she advised. +</P> + +<P> +With alert eyes Constance went patiently through the process of +freshening, first in the steamy hot room where she had met Stella the +day before, then the deliciously cool shower, gentle massage, and all +the rest. +</P> + +<P> +At one of the little white tables of the manicures she noticed a +pretty, rather sad-faced little woman. There was something about her +that attracted Constance's attention, although she could not have told +exactly what it was. +</P> + +<P> +"You know her?" whispered Floretta, bursting with excitement. "No? +Why,—" and here she paused and dropped her voice even lower,—"that's +Mrs. Warrington." +</P> + +<P> +"Not the—" +</P> + +<P> +"Yes," she nodded, "his wife. You know, she comes here twice a week. We +have to do some tall scheming to keep them apart. No, it's not vanity, +either. It's—well—you see, she's trying to get him back, to look like +a sport." +</P> + +<P> +Constance thought of the hopeless fight so far which the little woman +was waging to keep up with the dashing actress. Then she thought of +Warrington, of last night, of how he had sought her, so ready, it +seemed, to leave even the "other woman." Then Floretta's remark +repeated itself mechanically. "We have to do some tall scheming to keep +them apart." Was Stella here, after all? +</P> + +<P> +Mrs. Warrington was not a bad looking woman and in fact it was +difficult to see how she expected to be improved by cosmetics that +would lighten her complexion, bleaches that would flaxen her hair, +tortures for this, that, and the other defect, real or imagined. +</P> + +<P> +Now, however, she was a creature of reinforcements, from her puffy +masses of light hair to her French heels and embroidered stockings that +showed through the slash in the drapery of her gown. +</P> + +<P> +Constance felt sorry for her, deeply sorry. The whole thing seemed not +in keeping with her. She was a home-maker, not a butterfly. Was +Warrington worth it all? asked Constance of herself. "At least she +thinks so," flashed over her, as Mrs. Warrington rose, and left the +room, watchfully guided by Floretta to the next process in her course +in beautification. +</P> + +<P> +Constance sank back luxuriously on the cushions of her chaise longue. +She longed to explore the beauty parlor, to leave the rest room and go +down the narrow corridor, prying into the secrets of the little +dressing rooms that opened into it. What did they conceal? Why had Vera +seemed so distant? Was it the natural reaction of the "morning after," +or was Stella really there and was she keeping her away from Mrs. +Warrington to prevent friction between two clients that would have been +annoying to all? +</P> + +<P> +She could reach no conclusion, except that there was a feeling of +luxurious well-being as she lolled back into the deep recesses of the +lounge in the corner of the room separated from the next room by a thin +board partition. +</P> + +<P> +Suddenly her attention was arrested by muffled voices on the other side +of the partition. She strained her ears. She could not, of course, see +the speakers, or even recognize their voices, but they were a man and a +woman. +</P> + +<P> +"We must get the thing settled right away," she overheard the man's +voice. "You see how he is? Every new face attracts him. See how he took +to that new one last night. Who knows what may happen? By and by some +one may come along and spoil all." +</P> + +<P> +"Couldn't we use her?" asked the woman. +</P> + +<P> +"No, you can't use that woman. She's too clever. But we must do +something, right away—to-night if possible." +</P> + +<P> +A pause. "How, then?" +</P> + +<P> +Another pause and the whispered monosyllable, "Dope!" +</P> + +<P> +"What?" +</P> + +<P> +"I have it here. Use a dozen of them. They can be snuffed as a powder, +or it can be put in a drink. If you want more—see, I will put the +bottle on this shelf—'way back. No one will see it." +</P> + +<P> +"Don't you think I ought to write a note, something that will be sure +to get him up here?" +</P> + +<P> +"Yes—just a line or two—as if in haste." +</P> + +<P> +There was a sound as if of tearing a sheet of note paper from a pad. +</P> + +<P> +"Is that all right?" +</P> + +<P> +"Yes. As soon as the market closes. There will be nothing done to-day. +To-morrow's the day. To-night we must get him going and in the meantime +a meeting will be held, the plan arranged at the Prince Henry +to-night—and then the smash. Between them all, he won't know what has +struck him." +</P> + +<P> +"All right. You had better go out as you came in. It's better that no +one up here should suspect anything." +</P> + +<P> +The voices ceased. +</P> + +<P> +What did it mean! Constance rose and sauntered around into the next +room. It was empty, but when she looked hastily up on the shelf there +was a bottle of white tablets and on a table a pad of note paper from +which a sheet had been torn. +</P> + +<P> +She picked up the bottle gingerly. Who had touched it? Her mind was +working quickly. Somewhere she had read of finger prints and the +subject had interested her because the system had been introduced in +banks and she saw that it was going to become more and more important. +</P> + +<P> +But how did they get them in a case like this? She had read of some +powder that adhered to the marks left by the sweat glands of the +fingers. There was the talcum powder. Perhaps it would do. +</P> + +<P> +Quickly she shook the box gently over the glass. Then she blew it off +carefully. +</P> + +<P> +Clear, sharp, distinct, there were the imprints of fingers! +</P> + +<P> +But the paper. Talcum powder would not bring them out on that. It must +be something black. +</P> + +<P> +A lead pencil! Eagerly she seized it and with, a little silver +pen-knife whittled off the wood. Scrape! scrape! until she had a neat +little pile of finely powdered graphite. +</P> + +<P> +Then she poured it on the paper and taking the sheet daintily by the +edges, so that she would not mix her own finger prints with the others, +she rolled the powder back and forth. As she looked anxiously she could +see the little grains adhering to the paper. +</P> + +<P> +A fine camel's hair brush lay on the table, for penciling. She took it +deftly. It made her think of that first time when she painted the +checks for Carlton. A lump came into her throat. +</P> + +<P> +There they were, the second pair of telltale prints. But what tale did +they tell? Whose were they? +</P> + +<P> +Her reading on finger prints had been very limited but, like everything +she did, to the point. She studied those before her, traced out as best +she could the loops, whorls, arches, and composites, even counted the +ridges on some of them. It was not so difficult, after all. +</P> + +<P> +She stopped in an uptown branch of her brokers in one of the hotels. +The market was very quiet, and even the Rubber Syndicate seemed to be +marking time. As she went out she passed the telephone booths. Should +she call up Warrington? Would he misinterpret it? What if he did? She +was mistress of her own tongue. She need not say too much. Besides, if +she were going on a fishing expedition, a telephone line was as good as +any other—better than a visit. +</P> + +<P> +"This is Mrs. Dunlap," she said directly. +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, how do you do, Mrs. Dunlap. I have been intending to call you up, +but," he paused, and added, "you know we are having a pretty strenuous +time down here." +</P> + +<P> +There was a genuine ring to the first part of his reply. But the rest +of it trailed off into the old blase tone. +</P> + +<P> +"I'm sorry," she replied. "I enjoyed last night so much." +</P> + +<P> +"Did you?" came back eagerly. +</P> + +<P> +Before he could add anything she asked, "I suppose you are going to see +Stella again this afternoon." +</P> + +<P> +"Why—er—yes," he hesitated. "I think so." +</P> + +<P> +"Where? At Vera's?" she asked, adopting a tone not of curiosity but of +chiding him for seeing Stella instead of herself. +</P> + +<P> +The moment of hesitation, before he said that he didn't know, told her +the truth. It was as good as a plain, "Yes." +</P> + +<P> +For a few moments they chatted. As she hung up the receiver after his +deferential goodbye, Constance knew that she had gained a new angle +from which to observe Warrington's character. He was intensely human +and he was "in wrong." Here was a mess, all around. +</P> + +<P> +The day wore on, yet brought no indecision as to what she would do, +though it brought no solution as to how to do it. The inaction was +worse than anything else. The last quotations had come in over the +ticker, showing the Syndicate stocks still unchanged. She left her +brokers and sat for a few moments in the rotunda of the hotel, +considering. She could stand it no longer. Whatever happened, she would +run around to Charmant's. Some excuse would occur when she got there. +</P> + +<P> +As Constance alighted from the private elevator, a delicate scent as of +attar of roses smote lightly on her, and there was, if anything, a +greater air of exotic warmth about the place. Everything, from the +electric bulbs buried deep in the clusters of amber artificial flowers +to the bright green leaves on the dainty trellises, the little +square-paned windows and white furniture, bespoke luxury. There was an +inviting "tone" to it all. +</P> + +<P> +"I'm glad I've found you," began Constance to Stella, as though nothing +had happened. "There is something I'd like to say to you besides +thanking you most kindly for the good time last—" +</P> + +<P> +"Is there anything I can do for you?" interrupted Madame Charmant in a +business like tone. "I am sure that Miss Larue invited you last night +because she thought you were lonely. She and Mr. Warrington, you know, +are old friends." +</P> + +<P> +Charmant emphasized the remark to mean, "You trespassed on forbidden +ground, if you thought you could get him away." +</P> + +<P> +Constance seemed not to notice the implication. +</P> + +<P> +"There is something I'd like to say," she repeated gently. +</P> + +<P> +She picked up a little inking pad which lay on a mahogany secretary +which Vera used as an office desk. +</P> + +<P> +"If you will be so kind, Stella, as to place your fingers flat on this +pad-never mind about the ink; call Floretta; she will wipe them off +afterwards-and then on this piece of paper, I won't bother you further." +</P> + +<P> +Almost before she knew it, the little actress had placed her dainty +white hand on the pad and then on the paper. +</P> + +<P> +Constance did the same, to illustrate, then called Floretta. "If Vera +will do as I have done," she said, offering her the pad, and taking her +hand. Charmant complied, and when Floretta arrived her impressions were +added to the others. +</P> + +<P> +"There's a man wishes to see you, outside, Madame," said Floretta, +wiping off the soiled finger tips. +</P> + +<P> +"Tell him to wait—in the little room." +</P> + +<P> +Floretta opened the door to go out and through it Constance caught +sight of a familiar face. +</P> + +<P> +A moment later the man was in the room with them. It was Drummond, the +same sneer, the same assurance in his manner. +</P> + +<P> +"So," he snarled at Constance. "You here?" +</P> + +<P> +"I seem to be here," she answered calmly. "Why?" +</P> + +<P> +"Never mind why," he blustered. "I knew you saw me the other night. I +heard you tell 'em to hit it up so as to shake me. But I found out all +right." +</P> + +<P> +"Found out what?" asked Constance coldly. +</P> + +<P> +"Say, that's about your style, isn't it? You always get in when it +comes to trimming the good spenders, don't you?" +</P> + +<P> +"Mr. Drummond," she replied, "I don't care to talk to you." +</P> + +<P> +"You don't, hey? Well, perhaps, when the time comes you'll have to +talk. How about that?" +</P> + +<P> +She was thinking rapidly. Was Mrs. Warrington preparing to strike a +blow that would be the last impulse necessary to send the plunger down +for the last time? She decided to take a chance, to temporize until +some one else made a move. +</P> + +<P> +"I'd thank you to place your fingers on this pad," said Constance +quietly. "I'm making a collection of these things." +</P> + +<P> +"You are, are you?" +</P> + +<P> +"Yes," she cut short. "And if my collection isn't large enough I shall +call up Mrs. Warrington and ask her to come over, too," she added +significantly. +</P> + +<P> +Floretta entered again. "Please wipe the ink off Mr. Drummond's +fingers," ordered Constance quietly, still holding out the pad. +</P> + +<P> +"Confound your impudence," he ground out, seizing the pad. "There! What +do you mean by Mrs. Warrington? What has she to do with this? Have a +care, Mrs. Dunlap—you're on the wrong track here, and going the wrong +way." +</P> + +<P> +"Mr. Warrington is—" began Floretta. +</P> + +<P> +"Show him in—quick," demanded Constance, determined to bring the +affair to a show-down on the spot. +</P> + +<P> +As the door swung open, Warrington looked at the group in unfeigned +surprise. +</P> + +<P> +"Mr. Warrington," greeted Constance without giving any of the others a +chance, "this morning, I heard a little conversation up here. Floretta, +will you go into the little room, and on the top shelf you will find a +bottle. Bring it here carefully. I have a sheet of paper, also, which I +am going to show you. I had already seen the little woman, Mr. +Warrington, whom you have treated so unjustly. She was here trying +vainly to win you back by those arts which she thinks must appeal to +you." +</P> + +<P> +Floretta returned with the bottle and placed it on the secretary beside +Constance. +</P> + +<P> +"Some one took some tablets from this bottle and gave them to some one +else who wrote on this paper," she resumed, bending first over the +paper she had torn from the pad. "Ah, a loop with twelve ridges, +another loop, a whorl, a whorl, a loop. The marks on this paper +correspond precisely with those made here just now by—Vera Charmant +herself!" +</P> + +<P> +"You get out of here—quick," snarled Drummond, placing himself between +the now furious Vera and Constance. +</P> + +<P> +"One minute," replied Constance calmly. "I am sure Mr. Warrington is a +gentleman, if you are not. Perhaps I have no finger prints to +correspond with those on the bottle. If not, I am sure that we can send +for some one whose prints will do so." +</P> + +<P> +She was studying the bottle. +</P> + +<P> +"The other, however," she said slowly to conceal her own surprise, "was +a person who has been set to trail you and Stella, Mr. Warrington, a +detective named Drummond!" +</P> + +<P> +Suddenly the truth flashed over her. Drummond was not employed by Mrs. +Warrington at all. Then by whom? By the directors. And the rest of +these people? Grafters who were using Stella to bait the hook. Braden +had gone over to them, had aided in plunging Warrington into the wild +life until he could no longer play the business game as before. +Charmant was his confederate, Drummond his witness. +</P> + +<P> +"Stella," said Constance, turning suddenly to the little actress, +"Stella, they are using you, 'Diamond Jack' and Vera, using you to lead +him on, playing the game of the minority of the directors of the +Syndicate to get him out. There is to be a meeting of the directors +to-night at the Prince Henry. He was to be in no condition to go. Are +you willing to be mixed up in such a scandal?" +</P> + +<P> +Stella Larue was crying into a lace handkerchief. "You—you are +all—against me," she sobbed. "What have I done?" +</P> + +<P> +"Nothing," soothed Constance, patting her shoulder. "As for Charmant +and Drummond, they are tied by these proofs," she added, tapping the +papers with the prints, then picking them up and handing them to +Warrington. "I think if the story were told to the directors at the +Prince Henry to-night with reporters waiting downstairs in the lobby, +it might produce a quieting effect." +</P> + +<P> +Warrington was speechless. He saw them all against him, Vera, Braden, +Stella, Drummond. +</P> + +<P> +"More than that," added Constance, "nothing that you can ever do can +equal the patience, the faith of the little woman I saw here to-day, +slaving, yes, slaving for beauty. Here in my hand, in these scraps of +paper, I hold your old life,—not part of it, but ALL of it," she +emphasized. "You have your chance. Will you take it?" +</P> + +<P> +He looked up quickly at Stella Larue. She had risen impulsively and +flung her arms about Constance. +</P> + +<P> +"Yes," he muttered huskily, taking the papers, "all of it." +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap08"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER VIII +</H3> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +THE ABDUCTORS +</H3> + +<P> +"Take care of me—please—please!" +</P> + +<P> +A slip of a girl, smartly attired in a fur-trimmed dress and a chic +little feather-tipped hat, hurried up to Constance Dunlap late one +afternoon as she turned the corner below her apartment. +</P> + +<P> +"It isn't faintness or illness exactly—but—it's all so hazy," +stammered the girl breathlessly. "And I've forgotten who I am. I've +forgotten where I live—and a man has been following me—oh, ever so +long." +</P> + +<P> +The weariness in the tone of the last words caused Constance to look +more closely at the girl. Plainly she was on the verge of hysterics. +Tears were streaming down her pale cheeks and there were dark rings +under her eyes, suggestive of a haunting fear of something from which +she fled. +</P> + +<P> +Constance was astounded for the moment. Was the girl crazy? She had +heard of cases like this, but to meet one so unexpectedly was surely +disconcerting. +</P> + +<P> +"Who has been following you!" asked Constance gently, looking hastily +over her shoulder and seeing no one. +</P> + +<P> +"A man," exclaimed the girl, "but I think he has gone now." +</P> + +<P> +"Can't you think of your name!" urged Constance. "Try." +</P> + +<P> +"No," cried the girl, "no, I can't, I can't." +</P> + +<P> +"Or your address?" repeated Constance. "Try—try hard!" +</P> + +<P> +The girl looked vacantly about. +</P> + +<P> +"No," she sobbed, "it's all gone—all." +</P> + +<P> +Puzzled, Constance took her arm and slowly walked her up the street +toward her own apartment in the hope that she might catch sight of some +familiar face or be able to pull herself together. +</P> + +<P> +But it was of no use. +</P> + +<P> +They passed a policeman who eyed them sharply. The mere sight of the +blue-coated officer sent a shudder through the already trembling girl +on her arm. +</P> + +<P> +"Don't, don't let them take me to a hospital—don't," pleaded the girl +in a hoarse whisper when they had passed the officer. +</P> + +<P> +"I won't," reassured Constance. "Was that the man who was following +you?" +</P> + +<P> +"No—oh, no," sobbed the girl nervously looking back. +</P> + +<P> +"Who was he, then?" asked Constance eagerly. +</P> + +<P> +The girl did not answer, but continued to look back wildly from time to +time, although there was no doubt that, if he existed at all, the man +had disappeared. +</P> + +<P> +Suddenly Constance realized that she had on her hands a case of +aphasia, perhaps real, perhaps induced by a drug. +</P> + +<P> +At any rate, the fear of being sent away to an institution was so +strong in the poor creature that Constance felt intuitively how +disastrous to her might be the result of disregarding the obsession. +</P> + +<P> +She was in a quandary. What should she do with the girl? To leave her +on the street was out of the question. She was now more helpless than +ever. +</P> + +<P> +They had reached the door of the apartment. Gently she led the +trembling girl into her own home. +</P> + +<P> +But now the question of what to do arose with redoubled force. She +hesitated to call a physician, at least yet, because his first advice +would probably be to send the poor little stranger to the psychopathic +ward of some hospital. +</P> + +<P> +Constance's eye happened to rest on the dictionary in her bookcase. +Perhaps she might recall the girl's name to her, if she were not +shamming, by reading over the list of women's names in the back of the +book. +</P> + +<P> +It meant many minutes, perhaps hours. But then Constance reflected on +what might have happened to the girl if she had chanced to appeal to +some one who had not felt a true interest in her. It was worth trying. +She would do it. +</P> + +<P> +Starting with "A," she read slowly. +</P> + +<P> +"Is your name Abigail?" +</P> + +<P> +Down through Barbara, Camilla, Deborah, Edith, Faith, she read. +</P> + +<P> +"Flora?" she asked. +</P> + +<P> +The girl seemed to apprehend something, appear less blank. +</P> + +<P> +"Florence?" persisted Constance. +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, yes," she cried, "that's it—that's my name." +</P> + +<P> +But as for the last name and the address she was just as hazy as ever. +Still, there was now something different about her. +</P> + +<P> +"Florence—Florence what?" reiterated Constance patiently. +</P> + +<P> +There was no answer. But with the continued repetition it seemed as if +some depth in her nature had been stirred. Constance could not help +feeling that the girl had really found herself. +</P> + +<P> +She had risen and was facing Constance, both hands pressed to her +throbbing temples as if to keep her head from bursting. Constance had +assisted her off with her coat and hat, and now the sartorial wreck of +her masses of blonde hair was apparent. +</P> + +<P> +"I suppose," she cried incoherently, "I'm just one more of the +thousands of girls who drop out of sight every year." +</P> + +<P> +Constance listened in amazement. As the spell of her influence seemed +to calm the overwrought mind of the girl there succeeded a hardness in +her tone that was wholly out of keeping with her youth. There was +something that breathed of a past where there should have been nothing +but the thought of a future. +</P> + +<P> +"Tell me why," soothed Constance with an air that invited confidence. +</P> + +<P> +The girl looked up and again passed her hand over her white forehead +with its mass of tangled fallen hair. Somehow Constance felt a tingling +sensation of sympathy in her heart. Impulsively she put out her hand +and took the cold moist hand of the girl. +</P> + +<P> +"Because," she hesitated, struggling now with re-flooding +consciousness, "because—I don't know. I thought, perhaps—" she added, +dropping her eyes, "you could—help me." +</P> + +<P> +She was speaking rapidly enough now, "I think they have employed +detectives to trace me. One of them is almost up with me. I'm afraid I +can't slip out of the net again. And—I—I won't go back to them. I +can't. I won't." +</P> + +<P> +"Go back to whom?" queried her friend. "Detectives employed by whom?" +</P> + +<P> +"My folks," she answered quickly. +</P> + +<P> +Constance was surprised. Least of all had she expected that. +</P> + +<P> +"Why won't you go home?" she prompted as the girl seemed about to lapse +into a sort of stolid reticence. +</P> + +<P> +"Home?" she repeated bitterly. "Home? No one would believe my story. I +couldn't go home, now. They have made it impossible for me to go home. +I mean, every newspaper has published my picture. There were headlines +for days, and only by chance I was not recognized." +</P> + +<P> +She was sobbing now convulsively. "If they had only let me alone! I +might have gone back, then. But now—after the newspapers and the +search—never! And yet I am going to have revenge some day. When he +least expects it I am going to tell the truth and—" +</P> + +<P> +She stopped. +</P> + +<P> +"And what?" asked Constance. +</P> + +<P> +"Tell the truth—and then do a cowardly thing. I would—" +</P> + +<P> +"You would not!" blazed Constance. +</P> + +<P> +There was no mistaking the meaning. +</P> + +<P> +"Leave it to me. Trust me. I will help you." +</P> + +<P> +She pulled the girl down on the divan beside her. +</P> + +<P> +"Why talk of suicide?" mused Constance. "You can plead this aphasia I +have just seen. I know lots of newspaper women. We could carry it +through so that even the doctors would help us. Remember, aphasia will +do for a girl nowadays what nothing else can do." +</P> + +<P> +"Aphasia!" Florence repeated harshly. "Call it what you +like—weakness—anything. I—I loved that man—not the one who followed +me—another. I believed him. But he left me—left me in a place—across +in Brooklyn. They said I was a fool, that some other fellow, perhaps +better, with more money, would take care of me. But I left. I got a +place in a factory. Then some one in the factory became suspicious. I +had saved a little. It took me to Boston. +</P> + +<P> +"Again some one grew suspicious. I came back here, here—the only place +to hide. I got another position as waitress in the Betsy Ross Tea Room. +There I was able to stay until yesterday. But then a man came in. He +had been there before. He seemed too interested in me, not in a way +that others have been, but in me—my name. Some how I suspected. I put +on my hat and coat. I fled. I think he followed me. All night I have +walked the streets and ridden in cars to get away from him. At last—I +appealed to you." +</P> + +<P> +The girl had sunk back into the soft pillows of the couch beside her +new friend and hid her face. Softly Constance patted and smoothed the +wealth of golden hair. +</P> + +<P> +"You—you poor little girl," she sympathized. +</P> + +<P> +Then a film came over her own eyes. +</P> + +<P> +"New York took me at a critical time in my own life," she said more to +herself than to the girl. "She sheltered me, gave me a new start. What +she did for me she will do for any other person who really wishes to +make a fresh start in life. I made few acquaintances, no friends. +Fortunately, the average New Yorker asks only that his neighbor leave +him alone. No hermit could find better and more complete solitude than +in the heart of this great city." +</P> + +<P> +Constance looked pityingly at the girl before her. +</P> + +<P> +"Why can't you tell them," she suggested, "that you wanted to be +independent, that you went away to make your own living?" +</P> + +<P> +"But—they—my father—is well off. And they have this detective who +follows me. He will find me some day—for the reward—and will tell the +truth." +</P> + +<P> +"The reward?" +</P> + +<P> +"Yes—a thousand dollars. Don't you remember reading—" +</P> + +<P> +The girl stopped short as if to check herself. +</P> + +<P> +"You—you are Florence Gibbons!" gasped Constance as with a rush there +came over her the recollection of a famous unsolved mystery of several +months before. +</P> + +<P> +The girl did not look up as Constance bent over and put her arms about +her. +</P> + +<P> +"Who was he?" she asked persuasively. +</P> + +<P> +"Preston—Lansing Preston," she sobbed bitterly. "Only the other day I +read of his engagement to a girl in Chicago—beautiful, in society. +Oh—I could KILL him," she cried, throwing out her arms passionately. +"Think of it. He—rich, powerful, respected. I—poor, almost crazy—an +outcast." +</P> + +<P> +Constance did not interfere until the tempest had passed. +</P> + +<P> +"What name did you give at the tea room?" asked Constance. +</P> + +<P> +"Viola Cole," answered Florence. +</P> + +<P> +"Rest here," soothed Constance. "Here at least you are safe. I have an +idea. I shall be back soon." +</P> + +<P> +The Betsy Ross was still open after the rush of tired shoppers and +later of business women to whom this was not only a restaurant but a +club. Constance entered and sat down. +</P> + +<P> +"Is the manager in?" she asked of the waitress. +</P> + +<P> +"Mrs. Palmer? No. But, if you care to wait, I think she'll be back +directly." +</P> + +<P> +As Constance sat toying absently with some food at one of the snowy +white tables, a man entered. A man in a tea room is an anomaly. For the +tea room is a woman's institution, run by women for women. Men enter +with diffidence, and seldom alone. This man was quite evidently looking +for some one. +</P> + +<P> +His eye fell on Constance. Her heart gave a leap. It was her old enemy, +Drummond, the detective. For a moment he hesitated, then bowed, and +came over to her table. +</P> + +<P> +"Peculiar places, these tea rooms," observed Drummond. +</P> + +<P> +Constance was doing some quick thinking. Could this be the detective +Florence Gibbons had mentioned? +</P> + +<P> +"The only thing lacking to make them complete," he rattled on, "is a +license. Now, take those places that have a ladies' bar—that do openly +what tea rooms do covertly. They don't reckon with the attitude of +women. This is New York—not Paris. Such things are years off. I don't +say they'll not come or that women won't use them—but not by that +name—not yet." +</P> + +<P> +Constance wondered what his cynical inconsequentialities masked. +</P> + +<P> +"I think it adds to the interest," she observed, watching him +furtively, "this evasion of the laws." +</P> + +<P> +Drummond was casting about for something to do and, naturally, to a +mind like his, a drink was the solution. Evidently, however, there were +degrees of brazenness, even in tea rooms. The Betsy Ross not only would +not produce a labeled bottle and an obvious glass but stoutly denied +their ability to fill such an order, even whispered. +</P> + +<P> +"Russian tea?" suggested Drummond cryptically. +</P> + +<P> +"How will you have it—with Scotch or rye?" asked the waitress. +</P> + +<P> +"Bourbon," hazarded Drummond. +</P> + +<P> +When the "Russian tea" arrived it was in a neat little pot with two +others, the first containing real tea and the second hot water. It was +served virtuously in tea cups, so opaquely concealed that no one but +the clandestine drinker could know what sort of poison was being served. +</P> + +<P> +Mrs. Palmer was evidently later than expected. Drummond fidgeted after +the manner of a man out of his accustomed habitat. And yet he did not +seem to be interested really in Constance, or even in Mrs. Palmer. For +after a few moments, he rose and excused himself. +</P> + +<P> +"How did HE come here?" Constance asked herself over and over. +</P> + +<P> +As far as she could reason it out, there could be only one reason. +Drummond was clearly up with Florence. Did he also know that Constance +was shielding her? +</P> + +<P> +The more she thought of it, the more she shuddered at the tactless way +in which the detective would perform the act of "charity" by +discovering the lost girl—and pocketing the reward. +</P> + +<P> +If her family only knew, how eagerly they might let her come back in +her own way. She looked up the address of Everett Gibbons while she was +waiting, a half-formed plan taking definite shape in her mind. +</P> + +<P> +What—she did must be done quickly. Here at the tea room at least +Florence, or rather Viola, was known. Perhaps the best way, after all, +was to let her be discovered here. They could not deny that she had +been working for them acceptably for some time. +</P> + +<P> +Half an hour later, Mrs. Palmer, a bustling business woman, came in and +the waitress pointed her out to Constance. +</P> + +<P> +"Did you have a waitress here named Viola Cole?" began Constance, +watching keenly the effect of her inquiry. +</P> + +<P> +"Yes," replied Mrs. Palmer in a tone of interest that reassured +Constance that, if there were any connection between Drummond's +presence and Mrs. Palmer, it was wholly on his seeking. "But she +disappeared last night. A most peculiar girl—but a splendid worker." +</P> + +<P> +"She has been ill," Constance hastened to explain. "I am a friend of +hers. I have a business downtown and could not come around until +to-night to tell you that she will be back to-morrow if you will take +her back." +</P> + +<P> +"Of course I'll take her back. I'm sorry she's ill," and Mrs. Palmer +bustled out into the kitchen, not unfeelingly but merely because that +was her manner. +</P> + +<P> +Constance paid her check and left the tea room. So far she had +succeeded. The next thing she had planned was a visit to Mr. Gibbons. +That need not take long, for she was not going to tell anything. Her +idea was merely to pave the way. +</P> + +<P> +The Gibbons she found, lived in a large house on one of the numerous +side streets from the Park, in a neighborhood that was in fact +something more than merely well-to-do. +</P> + +<P> +Fortunately she found Everett Gibbons in and was ushered into his +study, where he sat poring over some papers and enjoying an +after-dinner cigar. +</P> + +<P> +"Mr. Gibbons," began Constance, "I believe there is a one thousand +dollar reward for news of the whereabouts of your daughter, Florence." +</P> + +<P> +"Yes," he said in a colorless tone that betrayed the hopelessness of +the long search. "But we have traced down so many false clues that we +have given up hope. Since the day she went away, we have never been +able to get the slightest trace of her. Still, we welcome outside aid." +</P> + +<P> +"Of detectives?" she asked. +</P> + +<P> +"Official and private—paid and volunteer—anybody," he answered. "I +myself have come to the belief that she is dead, for that is the only +explanation I can think of for her long silence." +</P> + +<P> +"She is not dead," replied Constance in a low tone. +</P> + +<P> +"Not dead?" he repeated eagerly, catching at even such a straw as an +unknown woman might cast out. "Then you know—" +</P> + +<P> +"No," she interrupted positively, "I cannot tell you any more. You must +call off all other searchers. I will let you know." +</P> + +<P> +"When?" +</P> + +<P> +"To-morrow, perhaps the next day. I will call you on the telephone." +</P> + +<P> +She rose and made a hasty adieu before the man who had been prematurely +aged might overwhelm her with questions and break down her resolution +to carry the thing through as she had seen best. +</P> + +<P> +Cheerily, Constance turned the key in the lock of her door. +</P> + +<P> +There was no light and somehow the silence smote on her ominously. +</P> + +<P> +"Florence!" she called. +</P> + +<P> +There was no answer. +</P> + +<P> +Not a sign indicated her presence. There was the divan with the pillows +disarranged as they had been when she left. The furniture was in the +same position as before. Hastily she went from one room to another. +Florence had disappeared! +</P> + +<P> +She went to the door again. All seemed right there. If any one had +entered, it must have been because he was admitted, for there were no +marks to indicate that the lock had been forced. +</P> + +<P> +She called up the tea room. Mrs. Palmer was very sympathetic, but there +had been no trace of "Viola Cole" there yet. +</P> + +<P> +"You will let me know if you get any word?" asked Constance anxiously. +</P> + +<P> +"Surely," came back Mrs. Palmer's cordial reply. +</P> + +<P> +A hundred dire possibilities crowded through her mind. Might Florence +be held somewhere as a "white slave"—not by physical force but by +circumstances, ignorant of her rights, afraid to break away again? +</P> + +<P> +Or was it suicide, as she had threatened? She could not believe it. +Nothing could have happened in such a short time to change her +resolution about revenge. +</P> + +<P> +The recollection of all the stories she had read recently crossed her +mind. Could it be a case of drugs? The girl had given no evidence of +being a "dope" fiend. +</P> + +<P> +Perhaps some one had entered, after all. +</P> + +<P> +She thought of the so-called "poisoned needle" cases. Might she not +have been spirited off in that way? Constance had doubted the stories. +She knew that almost any doctor would say that it was impossible to +inject a narcotic by a sudden jab of a hypodermic syringe. That was +rather a slow, careful and deliberate operation, to be submitted to +with patience. +</P> + +<P> +Yet Florence was gone! +</P> + +<P> +Suddenly it flashed over Constance that Drummond might not be seeking +the reward primarily, after all. His first object might be shielding +Preston. She recollected that Mr. Gibbons had said nothing about +Drummond, either one way or the other. And if he were both shielding +Preston and working for the reward, he would care little how much +Florence suffered. He might be playing both ends to serve himself. +</P> + +<P> +She rang the elevator bell. +</P> + +<P> +"Has anybody called at my apartment while I was out?" she asked. +</P> + +<P> +"Yes'm. A man came here." +</P> + +<P> +"And you let him up?" +</P> + +<P> +"I didn't know you were out. You see I had just come on. He said he was +to meet some one at your apartment. And when he pressed the buzzer, the +door opened, and I ran the elevator down again. I thought it was all +right, ma'am." +</P> + +<P> +"And then what?" inquired Constance breathlessly. +</P> + +<P> +"Well, in about five minutes my bell rang. I ran the elevator up again, +and, waiting, was this man with a girl I had never seen before. You +understand—I thought it was all right—he told me he was going to meet +some one." +</P> + +<P> +"Yes—yes. I understand. Oh, my God, if I had only thought to leave +word not to let her go. How did she look?" +</P> + +<P> +"Her clothes, you mean, Ma'am?" +</P> + +<P> +"No—her face, her eyes!" +</P> + +<P> +"Beggin' your pardon, I thought she was—well, er,—acted +queer—scared—dazed-like." +</P> + +<P> +"You didn't notice which way they went, I suppose!" +</P> + +<P> +"No ma'am, I didn't." +</P> + +<P> +Constance turned back again into her empty apartment, heart-sick. In +spite of all she had planned and done, she was defeated—worse than +defeated. Where was Florence! What might not happen to her! She could +have sat down and cried. Instead she passed a feverishly restless night. +</P> + +<P> +All the next day passed, and still not a word. She felt her own +helplessness. She could not appeal to the police. That might defeat the +very end she sought. She was single-handed. For all she knew, she was +fighting the almost limitless power of brains and money of Preston. +Inquiry developed the fact that Preston himself was reported to be in +Chicago with his fiancee. Time and again she was on the point of making +the journey to let him know that some one at least was watching him. +But, she reflected, if she did that she might miss the one call from +Florence for help. +</P> + +<P> +Then she thought bitterly of the false hopes she had raised in the +despairing father of Florence Gibbons. It was maddening. +</P> + +<P> +Several times during the day Constance dropped into the Betsy Ross, +without finding any word. +</P> + +<P> +Late that night the buzzer on her door sounded. It was Mrs. Palmer +herself, with a letter at last, written on rough paper in pencil with a +trembling hand. +</P> + +<P> +Constance almost literally pounced on it. +</P> + +<P> +"Will you tell the lady who was so kind to me that while she was out +seeing you at the tea room, there was a call at her door? I didn't like +to open it, but when I asked who was there, a man said it was the +steam-fitter she had asked to call about the heat. +</P> + +<P> +"I opened the door. From that moment when I saw his face until I came +to myself here I remember nothing. I would write to her, only I don't +know where she lives. One of the bell-boys here is kind enough to +smuggle this note out for me addressed to the Betsy Boss. +</P> + +<P> +"Tell her please, that I am at a place in Brooklyn, I think, called +Lustgarten's—she can recognize it because it is at a railroad +crossing—steam railroads, not trolleys or elevateds. +</P> + +<P> +"I know you think me crazy, Mrs. Palmer, but the other lady can tell +you about it. Oh, it was the same horrible feeling that came over me +that night as before. It isn't a dream; it's more like a trance. It +comes in a second—usually when I am frightened. I suddenly feel +nervous and shaky. I can't tell what is going on around me. I lose my +hearing. Part of the time it is as though, I had a paralytic stroke of +the tongue. The next day, perhaps, it is gone. But while it lasts it is +terrifying. It's like walking into a new world, with everybody, +everything strange about me." +</P> + +<P> +The note ended with a most pathetic appeal. +</P> + +<P> +Constance was already nervously putting on her hat. +</P> + +<P> +"You are going to go there?" asked Mrs. Palmer. +</P> + +<P> +"If I can locate the place," she answered. +</P> + +<P> +"Aren't you afraid?" inquired the other. +</P> + +<P> +Constance did not reply. She ostentatiously slipped a little +ivory-handled revolver into her handbag. +</P> + +<P> +"It's a new one," she explained finally, "like nothing you ever heard +of before, I guess. I bought it only the other day after a friend of +mine told me about it." +</P> + +<P> +Mrs. Palmer was watching her closely. +</P> + +<P> +"You—you are a wonderful woman," she burst out finally. "It isn't good +business, it isn't good sense." +</P> + +<P> +Constance stopped short in her preparations for the search. "What are +business and sense compared to the—the life of—" +</P> + +<P> +She checked herself on the very point of revealing the girl's real name. +</P> + +<P> +"Nothing," replied Mrs. Palmer. "I had already made up my mind to go +with you before I spoke—if you will let me." +</P> + +<P> +In a moment the two understood each other better than after years of +casual acquaintance. +</P> + +<P> +Back and forth through the mazes of streets and car lines of the city +across the river the two women traveled, asking veiled questions of +every wearer of a uniform, until at last they found such a place as +Florence had described in her note. +</P> + +<P> +There, it seemed, had sprung up a little center of vice. While +reformers were trying to clamp down tight the "lid" in New York, all +the vicious elements were prying it up here. Crushed in one place, they +rose again in another. +</P> + +<P> +There was the electric sign—"Lustgarten." Even a cursory glance told +them that it included a saloon on the first floor, with a sort of dance +hall and second-rate cabaret. Above that was a hotel. The windows were +darkened, with awnings pulled down, even on what must have been in the +daytime the shady side. +</P> + +<P> +"Shall we go in? Are you game?" asked Constance of her companion. +</P> + +<P> +"I haven't gone so far without considering that," replied Mrs. Palmer, +somewhat reproachfully. +</P> + +<P> +Without a word Constance entered the door down the street followed by +her companion. +</P> + +<P> +A negro at the little cubby hole of an office pushed out a register at +them. Constance signed the first names that came into her head, and a +moment later they were on their way up to a big double room on the +third floor, led by another, younger negro. +</P> + +<P> +"Will you send the bell-boy up?" asked Constance as they entered the +room. +</P> + +<P> +"I'm the bell-boy ma'am," was his disconcerting reply. +</P> + +<P> +"I mean the other one," replied Constance, hazarding, "the one who is +here in the day time." +</P> + +<P> +"There ain't no other boy, ma'am. There ain't no—" +</P> + +<P> +"Could you deliver a note for me at a tea room in New York to-morrow?" +interrupted Constance, striking while the iron seemed hot. +</P> + +<P> +The boy turned around abruptly from his busy occupation of doing +something useless that would elicit a tip. He quietly shut the door, +and wheeled about with his hand still on the knob. +</P> + +<P> +"Do you want to know what room she's in?" he asked. +</P> + +<P> +Constance opened her handbag. Mrs. Palmer suppressed a little scream. +She had expected that ivory-handled thing to appear. Instead there was +a treasury note of a size that caused the white part of the boy's eyes +to expand beyond all the laws of optics. +</P> + +<P> +"Yes," she said, pressing it into his hand. +</P> + +<P> +"Forty-two-down the hall, around the turn, on the other side," +whispered the boy. "And for God's sake, ma'am, don't tell nobody I told +you." +</P> + +<P> +His shuffle down the hall had scarcely ceased before the two women were +stealthily creeping in the opposite direction, looking eagerly at the +numbers. +</P> + +<P> +Constance had stopped abruptly around the turn. Through a transom of +one of the rooms they could hear voices but could see no light. +</P> + +<P> +"Well, go back then," growled a gruff voice. "Your family will never +believe your story, never believe that you came again and stayed at +Lustgarten's against your will. Why," the voice taunted with a harsh +laugh, "if they knew the truth, they would turn you from the door, +instead of offering a reward." +</P> + +<P> +There was a moment of silence. Then a woman's voice, strangely familiar +to Constance, spoke. +</P> + +<P> +"The truth!" she exclaimed bitterly. "He knew it was a case of a girl +who liked a good time, liked pretty clothes, a ride in an automobile, +theaters, excitement, bright lights, night life—a girl with a romantic +disposition in whom all that was repressed at home. He knew it," she +repeated, raising the tone to an almost hysterical pitch, "led me on, +made me love him because he could give them all to me. And when I began +to show the strain of the pace-they all show it more than the men—he +cast me aside like a squeezed-out lemon." +</P> + +<P> +As she listened, Constance understood it all now. It was to make +Florence Gibbons a piece of property, a thing to be traded in, +bartered—that was the idea. Discover her—yes; but first to thrust her +into the life if she would not go into it herself—anything to +discredit her testimony beforehand, anything to save the precious +reputation of one man. +</P> + +<P> +"Well," shouted the other voice menacingly, "do you want to know the +truth? Haven't you read it often enough? Instead of hoping you will +return, they pray that you are DEAD!" +</P> + +<P> +He hissed the words out, then added, "They prefer to think that you are +dead. Why—damn it!—they turn to that belief for COMFORT!" +</P> + +<P> +Constance had seized Mrs. Palmer by the arm, and, acting in concert, +they threw both their weights against the thin wooden door. +</P> + +<P> +It yielded with a crash. +</P> + +<P> +Inside the room was dark. +</P> + +<P> +Indistinctly Constance could make out two figures, one standing, the +other seated in a deep rocker. +</P> + +<P> +A suppressed exclamation of surprise was followed by a hasty lunge of +the standing figure toward her. +</P> + +<P> +Constance reached quickly into her handbag and drew out the little +ivory-handled pistol. +</P> + +<P> +"Bang!" it spat almost into the man's face. +</P> + +<P> +Choking, sputtering, the man groped a minute blindly, then fell on the +floor and frantically tried to rise again and call out. +</P> + +<P> +The words seemed to stick in his throat. +</P> + +<P> +"You—you shot him?" gasped a woman's voice which Constance now knew +was Florence's. +</P> + +<P> +"With the new German Secret Service gun," answered Constance quietly, +keeping it leveled to cow any assistance that might be brought. "It +blinds and stupefies without killing—a bulletless revolver intended to +check and render harmless the criminal instead of maiming him. The +cartridges contain several chemicals that combine when they are +exploded and form a vapor which blinds a man and puts him out. No one +wants to kill such a person as this." +</P> + +<P> +She reached over and switched on the lights. +</P> + +<P> +The man on the floor was Drummond himself. +</P> + +<P> +"You will tell your real employer, Mr. Preston," she added +contemptuously, "that unless he agrees to our story of his elopement +with Florence, marries her, and allows her to start an undefended +action for divorce, we intend to make use of the new federal Mann +Act—with a jail sentence—for both of you." +</P> + +<P> +Drummond looked up sullenly, still blinking and choking. +</P> + +<P> +"And not a word of this until the suit is filed. Then WE will see the +reporters—not he. Understand?" +</P> + +<P> +"Yes," he muttered, still clutching his throat. +</P> + +<P> +An hour later Constance was at the telephone in her own apartment. +</P> + +<P> +"Mr. Gibbons? I must apologize for troubling you at this late, or +rather early, hour. But I promised you something which I could not +fulfill until now. This is the Mrs. Dunlap who called on you the other +day with a clue to your daughter Florence. I have found +her—yes—working as a waitress in the Betsy Ross Tea Boom. No—not a +word to anyone—not even to her mother. No—not a word. You can see her +to-morrow—at my apartment. She is going to live with me for a few days +until—well—until we get a few little matters straightened out." +</P> + +<P> +Constance had jammed the receiver back on the hook hastily. +</P> + +<P> +Florence Gibbons, wild-eyed, trembling, imploring, had flung her arms +about her neck. +</P> + +<P> +"No—no—no," she cried. "I can't. I won't." +</P> + +<P> +With a force that was almost masculine, Constance took the girl by both +shoulders. +</P> + +<P> +"The one thousand dollar reward which comes to me," said Constance +decisively, "will help us—straighten out those few little matters with +Preston. Mrs. Palmer can stretch the time which you have worked for +her." +</P> + +<P> +Something of Constance's will seemed to be infused into Florence +Gibbons by force of suggestion. +</P> + +<P> +"And remember," Constance added in a tense voice, "for anything after +your elopement—it's aphasia, aphasia, APHASIA!" +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap09"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER IX +</H3> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +THE SHOPLIFTERS +</H3> + +<P> +"Madam, would you mind going with me for a few moments to the office on +the third floor?" +</P> + +<P> +Constance Dunlap had been out on a shopping excursion. She had stopped +at the jewelry counter of Stacy's to have a ring repaired and had gone +on to the leather goods department to purchase something else. +</P> + +<P> +The woman who spoke to her was a quietly dressed young person, quite +inconspicuous, with a keen eye that seemed to take in everything within +a radius of a wide-angled lens at a glance. +</P> + +<P> +She leaned over and before Constance could express even surprise, added +in a whisper, "Look in your bag." +</P> + +<P> +Constance looked hastily, then realized what had happened. The ring was +gone! +</P> + +<P> +It gave her quite a shock, too, for the ring, a fine diamond, was a +present from her husband, one of the few pieces of jewelry, treasured +not only for its intrinsic value but as a remembrance of Carlton and +the supreme sacrifice he had made for her. +</P> + +<P> +She had noticed nothing in the crowd, nothing more than she had noticed +scores of times before. The woman watched her puzzled look. +</P> + +<P> +"I've been following you," she said. "By this time the other store +detectives must have caught the shoplifter and bag-opener who touched +you. You see, we don't make any arrests in the store if we can help it, +because we don't like to make a scene. It's bad for business. Besides, +if she had anything else, we are safer when the case comes to court, if +we have caught her actually leaving the store with it. Of course, when +we make an arrest on the sidewalk, we bring the shoplifter back, but in +a private, back elevator." +</P> + +<P> +Constance was following the young woman mechanically. At least there +was a chance of recovering the ring. +</P> + +<P> +"She was standing next to you at the jewelry counter," she continued, +"and if you will help identify her the store management will appreciate +it—and make it worth your while. Besides," she urged, "It's really +your duty to do it, madam." +</P> + +<P> +Constance remembered now the rather simply but richly gowned young +woman who had been standing next to her at the counter, seemingly +unable to decide which of a number of beautiful rings she really +wanted. She remembered because, with her own love of beauty, she had +wanted one herself, in fact had thought at the time that she, too, +might have difficulty in choosing. +</P> + +<P> +With the added feeling of curiosity, Constance followed the woman +detective up in the elevator. +</P> + +<P> +In the office, apart in a little room curiously furnished with a +camera, innumerable photographs, cabinets, and filing cases, was a +young woman, perhaps twenty-six or seven. On a table before her lay a +pile of laces and small trinkets. There, too, was the beautiful diamond +ring which she had hidden in her muff. Constance fairly gasped at the +sight. +</P> + +<P> +The girl was sitting limply in a chair crying bitterly. She was not a +hardened looking creature. In fact, her face bore evident traces of +refinement, and her long, slender fingers hinted at a nervous, artistic +temperament. It was rather a shock to see such a girl under such +distressing circumstances. +</P> + +<P> +"We've lost so much lately," a small ferret-eyed man was saying, "that +we must make an example of some one. It's serious for us detectives, +too. We'll lose our jobs unless we can stop you boosters." +</P> + +<P> +"Oh—I—I didn't mean to do it. I—I just couldn't help it," sobbed the +girl over and over again. +</P> + +<P> +"Yes," drawled the man, "that's what they all say. But you've been +caught with the goods, this time, young lady." +</P> + +<P> +A woman entered, and the man turned to her quickly. +</P> + +<P> +"Carr—Kitty Carr. Did you find anything under that name?" +</P> + +<P> +"No, sir," replied the woman store detective. "We've looked all through +the records and the photographs. We don't find her. And yet I don't +think it is an alias—at least, if it is, not an alias for any one we +have any record of. I've a good eye for faces, and there isn't one we +have on file as—as good looking," she added, perhaps with a little +touch of wistfulness at her own plainness and this beauty gone wrong. +</P> + +<P> +"This is the woman who lost the ring," put in the other woman +detective, motioning to Constance, who had accompanied her and was +standing, a silent spectator. +</P> + +<P> +The man held up the ring, which Constance had already recognized. +</P> + +<P> +"Is that yours?" he asked. +</P> + +<P> +For a moment, strangely, she hesitated. If it had been any other ring +in the world she felt sure that she would have said no. But, then, she +reflected, there was that pile of stuff. There was no use in concealing +her ownership of the ring. "Yes," she murmured. +</P> + +<P> +"One moment, please," answered the man brusquely. "I must send down for +the salesgirl who waited on you to identify you and your check—a mere +formality, you know, but necessary to keep things straight." +</P> + +<P> +Constance sat down. +</P> + +<P> +"I suppose you don't realize it," explained the man, turning to +Constance, "but the shoplifters of the city get away with a couple of +million dollars' worth of stuff every year. It's the price we have to +pay for displaying our goods. But it's too high. They are the +department store's greatest unsolved problem. Now most of the stores +are working together for their common interests, seeing what they can +do to root them out. We all keep a sort of private rogue's gallery of +them. But we don't seem to have anything on this girl, nor have any of +the other stores who exchange photographs and information with us +anything on her." +</P> + +<P> +"Evidently, then, it is her first offense," put in Constance, wondering +at herself. Strangely, she felt more of sympathy than of anger for the +girl. +</P> + +<P> +"You mean the first time she has been caught at it," corrected the head +of the store detectives. +</P> + +<P> +"It is my weakness," sobbed the girl. "Sometimes an irresistible +impulse to steal comes over me. I just can't help it." +</P> + +<P> +She was sobbing convulsively. As she talked and listened there seemed +to come a complete breakdown. She wept as though her heart would break. +</P> + +<P> +"Oh," exclaimed the man, "can it! Cut out the sob stuff!" +</P> + +<P> +"And yet," mused Constance half to herself, watching the girl closely, +"when one walks through the shops and sees thousands of dollars' worth +of goods lying unprotected on the counters, is it any wonder that some +poor woman or girl should be tempted and fall? There, before her eyes +and within her grasp, lies the very article above all others which she +so ardently craves. No one is looking. The salesgirl is busy with +another customer. The rest is easy. And then the store detective steps +in—and here she is—captured." +</P> + +<P> +The girl had been listening wildly through her tears. "Oh," she sobbed, +"you don't understand—none of you. I don't crave anything. I—I +just—can't help it—and then, afterwards—I—I HATE the stuff—and I +am so—afraid. I hurry home—and I—oh, what shall I do—what shall I +do?" +</P> + +<P> +Constance pitied her deeply. She looked from the wild-eyed, +tear-stained face to the miscellaneous pile of material on the table, +and the unwinking gaze of the store detectives. True, the girl had +taken a very valuable diamond ring, and from herself. But the laces, +the trinkets, all were abominably cheap, not worth risking anything for. +</P> + +<P> +Constance's attention was recalled by the man who beckoned her aside to +talk to the salesgirl who had waited on her. +</P> + +<P> +"You remember seeing this lady at the counter?" he asked of the girl. +She nodded. "And that woman in there?" he motioned. Again the salesgirl +nodded. +</P> + +<P> +"Do you remember anything else that happened?" he asked Constance as +they faced Kitty Carr and he handed Constance the ring. +</P> + +<P> +Constance looked the detective squarely in the face for a moment. +</P> + +<P> +"I have my ring. You have the other stuff," she murmured. "Besides, +there is no record against her. She doesn't even look like a +professional bad character. No—I'll not appear to press the +charge—I'll make it as hard as I can before I'll do it," she added +positively. +</P> + +<P> +The woman, who had overheard, looked her gratitude. The detectives were +preparing to argue. Constance hardly knew what she was saying, as she +hurried on before any one else could speak. +</P> + +<P> +"No," she added, "but I'll tell you what I will do. If you will let her +go I will look after her. Parole her, unofficially, with me." +</P> + +<P> +Constance drew a card from her case and handed it to the detective. He +read it carefully, and a puzzled look came over his face. "Charge +account—good customer—pays promptly," he muttered under his breath. +</P> + +<P> +For a moment he hesitated. Then he sat down at a desk. +</P> + +<P> +"Mrs. Dunlap," he said, "I'll do it." +</P> + +<P> +He pulled a piece of printed paper from the desk, filled in a few +blanks, then turned to Kitty Carr, handing her a pen. +</P> + +<P> +"Sign here," he said brusquely. +</P> + +<P> +Constance bent over and read. It was a form of release: +</P> + +<P> +"I, Kitty Carr, residing at — East —th Street, single, age +twenty-seven years, in consideration of the sum of One Dollar, hereby +admit taking the following property... without having paid therefor and +with intent not to pay therefor, and by reason of the withdrawal of the +complaint of larceny, OF WHICH I AM GUILTY, I hereby remise, release, +and forever discharge the said Stacy Co. or its representatives from +any claims, action, or causes of action which I may have against the +Stacy Co. or its representatives or agents by reason of the withdrawal +of said charge of larceny and failure to prosecute." +</P> + +<P CLASS="noindent"> +"Signed, Kitty Carr." +</P> + +<P> +"Now, Kitty," soothed Constance, as the trembling signature was blotted +and added to a photograph which had quietly been taken, "they are going +to let you go this time—with me. Come, straighten your hat, wipe your +eyes. You must take me home with you—where we can have a nice long +talk. Remember, I am your friend." +</P> + +<P> +On the way uptown and across the city the girl managed to tell most of +her history. She came from a family of means in another city. Her +father was dead, but her mother and a brother were living. She herself +had a small annuity, sufficient to live on modestly, and had come to +New York seeking a career as an artist. Her story, her ambitions +appealed to Constance, who had been somewhat of an artist herself and +recognized even in talking to the girl that she was not without some +ability. +</P> + +<P> +Then, too, she found that Kitty actually lived, as she had said, in a +cozy little kitchenette apartment with two friends, a man and his wife, +both of whom happened to be out when they arrived. As Constance looked +about she could see clearly that there was indeed no adequate reason +why the girl should steal. +</P> + +<P> +"How do you feel?" asked Constance when the girl had sunk half +exhausted on a couch in the living room. +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, so nervous," she replied, pressing her hands to the back of her +head, "and I have a terrible headache, although it is a little better +now." +</P> + +<P> +They had talked for perhaps half an hour, as Constance soothed her, +when there was the sound of a key in the door. A young woman in black +entered. She was well-dressed, in fact elegantly dressed in a quiet +way, somewhat older than Kitty, but by no means as attractive. +</P> + +<P> +"Why—hello, Kitty," she cried, "what's the matter!" +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, Annie, I'm so unstrung," replied the girl, then recollecting +Constance, added, "let me introduce my friend, Mrs. Dunlap. This is +Mrs. Annie Grayson, who has taken me in as a lodger and is ever so kind +to me." +</P> + +<P> +Constance nodded, and the woman held out her hand frankly. +</P> + +<P> +"Very glad to meet you," she said. "My husband, Jim, is not at home, +but we are a very happy little family up here. Why, Kitty, what is the +matter?" +</P> + +<P> +The girl had turned her face down in the sofa pillows and was sobbing +again. Between sobs she blurted out the whole of the sordid story. And +as she proceeded, Annie glanced quickly from her to Constance, for +confirmation. +</P> + +<P> +Suddenly she rose and extended her hand to Constance. +</P> + +<P> +"Mrs. Dunlap," she said, "how can I ever thank you for what you have +done for Kitty? She is almost like a sister to me. You—you were—too +good." +</P> + +<P> +There was a little catch in the woman's voice. But Constance could not +quite make out whether it was acted or wholly genuine. +</P> + +<P> +"Did she ever do anything like that before?" she asked. +</P> + +<P> +"Only once," replied Annie Grayson, "and then I gave her such a talking +to that I thought she would be able to restrain herself when she felt +that way again." +</P> + +<P> +It was growing late and Constance recollected that she had an +engagement for the evening. As she rose to go Kitty almost overwhelmed +her with embraces. +</P> + +<P> +"I'll keep in touch with Kitty," whispered Constance at the door, "and +if you will let me know when anything comes up that I may help her in, +I shall thank you." +</P> + +<P> +"Depend on me," answered Mrs. Grayson, "and I want to add my thanks to +Kitty's for what you have done. I'll try to help you." +</P> + +<P> +As she groped her way down the as yet unlighted stairs, Constance +became aware of two men talking in the hall. As she passed them she +thought she recognized one of the voices. She lowered her head, and +fortunately her thin veil in the half-light did the rest. She passed +unnoticed and reached the door of the apartment. +</P> + +<P> +As she opened it she heard the men turn and mount the stairs. +Instinctively she realized that something was wrong. One of the men was +her old enemy, Drummond, the detective. +</P> + +<P> +They had not recognized her, and as she stood for a moment with her +hand on the knob, she tried to reason it out. Then she crept back, and +climbed the stairs noiselessly. Voices inside the apartment told her +that she had not been mistaken. It was the apartment of the Graysons +and Kitty that they sought. +</P> + +<P> +The hall door was of thin, light wood, and as she stood there she could +easily hear what passed inside. +</P> + +<P> +"What—is Kitty ill?" she heard the strange man's voice inquire. +</P> + +<P> +"Yes," replied Mrs. Grayson, then her voice trailed off into an +indistinguishable whisper. +</P> + +<P> +"How are you, Kitty?" asked the man. +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, I have a splitting headache, Jim. I've had it all day. I could +just get up and—screech!" +</P> + +<P> +"I'm sorry. I hope it gets better soon." +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, I guess it will. They often go away as suddenly as they come. You +know I've had them before." +</P> + +<P> +Drummond's voice then spoke up. +</P> + +<P> +"Did you see the Trimble ad. to-night?" he asked, evidently of Annie. +"They have a lot of new diamonds from Arkansas, they say,—one of them +is a big one, the Arkansas Queen, I believe they call it." +</P> + +<P> +"No, I didn't see the papers," replied Annie. +</P> + +<P> +There was the rustle of a newspaper. +</P> + +<P> +"Here's a picture of it. It must be great. I've heard a good deal about +it." +</P> + +<P> +"Have you seen it?" asked Annie. +</P> + +<P> +"No, but I intend to see it." +</P> + +<P> +They had passed into the next room, and Constance, fearing to be +discovered, decided to get away before that happened. +</P> + +<P> +Early the next morning she decided to call on Kitty, but by the time +Constance arrived at the apartment it was closed, and a neighbor +informed her that the two women had gone out together about half an +hour before. +</P> + +<P> +Constance was nervous and, as she left the apartment, she did not +notice that a man who had been loitering about had quickened his pace +and overtaken her. +</P> + +<P> +"So," drawled a voice, "you're traveling with shoplifters now." +</P> + +<P> +She looked up quickly. This time she had run squarely into Drummond. +There was no concealment possible now. Her only refuge was silence. She +felt the hot tingle of indignation in her cheeks. But she said nothing. +</P> + +<P> +"Huh!" exclaimed Drummond, walking along beside her, and adding +contemptuously, "I don't know the young one, but you know who the other +is?" +</P> + +<P> +Constance bit her lip. +</P> + +<P> +"No?" he queried. "Then I'll show you." +</P> + +<P> +He had taken from his pocket a bunch of oblong cards. Each bore, she +could see from the corner of her eye, a full face and a profile picture +of a woman, and on the back of the card was a little writing. +</P> + +<P> +He selected one and handed it to Constance. Instantly she recognized +the face. It was Annie Grayson, with half a dozen aliases written after +the name. +</P> + +<P> +"There!" he fairly snorted. "That's the sort of people your little +friend consorts with. Why, they call Annie Grayson the queen of the +shoplifters. She has forgotten more about shoplifting than all the rest +will ever know." +</P> + +<P> +Constance longed to ask him what had taken him to the Grayson flat the +night before, but thought better of it. There was no use in angering +Drummond further. Instead, she let him think that he had succeeded in +frightening her off. +</P> + +<P> +She went back to her own apartment to wait and worry. Evidently +Drummond was pretty sure of something, or he would not have disclosed +his hand to her, even partially. She felt that she must see Kitty +before it was too late. Then the thought crossed her mind that perhaps +already it was too late. Drummond evidently was working in some way for +an alliance of the department stores outside. +</P> + +<P> +Constance had had her own ideas about Kitty. And as she waited and +watched, she tried to reason how she might carry them out if she had a +chance. +</P> + +<P> +She had just been insured, and had been very much interested in the +various tests that the woman doctor of the insurance company had +applied to her. One in particular which involved the use of a little +simple instrument that fitted over the forearm had interested her +particularly. She had talked to the doctor about it, and as she talked +an idea had occurred to her that it might have other uses than those +which the doctor made of it. She had bought one. While she was waiting +it occurred to her that perhaps it might serve her purpose. She got the +instrument out. It consisted of a little arrangement that fitted over +the forearm, and was attached by a tube to a dial that registered in +millimeters a column of mercury. Would it really show anything, she +wondered? +</P> + +<P> +There was a quick call on the telephone and she answered it, her hand +trembling, for she felt sure that it was something about the little +woman she had befriended. +</P> + +<P> +Somehow or other her voice hardened as she answered the call and found +that it was from Drummond. It would never do to betray even nervousness +before him. +</P> + +<P> +"Your friend, Miss Carr," shot out Drummond with brutal directness, +"has been caught again. She fell into something as neatly as if she had +really meant to do it. Yesterday, you know, Trimble's advertised the +new diamond, the Arkansas Queen, on exhibition. Well, it was made of +paste, anyway. But it was a perfect imitation. But that didn't make any +difference. We caught Kitty just now trying to lift it. I'm sorry it +wasn't the other one. But small fry are better than none. We'll get +her, too, yet. Besides, I find this Kitty has a record already at +Stacy's." +</P> + +<P> +He added the last words with a taunting sneer. Constance realized +suddenly the truth. The whole affair had been a plant of Drummond's! +</P> + +<P> +"You are at Trimble's?" she inquired quickly. "Well, can you wait there +just a few minutes? I'd like to see Miss Carr." +</P> + +<P> +Drummond promised. His acquiescence in itself boded no good, but +nevertheless she decided to go. As she left her apartment hurriedly she +picked up the little instrument and dropped it into her hand-bag. +</P> + +<P> +"You see, it's no use," almost chortled Drummond as Constance stepped +off the elevator and opened the door to a little room at Trimble's much +like that which she had already seen at Stacy's. "A shoplifter becomes +habitual after twenty-five. They get to consorting with others of their +kind." +</P> + +<P> +Kitty was sitting rigidly motionless in a chair, staring straight +ahead, as Constance entered. She gave a start at the sight of a +familiar face, rose, and would almost have fainted if Constance had not +caught her. It seemed as if something had snapped in the girl's +make-up. For the first time tears came. Constance patted her hand +softly. The girl was an enigma. Was she a clever actress—one minute +hardened Miss Sophisticated, the next appealing Miss Innocence? +</P> + +<P> +"How did you—catch her?" asked Constance a moment later as she found +an opportunity to talk to Drummond alone. +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, she was trying to substitute a paste replica for the alleged +Arkansas Queen. The clerk noticed the replica in time, saw a little +spot of carbon on it—and she was shadowed and arrested just as she was +leaving the store. Yes, they found the other paste jewel on her. She +was caught with the goods." +</P> + +<P> +"Replica?" repeated Constance, thinking of the picture that had +appeared in the papers the night before. "How could she get a replica +of it?" +</P> + +<P> +"How do I know?" shrugged Drummond coldly. +</P> + +<P> +Constance looked him squarely in the eyes. +</P> + +<P> +"What about Annie Grayson?" she asked pointblank. +</P> + +<P> +"I have taken care of that," he replied harshly. "She is already under +arrest, and from what I have heard we may get something on her now. We +have a record against the Carr girl. We can use it against her friend. +We're just about taking her to the flat to identify the Grayson woman. +Would you like to come along?" he added in a spirit of bravado. "I +think you are a material witness in the Stacy case, anyhow." +</P> + +<P> +Constance felt bitterly her defeat. Still she went with them. There was +always a chance that something might turn up. +</P> + +<P> +As they entered the door of the kitchenette loud voices told them that +some one was disputing inside. +</P> + +<P> +Drummond strode in. +</P> + +<P> +The sight of a huge pile of stuff that two strange men had drawn out of +drawers and closets and stacked on the table riveted Constance's eyes. +Only dimly she could hear that Annie Grayson was violently threatening +Drummond, who stood coolly surveying the scene. +</P> + +<P> +The stuff on the table was, in fact, quite enough to dazzle the eyes. +There were articles of every sort and description there—silks, laces, +jewelry and trinkets, little antiques, even rare books—everything +small and portable, some of the richest and most exquisite, others of +the cheapest and most tawdry. It was a truly remarkable collection, +which the raiding detectives had brought to light. +</P> + +<P> +As Constance took in the scene—the raiding detectives holding the +stormy Annie Grayson at bay, Drummond, cool, supercilious, Kitty almost +on the edge of collapse—she wondered how Jim Grayson had managed to +slip through the meshes of the net. +</P> + +<P> +She had read of such things. Annie Grayson was to all appearances a +"fence" for stolen goods. This was, perhaps, a school for shoplifters. +In addition to her other accomplishments, the queen of the shoplifters +was a "Fagin," educating others to the tricks of her trade, taking +advantage of their lack of facility in disposing of the stolen goods. +</P> + +<P> +Just then the woman caught sight of Constance standing in the doorway. +</P> + +<P> +In an instant she had broken loose and ran toward her. +</P> + +<P> +"What are you," she hissed, "one of these department store Moll Dicks, +too?" +</P> + +<P> +Quick as a flash Kitty Carr had leaped to her feet and placed herself +between them. +</P> + +<P> +"No, Annie, no. She was a real friend of mine. No—if your own friends +had been as loyal as she was to me this would never have happened—I +should never have been caught again, for I should never have given them +a chance to get it on me." +</P> + +<P> +"Little fool!" ground out Annie Grayson, raising her arm. +</P> + +<P> +"Here—here—LADIES!" interposed Drummond, protruding an arm between +the two, and winking sarcastically to the two other men. "None of that. +We shall need both of you in our business. I've no objection to your +talking; but cut out the rough stuff." +</P> + +<P> +Constance had stepped back. She was cool, cool as Drummond, although +she knew her heart was thumping like a sledge-hammer. There was Kitty +Carr, in a revulsion of feeling, her hands pressed tightly to her head +again, as if it were bursting. She was swaying as if she would faint. +</P> + +<P> +Constance caught her gently about the waist and forced her down on the +couch where she had been lying the night before. With her back to the +others, she reached quickly into her hand-bag and pulled out the little +instrument she had hastily stuffed into it. Deftly she fastened it to +Kitty's wrist and forearm. +</P> + +<P> +She dropped down on her knees beside the poor girl, and gently stroked +her free hand, reassuring her in a low tone. +</P> + +<P> +"There, there," she soothed. "You are not well, Kitty. Perhaps, after +all, there may be something—some explanation." +</P> + +<P> +In spite of all, however, Kitty was on the verge of the wildest +hysterics. Annie Grayson sniffed contemptuously at such weakness. +</P> + +<P> +Drummond came over, an exasperating sneer on his face. As he looked +down he saw what Constance was doing, and she rose, so that all could +see now. +</P> + +<P> +"This girl," she said, speaking rapidly, "is afflicted with a nervous +physical disorder, a mania, which is uncontrollable, and takes this +outlet. It is emotional insanity—not loss of control of the will, but +perversion of the will." +</P> + +<P> +"Humph!" was Drummond's sole comment with a significant glance at the +pile of goods on the table. +</P> + +<P> +"It is not the articles themselves so much," went on Constance, +following his glance, "as it is the pleasure, the excitement, the +satisfaction—call it what you will—of taking them. A thief works for +the benefit he may derive from objects stolen after he gets them. Here +is a girl who apparently has no further use for an article after she +gets it, who forgets, perhaps hates it." +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, yes," remarked Drummond; "but why are they all so careful not to +get caught? Every one is responsible who knows the nature and +consequences of his act." +</P> + +<P> +Constance had wheeled about. +</P> + +<P> +"That is not so," she exclaimed. "Any modern alienist will tell you +that. Sometimes the chief mark of insanity may be knowing the nature +and consequences, craftily avoiding detection with an almost superhuman +cunning. No; the test is whether knowing the nature and consequences, a +person suffers under such a defect of will that in spite of everything, +in the face of everything, that person cannot control that will." +</P> + +<P> +As she spoke, she had quickly detached the little instrument and had +placed it on Annie Grayson's arm. If it had been a Bertillon camera, or +even a finger-print outfit, Annie Grayson would probably have fought +like a tigress. But this thing was a new one. She had a peculiar spirit +of bravado. +</P> + +<P> +"Such terms as kleptomania," went on Constance, "are often regarded as +excuses framed up by the experts to cover up plain ordinary stealing. +But did you wiseacres of crime ever stop to think that perhaps they do +actually exist? +</P> + +<P> +"There are many things that distinguish such a woman as I have +described to you from a common thief. There is the insane desire to +steal—merely for stealing's sake—a morbid craving. Of course in a +sense it is stealing. But it is persistent, incorrigible, irrational, +motiveless, useless. +</P> + +<P> +"Stop and think about it a moment," she concluded, lowering her voice +and taking advantage of the very novelty of the situation she had +created. "Such diseases are the product of civilization, of +sensationalism. Naturally enough, then, woman, with her delicately +balanced nervous organization, is the first and chief offender—if you +insist on calling such a person an offender under your antiquated +methods of dealing with such cases." +</P> + +<P> +She had paused. +</P> + +<P> +"What did you say you called this thing?" asked Drummond as he tapped +the arrangement on Annie Grayson's arm. +</P> + +<P> +He was evidently not much impressed by it, yet somehow instinctively +regarded it with somewhat of the feelings of an elephant toward a mouse. +</P> + +<P> +"That?" answered Constance, taking it off Annie Grayson's wrist before +she could do anything with it. "Why, I don't know that I said anything +about it. It is really a sphygmomanometer—the little expert witness +that never lies—one of the instruments the insurance companies use now +to register blood pressure and discover certain diseases. It occurred +to me that it might be put to other and equally practical uses. For no +one can conceal the emotions from this instrument, not even a person of +cast-iron nerves." +</P> + +<P> +She had placed it on Drummond's arm. He appeared fascinated. +</P> + +<P> +"See how it works?" she went on. "You see one hundred and twenty-five +millimeters is the normal pressure. Kitty Carr is absolutely abnormal. +I do not know, but I think that she suffers from periodical attacks of +vertigo. Almost all kleptomaniacs do. During an attack they are utterly +irresponsible." +</P> + +<P> +Drummond was looking at the thing carefully. Constance turned to Annie +Grayson. +</P> + +<P> +"Where's your husband?" she asked offhand. +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, he disappeared as soon as these department store dicks showed up," +she replied bitterly. She had been watching Constance narrowly, quite +nonplussed, and unable to make anything out of what was going on. +</P> + +<P> +Constance looked at Drummond inquiringly. +</P> + +<P> +He shook his head slowly. "I'm afraid we'll never catch him," he said. +"He got the jump on us—although we have our lines out for him, too." +</P> + +<P> +She had glanced down quickly at the little innocent-looking but +telltale sphygmomanometer. +</P> + +<P> +"You lie!" she exclaimed suddenly, with all the vigor of a man. +</P> + +<P> +She was pointing at the quivering little needle which registered a +sudden, access of emotion totally concealed by the sang-froid of +Drummond's well-schooled exterior. +</P> + +<P> +She wrenched the thing off his wrist and dropped it into her bag. A +moment later she stood by the open window facing the street, a bright +little police whistle gleaming in her hand, ready for its shrill alarm +if any move were made to cut short what she had to say. +</P> + +<P> +She was speaking rapidly now. +</P> + +<P> +"You see, I've had it on all of you, one after another, and each has +told me your story, just enough of it for me to piece it together. +Kitty is suffering from a form of vertigo, an insanity, kleptomania, +the real thing. As for you, Mr. Drummond, you were in league with the +alleged husband—your own stool pigeon—to catch Annie Grayson." +</P> + +<P> +Drummond moved. So did the whistle. He stopped. +</P> + +<P> +"But she was too clever for you all. She was not caught, even by a man +who lived with her as her own husband. For she was not operating." +</P> + +<P> +Annie Grayson moved as if to face out her accusers at this sudden turn +of fortune. +</P> + +<P> +"One moment, Annie," cut in Constance. +</P> + +<P> +"And yet, you are the real shoplifter, after all. You fell into the +trap which Drummond laid for you. I take pleasure, Mr. Drummond, in +presenting you with better evidence than even your own stool pigeon +could possibly have given you under the circumstances." +</P> + +<P> +She paused. +</P> + +<P> +"For myself," she concluded, "I claim Kitty Carr. I claim the right to +take her, to have her treated for her—her disease. I claim it because +the real shoplifter, the queen of the shoplifters, Annie Grayson, has +worked out a brand-new scheme, taking up a true kleptomaniac and using +her insanity to carry out the stealings which she suggested—and +safely, to this point, has profited by!" +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap10"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER X +</H3> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +THE BLACKMAILERS +</H3> + +<P> +"They're late this afternoon." +</P> + +<P> +"Yes. I think they might be on time. I wish they had made the +appointment in a quieter place." +</P> + +<P> +"What do you care, Anita? Probably somebody else is doing the same +thing somewhere else. What's sauce for the gander is sauce for the +goose." +</P> + +<P> +"I know he has treated me like a dog, Alice, but—" +</P> + +<P> +There was just a trace of a catch in the voice of the second woman as +she broke off the remark and left it unfinished. +</P> + +<P> +Constance Dunlap had caught the words unintentionally above the hum of +conversation and the snatches of tuneful music wafted from the large +dining-room where day was being turned into night. +</P> + +<P> +She had dropped into the fashionable new Vanderveer Hotel, not to meet +any one, but because she liked to watch the people in "Peacock Alley," +as the corridor of the hotel was often popularly called. +</P> + +<P> +Somehow, as she sat inconspicuously in a deep chair in an angle, she +felt that very few of the gaily chatting couples or of the waiting men +and women about her were quite what they seemed on the surface. +</P> + +<P> +The conversation from around the angle confirmed her opinion. Here, +apparently at least, were two young married women with a grievance, and +it was not for those against whom they had the grievance, real or +imagined, that they were waiting so anxiously. +</P> + +<P> +Constance leaned forward to see them better. The woman nearest her was +a trifle the elder of the two, a very attractive-looking woman, +tastefully gowned and carefully groomed. The younger, who had been the +first speaker, was, perhaps, the more dashing. Certainly she appeared +to be the more sophisticated. And as Constance caught her eye she +involuntarily thought of the old proverb, "Never trust a man who +doesn't look you in the eye or a woman who does." +</P> + +<P> +Two men sauntered down the long corridor, on the way from a visit to +the bar. As they caught sight of the two ladies, there was a smile of +recognition, an exchange of remarks between each pair, and the men +hurried in the direction of the corner. +</P> + +<P> +They greeted the two ladies in low, bantering, familiar terms—"Mr. +Smith," "Mrs. Jones," "Mr. White" and "Mrs. Brown." +</P> + +<P> +"You got my card!" asked one of the men of the woman nearest Constance. +"Sorry we're late, but a business friend ran into us as we were coming +in and I had to shunt him off in the other direction." +</P> + +<P> +He nodded toward the opposite end of the corridor with a laugh. +</P> + +<P> +"You've been bad boys," pouted the other woman, "but we forgive +you—this time." +</P> + +<P> +"Perhaps we may hope to be reinstated after a little—er—tea—and a +dance?" suggested the other man. +</P> + +<P> +The four were all moving in the direction of the dining-room and the +gay music. +</P> + +<P> +They had disappeared in the crush about the door before Constance +noticed that the woman who had been sitting nearest her had dropped an +envelope. She picked it up. It was on the stationery of another +fashionable hotel, evidently written by one of those who lounge in, and +on the strength of a small bill in the cafe use the writing room. In a +man's hand was the name, "Mrs. Anita Douglas, The Melcombe Apartments, +City" +</P> + +<P> +Before she realized it, Constance had pulled out the card inside and +glanced at it. It read: +</P> + +<P CLASS="noindent"> + MY DEAREST A——:<BR> +<BR> + Can you meet us in the Vanderveer to-morrow afternoon at four?<BR> + Bring along your little friend.<BR> +<BR> + With many * * * *<BR> +<BR> + Yours,<BR> +<BR> + ?????<BR> +</P> + +<P> +Mechanically Constance crumpled the card and the envelope in her hand +and held them as she regarded the passing throng, intending to throw +them away when she passed a scrap basket on the way out. +</P> + +<P> +Still, it was a fascinating scene, this of the comedy and tragedy of +human weaknesses, and she stayed much longer than she had intended. One +by one the people had either gone to dinner in the main dining-room or +elsewhere and Constance had nearly decided on going, too. +</P> + +<P> +She was looking down the corridor toward the desk when she saw +something that caused her to change her mind. There was the young lady +who had been talking so flippantly to the woman with a grievance, and +she was now talking, of all people, to Drummond! +</P> + +<P> +Constance shrank back into her wicker chair in the protecting angle. +What did it mean? If Drummond had anything to do with it, even +remotely, it boded no good, at least. +</P> + +<P> +Suddenly a possible explanation crossed her mind. Was it a side-light +upon that peculiar industry of divorce as practiced in no place except +New York? +</P> + +<P> +It was not only that Constance longed for, lived by excitement. She +felt a sense of curiosity as to what the detective was up to now. And, +somehow, she felt a duty in the case. She determined to return the +envelope and card, and meet the woman. And the more she thought of it +the more imperative became the idea. +</P> + +<P> +So it came about that the following forenoon Constance sought out the +Melcombe Apartments, a huge stone and brick affair on a street which +the uptown trend of population was transforming. +</P> + +<P> +Anita Douglas, she had already found out by an inquiry or two, was the +wife of a well-known business man. Yet, as she entered the little +apartment, she noticed that there was no evidence about it of a man's +presence. +</P> + +<P> +Mrs. Douglas greeted her unexpected visitor with an inquiring look. +</P> + +<P> +"I was passing through the corridor of the Vanderveer yesterday +afternoon," began Constance, leaping into the middle of her errand, +"and I happened to see this envelope lying on the carpet. I thought +first of destroying it; then that perhaps you would rather destroy it +yourself." +</P> + +<P> +Mrs. Douglas almost pounced on the letter as Constance handed it to +her. "Thank you," she exclaimed. "It was very thoughtful of you." +</P> + +<P> +For a moment or two they chatted of inconsequential things. +</P> + +<P> +"Who was your friend?" asked Constance at length. +</P> + +<P> +The woman caught her breath and flushed a bit, evidently wondering just +how much Constance really knew. +</P> + +<P> +"The young lady," added Constance, who had put the question in this +form purposely. +</P> + +<P> +"Why do you ask?" Mrs. Douglas inquired in a tone that betrayed +considerable relief. +</P> + +<P> +"Because I can tell you something of her, I think." +</P> + +<P> +"A friend of mine—a Mrs. Murray. Why?" +</P> + +<P> +"Aren't you just a little bit afraid of—er—friends that you may +chance to make in the city?" queried Constance. +</P> + +<P> +"Afraid?" repeated the other. +</P> + +<P> +"Yes," said Constance, coming gradually to the point. "You know there +are so many detectives about." +</P> + +<P> +Mrs. Douglas laughed half nervously. "Oh, I've been shadowed," she +replied confidently. "I know how to shake them off. If you can't do +anything else, you can always take a taxi. Besides, I think I can +uncover almost any shadow. All you have to do, if you think you're +being shadowed, is to turn a corner and stop. That uncovers the shadow +as soon as he comes up to the corner, and after that he is useless. You +know him." +</P> + +<P> +"That's all right," nodded Constance; "but you don't know these crooked +detectives nowadays as I do. They can fake up evidence to order. That +is their business, you know, to manufacture it. You may uncover a +six-dollar operative, Mrs. Douglas, but are you the equal of a +twenty-dollar-a-day investigator?" +</P> + +<P> +The woman looked genuinely scared. Evidently Constance knew some things +she didn't know, at least about detectives. +</P> + +<P> +"You—you don't think there is anything like that, do you?" she asked +anxiously. +</P> + +<P> +"Well," replied Constance slowly to impress her, "I saw your friend, +Mrs. Murray, after you had left the Vanderveer, talking to a detective +whom I have every reason to fear as one of the most unscrupulous in the +game." +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, that is impossible!" persisted Mrs. Douglas. +</P> + +<P> +"Not a bit of it," pursued Constance. "Think it over for a moment. Who +would be the last person a man or woman would suspect of being a +detective? Why, just such an attractive young woman, of course. You +see, it is just this way. They reason that if they can only get +acquainted with people the rest is easy. For, people, under the right +circumstances, will tell everything they know." +</P> + +<P> +The woman was staring at Constance. +</P> + +<P> +"For example," urged Constance, "I'm talking to you now as if I had +known you for years. Why, Mrs. Douglas, men tell their most important +business secrets to chance luncheon and dinner companions whom they +think have no direct or indirect interest in them. Over tea-tables +women tell their most intimate personal affairs. In fact, all you have +to do is to keep your ears open." +</P> + +<P> +Mrs. Douglas had risen and was nervously watching Constance, who saw +that she had made an impression and that all that was necessary was to +follow it up. +</P> + +<P> +"Now, for instance," added Constance quickly, "you say she is a friend +of yours. How did you meet her?" +</P> + +<P> +Mrs. Douglas did not raise her eyes to Constance's now. Yet she seemed +to feel that Constance was different from other chance acquaintances, +to feel a sort of confidence, and to want to meet frankness with +frankness. +</P> + +<P> +"One day I was with a friend of mine at the new Palais de Maxixe," she +answered in a low voice as if making a confession. "A woman in the +dressing-room borrowed a cigarette. You know they often do that. We got +talking, and it seemed that we had much in common in our lives. Before +I went back to him—" +</P> + +<P> +She bit her lip. She had evidently not intended to admit that she knew +any other men. Constance, however, appeared not to notice the slip. +</P> + +<P> +"I had arranged to meet her at luncheon the next day," she continued +hastily. "We have been friends ever since." +</P> + +<P> +"You went to luncheon with her, and—" Constance prompted. +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, she told me her story. It was very much like my own—a husband who +was a perfect bear, and then gossip about him that so many people, +besides his own wife, seemed to know, and—" +</P> + +<P> +Constance shook her head. "Really," she observed thoughtfully, "it's a +wonder to me how any one stays married these days. Somebody is always +mixing in, getting one or the other so wrought up that they get to +thinking there is no possibility of happiness. That's where the crook +detective comes in." +</P> + +<P> +Anita Douglas, confidence established now, poured out her story +unreservedly, as there was little reason why she should not, a story of +the refined brutality and neglect and inhumanity of her husband. +</P> + +<P> +She told of her own first suspicions of him, of a girl who had been his +stenographer, a Miss Helen Brett. +</P> + +<P> +But he was careful. There had never been any direct, positive evidence +against him. Still, there was enough to warrant a separation and the +payment to her of an allowance. +</P> + +<P> +They had lived, she said, in a pretty little house in the suburb of +Glenclair, near New York. Now that they were separated, she had taken a +little kitchenette apartment at the new Melcombe. Her husband was +living in the house, she believed, when he was not in the city at his +club, "or elsewhere," she added bitterly. +</P> + +<P> +"But," she confided as she finished, "it is very lonely here in a big +city all alone." +</P> + +<P> +"I know it is," agreed Constance sympathetically as they parted. "I, +too, am often very lonely. Call on me, especially if you find anything +crooked going on. Call on me, anyhow. I shall be glad to see you any +time." +</P> + +<P> +The words, "anything crooked going on," rang in Mrs. Douglas's ears +long after the elevator door had clanged shut and her new friend had +gone. She was visibly perturbed. And the more she thought about it the +more perturbed she became. +</P> + +<P> +She had carried on a mild, then an ardent, flirtation with the man who +had introduced himself as "Mr. White"—really Lynn Munro. But she +relied on her woman's instinct in her judgment of him. No, she felt +sure that he could not be other than she thought. But as for Alice +Murray and her friend whom she had met at the Palais de Maxixe—well, +she was forced to admit that she did not know, that Constance's warning +might, after all, be true. +</P> + +<P> +Munro had had to run out of town for a few days on a business trip. +That she knew, for it had been the reason why he had wanted to see her +before he went. +</P> + +<P> +He had, in fact, spent the evening in her company, after the other +couple had excused themselves on one pretext or another. +</P> + +<P> +She called up Alice Murray at the number she had given. She was not +there. In fact, no one seemed to know when she would be there. It was +strange, because always before it had seemed possible to get her at any +moment, almost instantly. That, too, worried her. +</P> + +<P> +She tried to get the thing out of her mind, but she could not. She had +a sort of foreboding that her new friend had not spoken without reason, +a feeling of insecurity as though something were impending over her. +</P> + +<P> +The crisis came sooner than even Constance had anticipated when she +called on Anita Douglas. It was early in the afternoon, while Anita was +still brooding, that a strange man called on her. Instinctively she +seemed to divine that he was a detective. He, at least, had the look. +</P> + +<P> +"My name," he introduced himself, "is Drummond." +</P> + +<P> +Drummond paused and glanced about as if to make sure that he could by +no possibility be overheard. +</P> + +<P> +"I have called," he continued, "on a rather delicate matter." +</P> + +<P> +He paused for effect, then went on: +</P> + +<P> +"Some time ago I was employed by Mr. Douglas to—er—to watch his wife." +</P> + +<P> +He was watching her narrowly to see what effect his sudden remark would +have on her. She was speechless. +</P> + +<P> +"Since then," he added quietly, "I have watched, I have seen—what I +have seen." +</P> + +<P> +Drummond had faced her. Somehow the effect of his words was more potent +on her than if he had not accused her by indirection. Still she said +nothing. +</P> + +<P> +"I can suppress it," he insinuated. +</P> + +<P> +Her heart was going like a trip-hammer. +</P> + +<P> +"But it will cost something to do that." +</P> + +<P> +Here was a straw—she caught at it eagerly. +</P> + +<P> +"Cost something?" she repeated, facing him. "How much?" +</P> + +<P> +Drummond never took his eyes from her anxious face. +</P> + +<P> +"I was to get a fee of one thousand dollars if I obtained some letters +that had passed from her to a man named Lynn Munro. He has gone out of +town—has left his rooms unguarded. I have the letters." +</P> + +<P> +She felt a sinking sensation. One thousand dollars! +</P> + +<P> +Suddenly the truth of the situation flashed over her. He had come with +an offer that set her bidding against her husband for the letters. And +in a case of dollars her husband would win. One thousand dollars! It +was blackmail. +</P> + +<P> +"I—I can't afford it," she pleaded weakly. "Can't you make it—less?" +</P> + +<P> +Drummond shook his head. Already he had learned what he had come to +learn. She did not have the money. +</P> + +<P> +"No," he replied positively, adding, by way of inserting the knife and +turning it around, "I shall have to turn the letters over to him +to-day." +</P> + +<P> +She drew herself up. At least she could fight back. +</P> + +<P> +"But you can't prove anything," she cut in quickly. +</P> + +<P> +"Can't I?" he returned. "The letters don't speak for themselves, do +they? You don't realize that this interview helps to prove it, do you? +An innocent woman wouldn't have considered my offer, much less plead +with me. Bah! can't prove anything. Why, it's all in plain black and +white!" +</P> + +<P> +Drummond flicked the ashes from his cigar into the fireplace as he rose +to go. At the door he turned for one parting shot. +</P> + +<P> +"I have all the evidence I need," he concluded. "I've got the goods on +you. To-night it will be locked in his safe—documentary evidence. If +you should change your mind—you can reach me at his office. Call under +an assumed name—Mrs. Green, perhaps." +</P> + +<P> +He was gone, with a mocking smile at the parting shot. +</P> + +<P> +Anita Douglas saw it all now. Things had not been going fast enough to +suit her new friend, Mrs. Murray. So, after a time, she had begun to +tell of her own escapades and to try to get Anita to admit that she had +had similar adventures. It was a favorite device of detectives, working +under the new psychological method by use of the law of suggestion. +</P> + +<P> +She had introduced herself, had found out about Lynn Munro, and in some +way, after he had left town, had got the letters. Was he in the plot, +too? She could not believe it. +</P> + +<P> +Suddenly the thought came to her that the blackmailers might give her +husband material that would look very black if a suit for divorce came +up in court. +</P> + +<P> +What if he were able to cut off her little allowance? She trembled at +the thought of being thus cast adrift on the world. +</P> + +<P> +Anita Douglas did not know which way to turn. In her dilemma she +thought only of Constance. She hurried to her. +</P> + +<P> +"It was as you said, a frame-up," she blurted out, as she entered +Constance's apartment, then in the same breath added, "That Mrs. Murray +was just a stool pigeon." +</P> + +<P> +Constance received her sympathetically. She had expected such a visit, +though not so soon. +</P> + +<P> +"Just how much do they—know?" she asked pointedly. +</P> + +<P> +Anita had pressed her hands together nervously. "Really—I confess," +she murmured, "indiscretions—yes; misconduct—no!" +</P> + +<P> +She spoke the last words defiantly. Constance listened eagerly, though +she did not betray it. +</P> + +<P> +She had found out that it was a curious twist in feminine psychology +that the lie under such circumstances was a virtue, that it showed that +there was hope for such a woman. Admission of the truth, even to a +friend, would have shown that the woman was hopelessly lost. Lie or +not, Constance felt in her inmost heart that she approved of it. +</P> + +<P> +"Still, it looks badly," she remarked. +</P> + +<P> +"Perhaps it does—on the surface," persisted Anita. +</P> + +<P> +"You poor dear creature," soothed Constance. "I don't say I blame you +for your—indiscreet friendships. You are more sinned against than +sinning." +</P> + +<P> +Sympathy had its effect. Anita was now sobbing softly, as Constance +stole her arm about her waist. +</P> + +<P> +"The next question," she reasoned, considering aloud, "is, of course, +what to do? If it was just one of these blackmailing detective cases it +would be common, but still very hard to deal with. There's a lot of +such blackmailing going on in New York. Next to business and political +cases, I suppose, it is the private detective's most important graft. +Nearly everybody has a past—although few are willing to admit it. The +graft lies in the fact that people talk so much, are so indiscreet, +take such reckless chances. It's a wonder, really, that there isn't +more of it." +</P> + +<P> +"Yet there is the—evidence, as he called it—my letters to Lynn—and +the reports that that woman must have made of our—our conversations," +groaned Anita. "How they may distort it all!" +</P> + +<P> +Constance was thinking rapidly. +</P> + +<P> +"It is now after four o'clock," she said finally, looking at her wrist +watch. "You say it was not half an hour ago that Drummond called on +you. He must be downtown about now. Your husband will hardly have a +chance more than to glance over the papers this afternoon." +</P> + +<P> +Suddenly an idea seemed to occur to her. "What do you suppose he will +do with them?" she asked. +</P> + +<P> +Mrs. Douglas looked up through her tears, calmer. "He is very +methodical," she answered slowly. "If I know him rightly, I think he +will probably go out to Glenclair with them to-night, to look them +over." +</P> + +<P> +"Where will he keep them?" broke in Constance suddenly. +</P> + +<P> +"He has a little safe in the library out there where he keeps all such +personal papers. I shouldn't be surprised if he looked them over and +locked them up there until he intends to use them at least until +morning." +</P> + +<P> +"I have a plan," exclaimed Constance excitedly. "Are you game?" +</P> + +<P> +Anita Douglas looked at her friend squarely. In her face Constance read +the desperation of a woman battling for life and honor. +</P> + +<P> +"Yes," replied Anita in a low, tense tone, "for anything." +</P> + +<P> +"Then meet me after dinner in the Terminal. We'll go out to Glenclair." +</P> + +<P> +The two looked deeply into each other's eyes. Nothing was said, but +what each read was a sufficient answer to a host of unspoken questions. +</P> + +<P> +A moment after Mrs. Douglas had gone, Constance opened a cabinet. From +the false back of a drawer she took two little vials of powder and a +small bottle with a sponge. +</P> + +<P> +Then she added a long steel bar, with a peculiar turn at the end, to +her paraphernalia for the trip. +</P> + +<P> +Nothing further occurred until they met at the Terminal, or, in fact, +on the journey out. On most of the ride Mrs. Douglas kept her face +averted, looking out of the window into the blackness of the night. +Perhaps she was thinking of other journeys out to Glenclair, perhaps +she was afraid of meeting the curious gaze of any late sojourners who +might suffer from acute suburban curiosity. +</P> + +<P> +Quietly the two women alighted and quickly made their way from the +station up the main street, then diverged to a darker and less +frequented avenue. +</P> + +<P> +"There's the house," pointed out Mrs. Douglas, halting Constance, with +a little bitter exclamation. +</P> + +<P> +Evidently she had reasoned well. He had gone out there early and there +was a light in the library. +</P> + +<P> +"He isn't much of a reader," whispered Mrs. Douglas. "Oh—it's clear to +me that he has the stuff all right. He's devouring it, gloating over +it." +</P> + +<P> +The sound of footsteps approaching down the paved walk came to them. +Loitering on the streets of a suburban town always occasions suspicion, +and instinctively Constance drew Anita with her into the shadow of a +hedge that set off the house from that next to it. +</P> + +<P> +There was no fence cutting it off from the sidewalk, but at the corner +of the plot a large bush stood. In this bower they were perfectly +hidden in the shadow. +</P> + +<P> +Hour after hour they waited, watching that light in the library, +speculating what it was he was reading, while Anita, half afraid to +talk, wondered what it was that Constance had in mind. +</P> + +<P> +Finally the light in the library winked out and the house was in +darkness. +</P> + +<P> +Midnight passed, and with it the last belated suburbanite. +</P> + +<P> +At last, when the moon had disappeared under some clouds, Constance +pulled Anita gently along up the lawn. +</P> + +<P> +There was no sign of life about the house, yet Constance observed all +the caution she would have if it had been well guarded. +</P> + +<P> +Quickly they advanced over the open space to the cottage, approaching +in the shadow as much as possible. +</P> + +<P> +Tiptoeing over the porch, Constance tried a window, the window through +which had shown the tantalizing light. It was fastened. +</P> + +<P> +Without hesitation she pulled out the long steel bar with the twisted +head, and began to insert the sharp end between the sashes. +</P> + +<P> +"Aren't—you—afraid?" chattered her companion. +</P> + +<P> +"No," she whispered, not looking up from her work. "You know, most +persons don't know enough about jimmies. Against them an ordinary door +lock or window catch is no protection at all. Why, with this jimmy, +even a woman can exert a pressure of a ton or so. Not one catch in a +thousand can stand it—certainly not this one." +</P> + +<P> +Constance continued to work, muffling the lever as much as possible in +a piece of felt. +</P> + +<P> +At last a quick wrench and the catch yielded. +</P> + +<P> +The only thing wrong about it was the noise. There had been no wind, no +passing trolley, nothing to conceal it. +</P> + +<P> +They shrank back into the shadow, and waited breathless. Had it been +heard? Would a window open presently and an alarm be sounded? +</P> + +<P> +There was not a sound, save the rustle of the leaves in the night wind. +</P> + +<P> +A few minutes later Constance carefully raised the lower sash and they +stepped softly into the house—once the house over which Anita Douglas +had been mistress. +</P> + +<P> +Cautiously Constance pressed the button on a little pocket +storage-battery lamp and flashed it slowly about the room. +</P> + +<P> +All was quiet in the library. The library table was disordered, as if +some one in great stress of mind had been working at it. Anita wondered +what had been the grim thoughts of the man as he pondered on the mass +of stuff, the tissue of falsehoods that the blackmailing detective had +handed to him at such great cost. +</P> + +<P> +At last the cone of light rested on a little safe at the opposite end. +</P> + +<P> +"There it is," whispered Anita, pointing, half afraid even of the soft +tones of her own voice. +</P> + +<P> +Constance had pulled down all the shades quietly, and drew the curtains +tightly between the room and the foyer. +</P> + +<P> +On the top of the safe she was pouring some of the powder in a neat +pile from one of the vials. +</P> + +<P> +"What is that?" asked Anita, bending close to her ear. +</P> + +<P> +"Some powdered metallic aluminum mixed with oxide of iron," whispered +Constance in return. "I read of this thing in a scientific paper the +other day, and I determined to get some of it. But I didn't think I'd +ever really have occasion to use it." +</P> + +<P> +She added some powder from the other vial. +</P> + +<P> +"And that?" +</P> + +<P> +"Magnesium powder." +</P> + +<P> +Constance had lighted a match. +</P> + +<P> +"Stand back, Anita," she whispered, "back, Anita," she whispered, "back +in the farthest corner of the room, and keep quiet. Shut your +eyes—turn your face away!" +</P> + +<P> +There was a flash, blinding, then a steady, brilliant burst of +noiseless, penetrating, burning flame. +</P> + +<P> +Anita had expected an explosion. Instead she found that her eyes hurt. +She had not closed them tightly quick enough. +</P> + +<P> +Still, Constance's warning had been sufficient to prevent any damage to +the sight, and she slowly recovered. +</P> + +<P> +Actually, the burning powder seemed to be sinking into the very steel +of the safe itself, as if it had been mere ice! +</P> + +<P> +Was it an optical illusion, a freak of her sight? +</P> + +<P> +"Wh-what is it!" she whispered in awe, drawing closer to her friend. +</P> + +<P> +"Thermit," whispered Constance in reply, as the two watched the glowing +mass fascinated, "an invention of a German chemist named Goldschmidt. +It will burn a hole right through steel—at a terrific temperature, +three thousand or more degrees." +</P> + +<P> +The almost burned out mass seemed to fall into the safe as if it had +been a wooden box instead of chrome steel. +</P> + +<P> +They waited a moment, still blinking, to regain control over their eyes +in spite of the care they had used to shield them. +</P> + +<P> +Then they tiptoed across the floor. +</P> + +<P> +In the top of the safe yawned a hole large enough to stick one's hand +and arm through! +</P> + +<P> +Constance reached into the safe and drew out something on which she +flashed the pocket light. +</P> + +<P> +There was bundle after bundle of checks, the personal checks of a +methodical business man, carefully preserved. +</P> + +<P> +Hastily she looked them over. All seemed to be perfectly +straight—payments to tradesmen, to real estate agents, payments of all +sorts, all carefully labeled. +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, he'd never let anything like that lie around," remarked Anita, as +she began to comprehend what Constance was after. +</P> + +<P> +Constance was scrutinizing some of the checks more carefully than +others. Suddenly she held one up to the light. Apparently it was in +payment of legal services. +</P> + +<P> +Quickly she took the little bottle of brownish fluid which she had +brought with the sponge. +</P> + +<P> +She dipped the sponge in it lightly and brushed it over the check. Then +she leaned forward breathlessly. +</P> + +<P> +"Eradicating ink is simply a bleaching process," she remarked, "which +leaves the iron of the ink as a white oxide instead of a black oxide. +The proper reagent will restore the original color—partially and at +least for a time. Ah—yes—it is as I thought. There have been erasures +in these checks. Other names have been written in on some of them in +place of those that were originally there. The sulphide of ammonia +ought to bring out anything that is hidden here." +</P> + +<P> +There, faintly, was the original writing. It read, "Pay to the order +of—Helen Brett—" +</P> + +<P> +Mrs. Douglas with difficulty restrained an exclamation of anger and +hatred at the mere sight of the name of the other woman. +</P> + +<P> +"He was careful," remarked Constance. "Reckless at first in giving +checks-he has tried to cover it up. He didn't want to destroy them, yet +he couldn't have such evidence about. So he must have altered the name +on the canceled vouchers after they were returned to him paid by the +bank. Very clever—very." +</P> + +<P> +Constance reached into the safe again. There were some personal and +some business letters, some old check books, some silver and gold +trinkets and table silver. +</P> + +<P> +She gave a low exclamation. She had found a packet of letters and a +sheaf of typewritten flimsy tissue paper pages. +</P> + +<P> +Mrs. Douglas uttered a little cry, quickly suppressed. The letters were +those in her own handwriting addressed to Lynn Munro. +</P> + +<P> +"Here are Drummond's reports, too," Constance added. +</P> + +<P> +She looked them hastily over. The damning facts had been massed in a +way that must inevitably have prejudiced any case for the defense that +Mrs. Douglas might set up. +</P> + +<P> +"There—there's all the evidence against you," whispered Constance +hoarsely, handing it over to Anita. "It's all yours again. Destroy it." +</P> + +<P> +In her eagerness, with trembling hands, Anita had torn up the whole +mass of incriminating papers and had cast them into the fireplace. She +was just about to strike a match. +</P> + +<P> +Suddenly there came a deep voice from the stairs. +</P> + +<P> +"Well—what's all this?" +</P> + +<P> +Anita dropped the match from her nerveless hands. Constance felt an arm +grasp her tightly. For a moment a chill ran over her at being caught in +the nefarious work of breaking and entering a dwelling-house at night. +The hand was Anita's, but the voice was that of a man. +</P> + +<P> +Lights flashed all over the house at once, from a sort of electric +light system that could be instantly lighted and would act as a +"burglar expeller." +</P> + +<P> +It was Douglas himself. He was staring angrily at his wife and the +stranger with her. +</P> + +<P> +"Well!" he demanded with cold sarcasm. "Why this—this burglary?" +</P> + +<P> +Before he could quite take in the situation, with a quick motion, +Constance struck a match and touched it to the papers in the fireplace. +</P> + +<P> +As they blazed up he caught sight of what they were and almost leaped +across the floor. +</P> + +<P> +Constance laid her hand on his arm. "One moment, Mr. Douglas," she said +quietly. "Look at that!" +</P> + +<P> +"Who—who the devil are you?" he gasped. "What's all this?" +</P> + +<P> +"I think," remarked Constance slowly and quietly, "that your wife is +now in a position to prove that you—well, don't come into court with +clean hands, if you attempt to do so. Besides, you know, the courts +rather frown on detectives that practice collusion and conspiracy and +frame up evidence, to say nothing of trying to blackmail the victims. I +thought perhaps you'd prefer not to say anything about this—er—visit +to-night—after you saw that." +</P> + +<P> +Constance had quietly laid one of the erased checks on the library +table. Again she dipped the sponge into the brownish liquid. Again the +magic touch revealed the telltale name. With her finger she was +pointing to the faintly legible "Helen Brett" on the check as the +sulphide had brought it out. +</P> + +<P> +Douglas stared-dazed. +</P> + +<P> +He rubbed his eyes and stared again as the last of the flickering fire +died away. In an instant he realized that it was not a dream, that it +was all a fact. +</P> + +<P> +He looked from one to the other of the women. +</P> + +<P> +He was checkmated. +</P> + +<P> +Constance ostentatiously folded up the erased vouchers. +</P> + +<P> +"I—I shall not—make any—contest," Douglas managed to gasp huskily. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap11"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER XI +</H3> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +THE DOPE FIENDS +</H3> + +<P> +"I have a terrible headache," remarked Constance Dunlap to her friend, +Adele Gordon, the petite cabaret singer and dancer of the Mayfair, who +had dropped in to see her one afternoon. +</P> + +<P> +"You poor, dear creature," soothed Adele. "Why don't you go to see Dr. +Price? He has cured me. He's splendid—splendid." +</P> + +<P> +Constance hesitated. Dr. Moreland Price was a well-known physician. All +day and even at night, she knew, automobiles and cabs rolled up to his +door and their occupants were, for the most part, stylishly gowned +women. +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, come on," urged Adele. "He doesn't charge as highly as people seem +to think. Besides, I'll go with you and introduce you, and he'll charge +only as he does the rest of us in the profession." +</P> + +<P> +Constance's head throbbed frantically. She felt that she must have some +relief soon. "All right," she agreed, "I'll go with you, and thank you, +Adele." +</P> + +<P> +Dr. Price's office was on the first floor of the fashionable Recherche +Apartments, and, as she expected, Constance noted a line of motor cars +before it. +</P> + +<P> +They entered and were admitted to a richly furnished room, in mahogany +and expensive Persian rugs, where a number of patients waited. One +after another an attendant summoned them noiselessly and politely to +see the doctor, until at last the turn of Constance and Adele came. +</P> + +<P> +Dr. Price was a youngish, middle-aged man, tall, with a sallow +countenance and a self-confident, polished manner which went a long way +in reassuring the patients, most of whom were ladies. +</P> + +<P> +As they entered the doctor's sanctum behind the folding doors, Adele +seemed to be on very good terms indeed with him. +</P> + +<P> +They seated themselves in the deep leather chairs beside Dr. Price's +desk, and he inclined his head to listen to the story of their ailments. +</P> + +<P> +"Doctor," began Constance's introducer, "I've brought my friend, Mrs. +Dunlap, who is suffering from one of those awful headaches. I thought +perhaps you could give her some of that medicine that has done me so +much good." +</P> + +<P> +The doctor bowed without saying anything and shifted his eyes from +Adele to Constance. "Just what seems to be the difficulty?" he inquired. +</P> + +<P> +Constance told him how she felt, of her general lassitude and the big, +throbbing veins in her temples. +</P> + +<P> +"Ah—a woman's headaches!" he smiled, adding, "Nothing serious, +however, in this case, as far as I can see. We can fix this one all +right, I think." +</P> + +<P> +He wrote out a prescription quickly and handed it to Constance. +</P> + +<P> +"Of course," he added, as he pocketed his fee, "it makes no difference +to me personally, but I would advise that you have it filled at +Muller's—Miss Gordon knows the place. I think Muller's drugs are +perhaps fresher than those of most druggists, and that makes a great +deal of difference." +</P> + +<P> +He had risen and was politely and suavely bowing them out of another +door, at the same time by pressing a button signifying to his attendant +to admit the next patient. +</P> + +<P> +Constance had preceded Adele, and, as she passed through the other +door, she overheard the doctor whisper to her friend, "I'm going to +stop for you to-night to take a ride. I have something important I want +to say to you." +</P> + +<P> +She did not catch Adele's answer, but as they left the marble and onyx, +brass-grilled entrance, Adele remarked: "That's his car—over there. +Oh, but he is a reckless driver—dashes along pell-mell—but always +seems to have his eye out for everything—never seems to be arrested, +never in an accident." +</P> + +<P> +Constance turned in the direction of the car and was startled to see +the familiar face of Drummond across the street dodging behind it. What +was it now, she wondered—a divorce case, a scandal—what? +</P> + +<P> +The medicine was made up into little powders, to be taken until they +gave relief, and Constance folded the paper of one, poured it on the +back of her tongue and swallowed a glass of water afterward. +</P> + +<P> +Her head continued to throb, but she felt a sense of well-being that +she had not before. Adele urged her to take another, and Constance did +so. +</P> + +<P> +The second powder increased the effect of the first marvelously. But +Constance noticed that she now began to feel queer. She was not used to +taking medicine. For a moment she felt that she was above, beyond the +reach of ordinary rules and laws. She could have done any sort of +physical task, she felt, no matter how difficult. She was amazed at +herself, as compared to what she had been only a few moments before. +</P> + +<P> +"Another one?" asked Adele finally. +</P> + +<P> +Constance was by this time genuinely alarmed at the sudden unwonted +effect on herself. "N-no," she replied dubiously, "I don't think I want +to take any more, just yet." +</P> + +<P> +"Not another?" asked Adele in surprise. "I wish they would affect me +that way. Sometimes I have to take the whole dozen before they have any +effect." +</P> + +<P> +They chatted for a few minutes, and finally Adele rose. +</P> + +<P> +"Well," she remarked with a nervous twitching of her body, as if she +were eager to be doing something, "I really must be going. I can't say +I feel any too well myself." +</P> + +<P> +"I think I'll take a walk with you," answered Constance, who did not +like the continued effect of the two powders. "I feel the need of +exercise—and air." +</P> + +<P> +Adele hesitated, but Constance already had her hat on. She had seen +Drummond watching Dr. Price's door, and it interested her to know +whether he could possibly have been following Adele or some one else. +</P> + +<P> +As they walked along Adele quickened her pace, until they came again to +the drug store. +</P> + +<P> +"I believe I'll go in and get something," she remarked, pausing. +</P> + +<P> +For the first time in several minutes Constance looked at the face of +her friend. She was amazed to discover that Adele looked as if she had +had a spell of sickness. Her eyes were large and glassy, her skin cold +and sweaty, and she looked positively pallid and thin. +</P> + +<P> +As they entered the store Muller, the druggist, bowed again and looked +at Adele a moment as she leaned over the counter and whispered +something to him. Without a word he went into the arcana behind the +partition that cuts off the mysteries of the prescription room in every +drug store from the front of the store. +</P> + +<P> +When Muller returned he handed her a packet, for which she paid and +which she dropped quickly into her pocketbook, hugging the pocketbook +close to herself. +</P> + +<P> +Adele turned and was about to hurry from the store with Constance. "Oh, +excuse me," she said suddenly as if she had just recollected something, +"I promised a friend of mine I'd telephone this afternoon, and I have +forgotten to do it. I see a pay station here." Constance waited. +</P> + +<P> +Adele returned much quicker than one would have expected she could call +up a number, but Constance thought nothing of it at the time. She did +notice, however, that as her friend emerged from the booth a most +marvelous change had taken place in her. Her step was firm, her eye +clear, her hand steady. Whatever it was, reasoned Constance, it could +not have been serious to have disappeared so quickly. +</P> + +<P> +It was with some curiosity as to just what she might expect that +Constance went around to the famous cabaret that night. The Mayfair +occupied two floors of what had been a wide brownstone house before +business and pleasure had crowded the residence district further and +further uptown. It was a very well-known bohemian rendezvous, where +under-, demi-and upper-world rubbed elbows without friction and seemed +to enjoy the novelty and be willing to pay for it. +</P> + +<P> +Adele, who was one of the performers, had not arrived yet, but +Constance, who had come with her mind still full of the two unexpected +encounters with Drummond, was startled to see him here again. +Fortunately he did not see her, and she slipped unobserved into an +angle near the window overlooking the street. +</P> + +<P> +Drummond had been engrossed in watching some one already there, and +Constance made the best use she could of her eyes to determine who it +was. The outdoor walk and a good dinner had checked her headache, and +now the excitement of the chase of something, she knew not what, +completed the cure. +</P> + +<P> +It was not long before she discovered that Drummond was watching +intently, without seeming to do so, a nervous-looking fellow whose +general washed-out appearance of face was especially unattractive for +some reason or other. He was very thin, very pale, and very stary about +the eyes. Then, too, it seemed as if the bone in his nose was going, +due perhaps to the shrinkage of the blood vessels from some cause. +</P> + +<P> +Constance noticed a couple of girls whom she had seen Adele speak to on +several other occasions approaching the young man. +</P> + +<P> +There came an opportune lull in the music and from around the corner of +her protecting angle Constance could just catch the greeting of one of +the girls, "Hello, Sleighbells! Got any snow!" +</P> + +<P> +It was a remark that seemed particularly malapropos to the sultry +weather, and Constance half expected a burst of laughter at the +unexpected sally. +</P> + +<P> +Instead, she was surprised to hear the young man reply in a very +serious and matter-of-fact manner, "Sure. Got any money, May?" +</P> + +<P> +She craned her neck, carefully avoiding coming into Drummond's line of +vision, and as she did so she saw two silver quarters gleam momentarily +from hand to hand, and the young man passed each girl stealthily a +small white paper packet. +</P> + +<P> +Others came to him, both men and women. It seemed to be an established +thing, and Constance noted that Drummond watched it all covertly. +</P> + +<P> +"Who is that?" asked Constance of the waiter who had served her +sometimes when she had been with Adele, and knew her. +</P> + +<P> +"Why, they call him Sleighbells Charley," he replied, "a coke fiend." +</P> + +<P> +"Which means a cocaine fiend, I suppose!" she queried. +</P> + +<P> +"Yes. He's a lobbygow for the grapevine system they have now of selling +the dope in spite of this new law." +</P> + +<P> +"Where does he get the stuff!" she asked. +</P> + +<P> +The waiter shrugged his shoulders. "Nobody knows, I guess. I don't. But +he gets it in spite of the law and peddles it. Oh, it's all +adulterated—with some white stuff, I don't know what, and the price +they charge is outrageous. They must make an ounce retail at five or +six times the cost. Oh, you can bet that some one who is at the top is +making a pile of money out of that graft, all right." +</P> + +<P> +He said it not with any air of righteous indignation, but with a +certain envy. +</P> + +<P> +Constance was thinking the thing over in her mind. Where did the "coke" +come from? The "grapevine" system interested her. +</P> + +<P> +"Sleighbells" seemed to have disposed of all the "coke" he had brought +with him. As the last packet went, he rose slowly, and shuffled out. +Constance, who knew that Adele would not come for some time, determined +to follow him. She rose quietly and, under cover of a party going out, +managed to disappear without, as far as she knew, letting Drummond +catch a glimpse of her. This would not only employ her time, but it was +better to avoid Drummond as far as possible, at present, too, she felt. +</P> + +<P> +At a distance of about half a block she followed the curiously +shuffling figure. He crossed the avenue, turned and went uptown, turned +again, and, before she knew it, disappeared in a drug store. She had +been so engrossed in following the lobbygow that it was with a start +that she realized that he had entered Muller's. +</P> + +<P> +What did it all mean? Was the druggist, Muller, the man higher up? She +recalled suddenly her own experience of the afternoon. Had Muller tried +to palm off something on her? The more she thought of it the more sure +she was that the powders she had taken had been doped. +</P> + +<P> +Slowly, turning the matter over in her mind, she returned to the +Mayfair. As she peered in cautiously before entering she saw that +Drummond had gone. Adele had not come in yet, and she went in and sat +down again in her old place. +</P> + +<P> +Perhaps half an hour later, outside, she heard a car drive up with a +furious rattle of gears. She looked out of the window and, as far as +she could determine in the shadows, it was Dr. Price. A woman got out, +Adele. For a moment she stopped to talk, then Dr. Price waved a gay +good-bye and was off. All she could catch was a hasty, "No; I don't +think I'd better come in to-night," from him. +</P> + +<P> +As Adele entered the Mayfair she glanced about, caught sight of +Constance and came and sat down by her. +</P> + +<P> +It would have been impossible for her to enter unobserved, so popular +was she. It was not long before the two girls whom Constance had seen +dealing with "Sleighbells" sauntered over. +</P> + +<P> +"Your friend was here to-night," remarked one to Adele. +</P> + +<P> +"Which one?" laughed Adele. +</P> + +<P> +"The one who admired your dancing the other night and wanted to take +lessons." +</P> + +<P> +"You mean the young fellow who was selling something?" asked Constance +pointedly. +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, no," returned the girl quite casually. "That was Sleighbells," and +they all laughed. +</P> + +<P> +Constance thought immediately of Drummond. "The other one, then," she +said, "the thick-set man who was all alone!" +</P> + +<P> +"Yes; he went away afterward. Do you know him?" +</P> + +<P> +"I've seen him somewhere," evaded Constance; "but I just can't quite +place him." +</P> + +<P> +She had not noticed Adele particularly until now. Under the light she +had a peculiar worn look, the same as she had had before. +</P> + +<P> +The waiter came up to them. "Your turn is next," he hinted to Adele. +</P> + +<P> +"Excuse me a minute," she apologized to the rest of the party. "I must +fix up a bit. No," she added to Constance, "don't come with me." +</P> + +<P> +She returned from the dressing room a different person, and plunged +into the wild dance for which the limited orchestra was already tuning +up. It was a veritable riot of whirl and rhythm. Never before had +Constance seen Adele dance with such abandon. As she executed the wild +mazes of a newly imported dance, she held even the jaded Mayfair +spellbound. And when she concluded with one daring figure and sat down, +flushed and excited, the diners applauded and even shouted approval. It +was an event for even the dance-mad Mayfair. +</P> + +<P> +Constance did not share in the applause. At last she understood. Adele +was a dope fiend, too. She felt it with a sense of pain. Always, she +knew, the fiends tried to get away alone somewhere for a few minutes to +snuff some of their favorite nepenthe. She had heard before of the +cocaine "snuffers" who took a little of the deadly powder, placed it on +the back of the hand, and inhaled it up the nose with a quick intake of +breath. Adele was one. It was not Adele who danced. It was the dope. +</P> + +<P> +Constance was determined to speak. +</P> + +<P> +"You remember that man the girls spoke of?" she began. +</P> + +<P> +"Yes. What of him?" asked Adele with almost a note of defiance. +</P> + +<P> +"Well, I really DO know him," confessed Constance. "He is a detective." +</P> + +<P> +Constance watched her companion curiously, for at the mere word she had +stopped short and faced her. "He is?" she asked quickly. "Then that was +why Dr. Price—" +</P> + +<P> +She managed to suppress the remark and continued her walk home without +another word. +</P> + +<P> +In Adele's little apartment Constance was quick to note that the same +haggard look had returned to her friend's face. +</P> + +<P> +Adele had reached for her pocketbook with a sort of clutching eagerness +and was about to leave the room. +</P> + +<P> +Constance rose. "Why don't you give up the stuff?" she asked earnestly. +"Don't you want to?" +</P> + +<P> +For a moment Adele faced her angrily. Then her real nature seemed +slowly to come to the surface. "Yes," she murmured frankly. +</P> + +<P> +"Then why don't you?" pleaded Constance. +</P> + +<P> +"I haven't the power. There is an indescribable excitement to do +something great, to make a mark. It's soon gone, but while it lasts, I +can sing, dance, do anything—and then—every part of my body begins +crying for more of the stuff again." +</P> + +<P> +There was no longer any necessity of concealment from Constance. She +took a pinch of the stuff, placed it on the back of her wrist and +quickly sniffed it. The change in her was magical. From a quivering +wretched girl she became a self-confident neurasthenic. +</P> + +<P> +"I don't care," she laughed hollowly now. +</P> + +<P> +"Yes, I know what you are going to tell me. Soon I'll be 'hunting the +cocaine bug,' as they call it, imagining that in my skin, under the +flesh, are worms crawling, perhaps see them, see the little animals +running around and biting me." +</P> + +<P> +She said it with a half-reckless cynicism. "Oh, you don't know. There +are two souls in the cocainist—one tortured by the pain of not having +the stuff, the other laughing and mocking at the dangers of it. It +stimulates. It makes your mind work—without effort, by itself. And it +gives such visions of success, makes you feel able to do so much, and +to forget. All the girls use it." +</P> + +<P> +"Where do they get it?" asked Constance "I thought the new law +prohibited it." +</P> + +<P> +"Get it?" repeated Adele. "Why, they get it from that fellow they call +'Sleighbells.' They call it 'snow,' you know, and the girls who use it +'snowbirds.' The law does prohibit its sale, but—" +</P> + +<P> +She paused significantly. +</P> + +<P> +"Yes," agreed Constance; "but Sleighbells is only a part of the system +after all. Who is the man at the top?" +</P> + +<P> +Adele shrugged her shoulders and was silent. Still, Constance did not +fail to note a sudden look of suspicion which Adele shot at her. Was +Adele shielding some one? +</P> + +<P> +Constance knew that some one must be getting rich from the traffic, +probably selling hundreds of ounces a week and making thousands of +dollars. Somehow she felt a sort of indignation at the whole thing. Who +was it? Who was the man higher up? +</P> + +<P> +In the morning as she was working about her little kitchenette an idea +came to her. Why not hire the vacant apartment cross the hall from +Adele? An optician, who was a friend of hers, in the course of a recent +conversation had mentioned an invention, a model of which he had made +for the inventor. She would try it. +</P> + +<P> +Since, with Constance, the outlining of a plan was tantamount to the +execution, it was not many hours later before she had both the +apartment and the model of the invention. +</P> + +<P> +Her wall separated her from the drug store and by careful calculation +she determined about where came the little prescription department. +Carefully, so as to arouse no suspicion, she began to bore away at the +wall with various tools, until finally she had a small, almost +imperceptible opening. It was tedious work, and toward the end needed +great care so as not to excite suspicion. But finally she was rewarded. +Through it she could see just a trace of daylight, and by squinting +could see a row of bottles on a shelf opposite. +</P> + +<P> +Then, through the hole, she pushed a long, narrow tube, like a putty +blower. When at last she placed her eye at it, she gave a low +exclamation of satisfaction. She could now see the whole of the little +room. +</P> + +<P> +It was a detectascope, invented by Gaillard Smith, adapter of the +detectaphone, an instrument built up on the principle of the cytoscope +which physicians use to explore internally down the throat. Only, in +the end of the tube, instead of an ordinary lens, was placed what is +known as a "fish-eye" lens, which had a range something like nature has +given the eyes of fishes, hence the name. Ordinarily cameras, because +of the flatness of their lenses, have a range of only a few degrees, +the greatest being scarcely more than ninety. But this lens was +globular, and, like a drop of water, refracted light from all +directions. When placed so that half of it caught the light it "saw" +through an angle of 180 degrees, "saw" everything in the room instead +of just that little row of bottles on the shelf opposite. +</P> + +<P> +Constance set herself to watch, and it was not long before her +suspicions were confirmed, and she was sure that this was nothing more +than a "coke" joint. Still she wondered whether Muller was the real +source of the traffic of which Sleighbells was the messenger. She was +determined to find out. +</P> + +<P> +All day she watched through her detectascope. Once she saw Adele come +in and buy more dope. It was with difficulty that she kept from +interfering. But, she reflected, the time was not ripe. She had thought +the thing out. There was no use in trying to get at it through Adele. +The only way was to stop the whole curse at its source, to dam the +stream. People came and went. She soon found that he was selling them +packets from a box hidden in the woodwork. That much she had learned, +anyhow. +</P> + +<P> +Constance watched faithfully all day with only time enough taken out +for dinner. It was after her return from this brief interval that she +felt her heart give a leap of apprehension, as she looked again through +the detectascope. There was Drummond in the back of the store talking +to Muller and a woman who looked as if she might be Mrs. Muller, for +both, seemed nervous and anxious. +</P> + +<P> +As nearly as she could make out, Drummond was alternately threatening +and arguing with Muller. Finally the three seemed to agree, for +Drummond walked over to a typewriter on a table, took a fresh sheet of +carbon paper from a drawer, placed it between two sheets of paper, and +hastily wrote something. +</P> + +<P> +Drummond read over what he had written. It seemed to be short, and the +three apparently agreed on it. Then, in a trembling hand, Muller signed +the two copies which Drummond had made, one of which Drummond himself +kept and the other he sealed in an envelope and sent away by a boy. +Drummond reached into his pocket and pulled out a huge roll of bills of +large denomination. He counted out what seemed to be approximately +half, handed it to the woman, and replaced the rest in his pocket. What +it was all about Constance could only vaguely guess. She longed to know +what was in the letter and why the money had been paid to the woman. +</P> + +<P> +Perhaps a quarter of an hour after Drummond left Adele appeared again, +pleading for more dope. Muller went back of the partition and made up a +fresh paper of it from a bottle also concealed. +</P> + +<P> +Constance was torn by conflicting impulses. She did not want to miss +anything in the perplexing drama that was being enacted before her, yet +she wished to interfere with the deadly course of Adele. Still, perhaps +the girl would resent interference if she found out that Constance was +spying on her. She determined to wait a little while before seeing +Adele. It was only after a decided effort that she tore herself away +from the detectascope and knocked on Adele's door as if she had just +come in for a visit. Again she knocked, but still there was no answer. +Every minute something might be happening next door. She hurried back +to her post of observation. +</P> + +<P> +One of the worst aspects of the use of cocaine, she knew, was the +desire of the user to share his experience with some one else. The +passing on of the habit, which seemed to be one of the strongest +desires of the drug fiend, made him even more dangerous to society than +he would otherwise have been. That thought gave Constance an idea. +</P> + +<P> +She recalled also now having heard somewhere that it was a common +characteristic of these poor creatures to have a passion for fast +automobiling, to go on long rides, perhaps even without having the +money to pay for them. That, too, confirmed the idea which she had. +</P> + +<P> +As the night advanced she determined to stick to her post. What could +it have been that Drummond was doing? It was no good, she felt positive. +</P> + +<P> +Suddenly before her eye, glued to its eavesdropping aperture, she saw a +strange sight. There was a violent commotion in the store. Blue-coated +policemen seemed to swarm in from nowhere. And in the rear, directing +them, appeared Drummond, holding by the arm the unfortunate +Sleighbells, quaking with fear, evidently having been picked up already +elsewhere by the wily detective. +</P> + +<P> +Muller put up a stout resistance, but the officers easily seized him +and, after a hasty but thorough search, unearthed his cache of the +contraband drug. +</P> + +<P> +As the scene unfolded, Constance was more and more bewildered after +having witnessed that which preceded it, the signing of the letter and +the passing of the money. Muller evidently had nothing to say about +that. What did it mean? +</P> + +<P> +The police were still holding Muller, and Constance had not noted that +Drummond had disappeared. +</P> + +<P> +"It's on the first floor—left, men," sounded a familiar voice outside +her own door. "I know she's there. My shadow saw her buy the dope and +take it home." +</P> + +<P> +Her heart was thumping wildly. It was Drummond leading his squad of +raiders, and they were about to enter the apartment of Adele. They +knocked, but there was no answer. +</P> + +<P> +A few moments before Constance would have felt perfectly safe in saying +that Adele was out. But if Drummond's man had seen her enter, might she +not have been there all the time, be there still, in a stupor? She +dreaded to think of what might happen if the poor girl once fell into +their hands. It would be the final impulse that would complete her ruin. +</P> + +<P> +Constance did not stop to reason it out. Her woman's intuition told her +that now was the time to act—that there was no retreat. +</P> + +<P> +She opened her own door just as the raiders had forced in the flimsy +affair that guarded the apartment of Adele. +</P> + +<P> +"So!" sneered Drummond, catching sight of her in the dim light of the +hallway. "You are mixed up in these violations of the new drug law, +too!" +</P> + +<P> +Constance said nothing. She had determined first to make Drummond +display his hand. +</P> + +<P> +"Well," he ground out, "I'm going to get these people this time. I +represent the Medical Society and the Board of Health. These men have +been assigned to me by the Commissioner as a dope squad. We want this +girl. We have others who will give evidence; but we want this one, too." +</P> + +<P> +He said it with a bluster that even exaggerated the theatrical +character of the raid itself. Constance did not stop to weigh the value +of his words, but through the door she brushed quickly. Adele might +need her if she was indeed there. +</P> + +<P> +As she entered the little living-room she saw a sight which almost +transfixed her. Adele was there—lying across a divan, motionless. +</P> + +<P> +Constance bent over. Adele was cold. As far as she could determine +there was not a breath or a heart beat! +</P> + +<P> +What did it mean? She did not stop to think. Instantly there flashed +over her the recollection of an instrument she had read about at one of +the city hospitals, It might save Adele. Before any one knew what she +was doing she had darted to the telephone in the lower hall of the +apartment and had called up the hospital frantically, imploring them to +hurry. Adele must be saved. +</P> + +<P> +Constance had no very clear idea of what happened next in the +hurly-burly of events, until the ambulance pulled up at the door and +the white-coated surgeon burst in carrying a heavy suitcase. +</P> + +<P> +With one look at the unfortunate girl he muttered, "Paralysis of the +respiratory organs—too large a dose of the drug. You did perfectly +right," and began unpacking the case. +</P> + +<P> +Constance, calm now in the crisis, stood by him and helped as deftly as +could any nurse. +</P> + +<P> +It was a curious arrangement of tubes and valves, with a large rubber +bag, and a little pump that the doctor had brought. Quickly he placed a +cap, attached to it, over the nose and mouth of the poor girl, and +started the machine. +</P> + +<P> +"Wh-what is it?" gasped Drummond as he saw Adele's hitherto motionless +breast now rise and fall. +</P> + +<P> +"A pulmotor," replied the doctor, working quickly and carefully, "an +artificial lung. Sometimes it can revive even the medically dead. It is +our last chance with this girl." +</P> + +<P> +Constance had picked up the packet which had fallen beside Adele and +was looking at the white powder. +</P> + +<P> +"Almost pure cocaine," remarked the young surgeon, testing it. "The +hydrochloride, large crystals, highest quality. Usually it is +adulterated. Was she in the habit of taking it this way?" +</P> + +<P> +Constance said nothing. She had seen Muller make up the +packet—specially now, she recalled. Instead of the adulterated dope he +had given Adele the purest kind. Why? Was there some secret he wished +to lock in her breast forever? +</P> + +<P> +Mechanically the pulmotor pumped. Would it save her? +</P> + +<P> +Constance was living over what she had already seen through the +detectascope. Suddenly she thought of the strange letter and of the +money. +</P> + +<P> +She hurried into the drug store. Muller had already been taken away, +but before the officer left in charge could interfere she picked up the +carbon sheet on which the letter had been copied, turned it over and +held it eagerly to the light. +</P> + +<P> +She read in amazement. It was a confession. In it Muller admitted to +Dr. Moreland Price that he was the head of a sort of dope trust, that +he had messengers out, like Sleighbells, that he had often put dope in +the prescriptions sent him by the doctor, and had repeatedly violated +the law and refilled such prescriptions. On its face it was complete +and convincing. +</P> + +<P> +Yet it did not satisfy Constance. She could not believe that Adele had +committed suicide. Adele must possess some secret. What was it? +</P> + +<P> +"Is—is there any change?" she asked anxiously of the young surgeon now +engrossed in his work. +</P> + +<P> +For answer he merely nodded to the apparently motionless form on the +bed, and for a moment stopped the pulmotor. +</P> + +<P> +The mechanical movement of the body ceased. But in its place was a +slight tremor about the lips and mouth. +</P> + +<P> +Adele moved—was faintly gasping for breath! +</P> + +<P> +"Adele!" cried Constance softly in her ear. "Adele!" +</P> + +<P> +Something, perhaps a far-away answer of recognition, seemed to flicker +over her face. The doctor redoubled his efforts. +</P> + +<P> +"Adele—do you know me?" whispered Constance again. +</P> + +<P> +"Yes," came back faintly at last. "There—there's something—wrong with +it—They—they—" +</P> + +<P> +"How? What do you mean?" urged Constance. "Tell me, Adele." +</P> + +<P> +The girl moved uneasily. The doctor administered a stimulant and she +vaguely opened her eyes, began to talk hazily, dreamily. Constance bent +over to catch the faint words which would have been lost to the others. +</P> + +<P> +"They—are going to—double cross the Health Department," she murmured +as if to herself, then gathering strength she went on, "Muller and +Sleighbells will be arrested and take the penalty. They have been +caught with the goods, anyhow. It has all been arranged so that the +detective will get his case. Money—will be paid to both of them, to +Muller and the detective, to swing the case and protect him. He made me +do it. I saw the detective, even danced with him and he agreed to do +it. Oh, I would do anything—I am his willing tool when I have the +stuff. But—this time—it was—" She rambled off incoherently. +</P> + +<P> +"Who made you do it? Who told you?" prompted Constance. "For whom would +you do anything?" +</P> + +<P> +Adele moaned and clutched Constance's hand convulsively. Constance did +not pause to consider the ethics of questioning a half-unconscious +girl. Her only idea was to get at the truth. +</P> + +<P> +"Who was it?" she reiterated. +</P> + +<P> +Adele turned weakly. +</P> + +<P> +"Dr. Price," she murmured as Constance bent her ear to catch even the +faintest sound. "He told me—all about it—last night—in the car." +</P> + +<P> +Instantly Constance understood. Adele was the only one outside who held +the secret, who could upset the carefully planned frame-up that was to +protect the real head of the dope trust who had paid liberally to save +his own wretched skin. +</P> + +<P> +She rose quickly and wheeled about suddenly on Drummond. +</P> + +<P> +"You will convict Dr. Price also," she said in a low tone. "This girl +must not be dragged down, too. You will leave her alone, and both you +and Mr. Muller will hand over that money to her for her cure of the +habit." +</P> + +<P> +Drummond started forward angrily, but fell back as Constance added in a +lower but firmer tone, "Or I'll have you all up on a charge of +attempting murder." +</P> + +<P> +Drummond turned surlily to those of his "dope squad," who remained: +</P> + +<P> +"You can go, boys," he said brusquely. +</P> + +<P> +"There's been some mistake here." +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap12"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER XII +</H3> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +THE FUGITIVES +</H3> + +<P> +"Newspaper pictures seldom look like the person they represent," +asserted Lawrence Macey nonchalantly. +</P> + +<P> +Constance Dunlap looked squarely at the man opposite her at the table, +oblivious to the surroundings. It was a brilliant sight in the great +after-theater rendezvous, the beautiful faces and gowns, the exquisite +music, the bright lights and the gayety. She had chosen this time and +place for a reason. She had hoped that the contrast with what she had +to say would be most marked in its influence on the man. +</P> + +<P> +"Nevertheless," she replied keenly, "I recognize the picture—as though +you were Bertillon's new 'spoken portrait' of this Graeme Mackenzie." +</P> + +<P> +She deliberately folded up a newspaper clipping and shoved it into her +hand-bag on a chair beside the table. +</P> + +<P> +Lawrence Macey met her eye unflinchingly. +</P> + +<P> +"Suppose," he drawled, "just for the sake of argument, that you are +right. What would you do?" +</P> + +<P> +Constance looked at the unruffled exterior of the man. With her keen +perception she knew that it covered just as calm an interior. He would +have said the same thing if she had been a real detective, had walked +up behind him suddenly in the subway crush, had tapped his shoulder, +and whispered, "You're wanted." +</P> + +<P> +"We are dealing with facts, not suppositions," she replied evasively. +</P> + +<P> +Momentarily, a strange look passed over Macey's face. What was she +driving at—blackmail? He could not think so, even though he had only +just come to know Constance. He rejected the thought before it was half +formed. +</P> + +<P> +"Put it as you please," he persisted. "I am, then, this Graeme +Mackenzie who has decamped from Omaha with half a million—it is half a +million in the article, is it not?—of cash and unregistered stocks and +bonds. Now what would you do?" +</P> + +<P> +Constance felt unconsciously the shift which he had skilfully made in +their positions. Instead of being the pursuer, she was now the pursued, +at least in their conversation. He had admitted nothing of what her +quick intuition told her. +</P> + +<P> +Yet she felt an admiration for the sang-froid of Macey. She felt a +spell thrown over her by the magnetic eyes that seemed to search her +own. They were large eyes, the eyes of a dreamer, rather than of a +practical man, eyes of a man who goes far and travels long with the +woman on whom he fixes them solely. +</P> + +<P> +"You haven't answered my hypothetical question," he reminded her. +</P> + +<P> +She brought herself back with a start. "I was only thinking," she +murmured. +</P> + +<P> +"Then there is doubt in your mind what you would do?" +</P> + +<P> +"N—no," she hesitated. +</P> + +<P> +He bent over nearer across the table. "You would at least recall the +old adage, 'Do unto others as you would that they should do unto you'?" +he urged. +</P> + +<P> +It was uncanny, the way this man read her thoughts. +</P> + +<P> +"You know whom they say quotes scripture," she avoided. +</P> + +<P> +"And am I a—a devil?" +</P> + +<P> +"I did not say so." +</P> + +<P> +"You hinted it." +</P> + +<P> +She had. But she said, "No, nor hinted it." +</P> + +<P> +"Then you did not MEAN to hint it?" +</P> + +<P> +She looked away a moment at the gay throng. "Graeme Mackenzie," she +said, slowly, "what's the use of all this beating about? Why cannot we +be frank with one another?" +</P> + +<P> +She paused, then resumed, meditatively, "A long time ago I became +involved with a man in a scheme to forge checks. I would have done +anything for him, anything." +</P> + +<P> +A cloud passed over his face. She saw it, had been watching for it, but +appeared not to do so. His was a nature to brook no rivalry. +</P> + +<P> +"My husband had become involved in extravagances for which I was to +blame," she went on. +</P> + +<P> +The cloud settled, and in its place came a look of intense relief. He +was like most men. Whatever his own morals, he demanded a high standard +in her. +</P> + +<P> +"We formed an amateur partnership in crime," she hurried on. "He lost +his life, was unable to stand up against the odds, while he was alone, +away from me. Since then I have been helping those who have become +involved, on the wrong side, with the law. There," she concluded +simply, "I have put myself in your power. I have admitted my part in +something that, try as they would, they could never connect me with. I +have done it because—because I want to help you. Be as frank with me." +</P> + +<P> +He eyed her keenly again. The appeal was irresistible. +</P> + +<P> +"I can tell you Graeme Mackenzie's story," he began carefully. "Six +months ago there was a young man in Omaha who had worked faithfully for +a safe deposit company for years. He was getting eighty-five dollars a +month. That is more than it seems to you here in New York. But it was +very little for what he did. Why, as superintendent of the safe deposit +vaults he had helped to build up that part of the trust company's +business to such an extent that he knew he deserved more. +</P> + +<P> +"Now, a superintendent of a safe deposit vault has lots of chances. +Sometimes depositors give him their keys to unlock their boxes for +them. It is a simple thing to make an impression in wax or chewing gum +palmed in the hand. Or he has access to a number of keys of unrented +boxes; he can, as opportunity offers, make duplicates, and then when +the boxes are rented, he has a key. Even if the locks of unrented boxes +are blanks, set by the first insertion of the key chosen at random, he +can still do the same thing. And even if it takes two to get at the +idle keys, himself and another trusted employe, he can get at them, if +he is clever, without the other officer knowing it, though it may be +done almost before his eyes. You see, it all comes down to the honesty +of the man." +</P> + +<P> +He paused. Constance was fascinated at the coolness with which this man +had gone to work, and with which he told of it. +</P> + +<P> +"This superintendent earned more than he received. He deserved it. But +when he asked for a raise, they told him he was lucky to keep the +job,—they reduced him, instead, to seventy-five dollars. He was angry +at the stinging rebuke. He determined to make them smart, to show them +what he could do. +</P> + +<P> +"One noon he went out to lunch and—they have been looking for him ever +since. He had taken half a million in cash, stocks, and bonds, +unregistered and hence easily hypothecated and traded on." +</P> + +<P> +"And his motive?" she asked. +</P> + +<P> +He looked at her long and earnestly as if making up his mind to +something. "I think," he replied, "I wanted revenge quite as much as +the money." +</P> + +<P> +He said it slowly, measured, as if realizing that there was now nothing +to be gained by concealment from her, as if only he wanted to put +himself in the best light with the woman who had won from him his +secret. It was his confession! +</P> + +<P> +Acquaintances with Constance ripened fast into friendships. She had +known Macey, as he called himself, only a fortnight. He had been +introduced to her at a sort of Bohemian gathering, had talked to her, +direct, as she liked a man to talk. He had seen her home that night, +had asked to call, and on the other nights had taken her to the theater +and to supper. +</P> + +<P> +Delicately unconsciously, a bond of friendship had grown up between +them. She felt that he was a man vibrating with physical and mental +power, long latent, which nothing but a strong will held in check, a +man by whom she could be fascinated, yet of whom she was just a little +bit afraid. +</P> + +<P> +With Macey, it would have been difficult to analyze his feelings. He +had found in Constance a woman who had seen the world in all its +phases, yet had come through unstained by what would have drowned some +in the depths of the under-world, or thrust others into the degradation +of the demi-monde, at least. He admired and respected her. He, the +dreamer, saw in her the practical. She, an adventurer in amateur +lawlessness saw in him something kindred at heart. +</P> + +<P> +And so when a newspaper came to her in which she recognized with her +keen insight Lawrence Macey's face under Graeme Mackenzie's name, and a +story of embezzlement of trust company and other funds from the Omaha +Central Western Trust of half a million, she had not been wholly +surprised. Instead, she felt almost a sense of elation. The man was +neither better nor worse than herself. And he needed help. +</P> + +<P> +Her mind wandered back to a time, months before, when she had learned +the bitter lesson of what it was to be a legal outcast, and had +determined always to keep within the law, no matter how close to the +edge of things she went. +</P> + +<P> +Mackenzie continued looking at her, as if waiting for the answer to his +first question. +</P> + +<P> +"No," she said slowly, "I am not going to hand you over. I never had +any such intention. We are in each other's power. But you cannot go +about openly, even in New York, now. Some one besides myself must have +seen that article." +</P> + +<P> +Graeme listened blankly. It was true. His fancied security in the city +was over. He had fled to New York because there, in the mass of people, +he could best sink his old identity and take on a new. +</P> + +<P> +She leaned her head on her hand and her elbow on the table and looked +deeply into his eyes. "Let me take those securities," she said. "I will +be able to do safely what you cannot do." +</P> + +<P> +Graeme did not seem now to consider the fortune for which he had risked +so much. The woman before him was enough. +</P> + +<P> +"Will you?" he asked eagerly. +</P> + +<P> +"I will do with them as I would for myself, better, because—because it +is a trust," she accepted. +</P> + +<P> +"More than a trust," he added, as he leaned over in turn and in spite +of other diners in the restaurant took her hand. +</P> + +<P> +There are times when the rest of the critical world and its frigid +opinions are valueless. Constance did not withdraw her hand. Rather she +watched in his eyes the subtle physical change in the man that her very +touch produced, watched and felt a response in herself. +</P> + +<P> +Quickly she withdrew her hand. "I must go," she said rather hurriedly, +"it is getting late." +</P> + +<P> +"Constance," he whispered, as he helped her on with her wraps, brushing +the waiter aside that he might himself perform any duty that involved +even touching her, "Constance, I am in your hands—absolutely." +</P> + +<P> +It had been pleasant to dine with him. It was more pleasant now to feel +her influence and power over him. She knew it, though she only half +admitted it. They seemed for the moment to walk on air, as they +strolled, chatting, out to a taxicab. +</P> + +<P> +But as the cab drew up before her own apartment, the familiar +associations of even the entrance brought her back to reality suddenly. +He handed her out, and the excitement of the evening was over. She saw +the thing in its true light. This was the beginning, not the end. +</P> + +<P> +"Graeme," she said, as she lingered for a moment at the door. +"To-morrow we must find a place where you can hide." +</P> + +<P> +"I may see you, though?" he asked anxiously. +</P> + +<P> +"Of course. Ring me up in the morning, Graeme. Good-night," and she was +whisked up in the elevator, leaving Mackenzie with a sense of loss and +loneliness. +</P> + +<P> +"By the Lord," he muttered, as he swung down the street in preference +to taking a cab, "what a woman that is!" +</P> + +<P> +Together the next day they sought out a place where he could remain +hidden. Mackenzie would have been near her, but Constance knew better. +She chose a bachelor apartment where the tenants never arose before +noon and where night was turned into day. Men would not ask questions. +In an apartment like her own there was nothing but gossip. +</P> + +<P> +In the daytime he stayed at home. Only at night did he go forth and +then under her direction in the most unfrequented ways. +</P> + +<P> +Every day Constance went to Wall Street, where she had established +confidential relations with a number of brokers. Together they planned +the campaigns; she executed them with consummate skill and adroitness. +</P> + +<P> +Constance was amazed. Here was a man who for years had been able to +earn only eighty-five dollars a month and had not seemed to show any +ability. Yet he was able to speculate in Wall Street with such dash +that he seemed to be in a fair way, through her, to accumulate a +fortune. +</P> + +<P> +One night as they were hurrying back to Graeme's after a walk, they had +to pass a crowd on Broadway. Constance saw a familiar face hurrying by. +It gave her a start. It was Drummond, the detective. He was not, +apparently, looking for her. But then that was his method. He might +have been looking. At any rate it reminded her unpleasantly of the fact +that there were detectives in the world. +</P> + +<P> +"What's the matter?" asked Graeme, noticing the change in her. +</P> + +<P> +"I just saw a man I know." +</P> + +<P> +The old jealousy flushed his face. Constance laughed in spite of her +fears. Indeed, there was something that pleased her in his jealousy. +</P> + +<P> +"He was the detective who has been hounding me ever since that time I +told you about." +</P> + +<P> +"Oh," he subsided. But if Drummond had been there, Mackenzie could have +been counted on to risk all to protect her. +</P> + +<P> +"We must be more careful," she shuddered. +</P> + +<P> +Constance was startled one evening just as she was going out to meet +Graeme and report on the progress of the day at hearing a knock at her +door. +</P> + +<P> +She opened it. +</P> + +<P> +"I suppose you think I am your Nemesis," introduced Drummond, as he +stepped in, veiling the keenness of his search by an attempt to be +familiar. +</P> + +<P> +She had more than half expected it. She said nothing, but her coldness +was plainly one of interrogation. +</P> + +<P> +"A case has been placed in my hands by some western clients of ours," +he said by way of swaggering explanation, "of an embezzler who is +hiding in New York. It required no great reasoning power to decide that +the man's trail would sooner or later cross Wall Street. I believe it +has done so—not directly, but indirectly. The trail, I think, has +brought me back to the proverbial point of 'CHERCHEZ LA FEMME.' I am +delighted," he dwelt on the word to see what would be its effect, "to +see in the Graeme Mackenzie case my old friend, Constance Dunlap." +</P> + +<P> +"So," she replied quietly, "you suspect ME, now. I suppose <I>I</I> am +Graeme Mackenzie." +</P> + +<P> +"No," Drummond replied dubiously, "you are not Graeme Mackenzie, of +course. You may be Mrs. Graeme Mackenzie, for all I know. But I believe +you are the receiver of Graeme Mackenzie's stolen goods!" +</P> + +<P> +"You do?" she answered calmly. "That remains for you to prove. Why do +you believe it? Is it because you are ready to believe anything of me!" +</P> + +<P> +"I have noticed that you are more active downtown than—" +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, it is because I speculate. Have I no means of my own?" she asked +pointedly. +</P> + +<P> +"Where is he? Not here, I know. But where?" insinuated Drummond with a +knowing look. +</P> + +<P> +"Am I my brother's keeper?" she laughed merrily. "Come, now. Who is +this wonderful Graeme Mackenzie? First show me that I know him. You +know the rule in a murder case—you must prove the CORPUS DELICTI." +</P> + +<P> +Drummond was furious. She was so baffling. That was his weak point and +she had picked it out infallibly. Whatever his suspicions, he had been +able to prove nothing, though he suspected much in the buying and +selling of Constance. +</P> + +<P> +A week of bitterness, of a constant struggle against the wiles of one +of the most subtle sleuths followed, avoiding hidden traps that beset +her on every side. Was this to be the end of it all? Was Drummond's +heroic effort to entangle her to succeed at last? +</P> + +<P> +She felt that a watch of the most extraordinary kind was set on her, an +invisible net woven about her. Eyes that never slept were upon her; +there was no minute in her regular haunts that she was not guarded. She +knew it, though she could not see it. +</P> + +<P> +It was a war of subtle wits. Yet from the beginning Constance was the +winner of every move. She was on her mettle. They would not, she +determined, find Graeme through her. +</P> + +<P> +Days passed and the detectives still had no sign of the missing man. It +seemed hopeless, but, like all good detectives, Drummond knew from +experience that a clue might come to the surface when it was least +expected. Constance on her part never relaxed. +</P> + +<P> +One day it was a young woman dressed in most inconspicuous style who +followed close behind her, a woman shadow, one of the shrewdest in the +city. +</P> + +<P> +A tenant moved into the apartment across the hall from Constance, and +another hired an apartment in the next house, across the court. There +was constant espionage. She seemed to "sense" it. The newcomer was very +neighborly, explaining that her husband was a traveling salesman, and +that she was alone for weeks at a time. +</P> + +<P> +The lines tightened. The next door neighbor always seemed to be around +at mail time, trying to get a look at the postmarks on the Dunlap +letters. She had an excuse in the number of letters to herself. "Orders +for my husband," she would smile. "He gets lots of them personally +here." +</P> + +<P> +All their ingenuity went for naught. Constance was not to be caught +that way. +</P> + +<P> +They tried new tricks. If it was a journey she took, some one went with +her whom she had to shake off sooner or later. There were visits of +peddlers, gas men, electric light and telephone men. They were all +detectives, also, always seeking a chance to make a search that might +reveal her secret. The janitor who collected the waste paper found that +it had a ready sale at a high price. Every stratagem that Drummond's +astute mind could devise was called into play. But nothing, not a scrap +of new evidence did they find. +</P> + +<P> +Yet all the time Constance was in direct communication with Mackenzie. +</P> + +<P> +Graeme, in his enforced idleness, was more deeply in love with +Constance now than ever. He had eyes for nothing else. Even his +fortunes would have been disregarded, had he not felt that to do that +would have been the surest way to condemn himself before her. +</P> + +<P> +They had cut out the evening trips now, for fear of recognition. She +was working faithfully. Already she had cleaned up something like fifty +thousand dollars on the turn over of the stuff he had stolen. Another +week and it would be some thousands more. +</P> + +<P> +Yet the strain was beginning to show. +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, Graeme," she cried, one night after she had a particularly hard +time in shaking Drummond's shadows in order to make her unconventional +visit to him, "Graeme, I'm so tired of it all—tired." +</P> + +<P> +He was about to pour out what was in his own heart when she resumed, +"It's the lonesomeness of it. We are having success. But, what is +success—alone?" +</P> + +<P> +"Yes," he echoed, thinking of his feeling that night when she had left +him at the elevator, of the feeling now every moment of the time she +was away from him, "yes, alone!" +</P> + +<P> +With the utmost difficulty he restrained the wildly surging emotions +within him. He could not know with what effort Constance held her poise +so admirably, keeping always that barrier of reserve beyond which now +and then he caught a glimpse. +</P> + +<P> +"Let us cut out and bury ourselves in Europe," he urged. +</P> + +<P> +"No," she replied firmly. "Wait. I have a plan. Wait. We could never +get away. They would find us and extradite us surely." +</P> + +<P> +She was coming out of a broker's office one day after the close of the +market, only to run full tilt into Drummond, who had been waiting for +her, cat-like. Evidently he had a purpose. +</P> + +<P> +"You will be interested to know," remarked the detective, watching her +narrowly, "that District Attorney Wickham, who had the case in charge +out there, is in New York, with the president of the Central Western +Trust." +</P> + +<P> +"Yes?" she said non-committally. +</P> + +<P> +"I told them I was on the trail, through a woman, and they have come +here to aid me." +</P> + +<P> +Why had he told her that? Was it to put her on her guard or was it in a +spirit of bravado? She could not think so. It was not his style to +bluster at this stage of the game. No, there was a deep-laid purpose. +He expected her to make some move to extricate herself that would +display her hand and betray all. It was clever and a less clever person +than Constance would have fallen before the onslaught. +</P> + +<P> +Constance was thinking rapidly, as he told her where and how the new +pursuers were active. Here, she felt, was the crisis, her opportunity. +</P> + +<P> +Scarcely had Drummond gone, than she, too, was hurrying down the street +on her way to see Mackenzie's pursuers face to face. +</P> + +<P> +She found Wickham registered at the Prince Henry, a new hotel and sent +up her card. A few moments later he received her, with considerable +restraint as if he knew about her and had not expected so soon to have +to show his own hand. +</P> + +<P> +"I understand," she began quickly, "that you have come to New York +because Mr. Drummond claims to be able to clear up the Graeme Mackenzie +case." +</P> + +<P> +"Yes?" he replied quizzically. +</P> + +<P> +"Perhaps," she continued, coming nearer to the point of her +self-imposed mission, "perhaps there may be some other way to settle +this case than through Mr. Drummond." +</P> + +<P> +"We might hold you," he shot out quickly. +</P> + +<P> +"No," she replied, "you have nothing on me. And as for Mr. Mackenzie, I +understand, you don't even know where he is—whether he is in New York, +London, Paris, or Berlin, or whether he may not go from one city to +another at any moment you take open action." +</P> + +<P> +Wickham bit his lip. He knew she was right. Even yet the case hung on +the most slender threads. +</P> + +<P> +"I have been wondering," she continued, "if there is not some way in +which this thing can be compromised." +</P> + +<P> +"Never," exclaimed Wickham positively. "He must return the whole sum, +with interest to date. Then and only then can we consider his plea for +clemency." +</P> + +<P> +"You would consider it?" she asked keenly. +</P> + +<P> +"Of course. We should have to consider it. Voluntary surrender and +reparation would be something like turning state's witness—against +himself." +</P> + +<P> +Constance said nothing. +</P> + +<P> +"Can you do it?" he asked, watching craftily to see whether she might +not drop a hint that might prove valuable. +</P> + +<P> +"I know those who might try," she answered, catching the look. +</P> + +<P> +Wickham changed. +</P> + +<P> +"What if we should get him without your aid!" he blustered. +</P> + +<P> +"Try," she shrugged. +</P> + +<P> +Arguments and threats were of no avail with her. She would say nothing +more definite. She was obdurate. +</P> + +<P> +"You must leave it all to me," she repeated. "I would not betray him. +You cannot prove anything on ME." +</P> + +<P> +"Bring the stuff up here yourself, then," he insinuated. +</P> + +<P> +"But I don't trust you, either," she replied frankly. +</P> + +<P> +The two faced each other. Constance knew in her heart that it was going +to be a battle royal with this man, that now she had taken a step even +so far in the open it was every one for himself and the devil take the +hindmost. +</P> + +<P> +"I can't help it," he concluded. "Those are the terms. It is as far as +I can trust a—a thief." +</P> + +<P> +"But I will keep my word," she said quietly. "When you prove to me that +you are absolutely on the level, that Mackenzie can make restitution in +full with interest, and in return be left as free a man as he is at +this moment—why,—I can have him give up." +</P> + +<P> +"Mrs. Dunlap," said Wickham with an air of finality, "I will make one +concession. I will adopt any method of restitution he may prefer. But +it must be by direct dealing between Mackenzie and myself, with +Drummond present as well as Mr. Taylor, president of the Trust Company, +who is now also in New York. That is my ultimatum. Good-afternoon." +</P> + +<P> +Constance left the room with flushed face and eyes that glinted with +determination. Over and over she thought out methods to accomplish what +she had planned. When they complied with all the conditions that would +safeguard Mackenzie, she had determined to act. But Graeme must be +master of the situation. +</P> + +<P> +Cautiously she went through her usual elaborate precautions to shake +off any shadows that might be following her, and an hour later found +her with Mackenzie. +</P> + +<P> +"What has happened!" he asked eagerly, surprised at her early visit. +</P> + +<P> +Briefly she ran over the events of the afternoon. "Would you be +willing," she asked, "to go to District Attorney Wickham, hand over the +half million with, say, twelve thousand dollars interest, in return for +freedom?" +</P> + +<P> +Graeme looked at Constance a moment doubtfully. +</P> + +<P> +"I would not do that," he measured slowly. "How do I know what they +will do, the moment they get me in their power? No. Almost, I would say +that I would not go there under any guarantee they might give. I do not +trust them. The indictment must be dismissed first." +</P> + +<P> +"But they won't do that. The ultimatum was personal restitution." +</P> + +<P> +Constance was faced by an apparently insurmountable dilemma. She saw +and agreed with the reasonableness of Graeme's position. But there was +the opposition and obstinacy of Wickham, the bitterness and +unscrupulousness of Drummond. Here was a tremendous problem. How was +she to meet it? +</P> + +<P> +For perhaps half an hour they sat in silence. One plan after another +she rejected. +</P> + +<P> +Suddenly an idea occurred to her. Somewhere, in a bank, she had seen a +method which might meet the difficulty. +</P> + +<P> +"To-morrow—I will arrange it—to suit both of you," she cried +confidently. +</P> + +<P> +"How?" he asked. +</P> + +<P> +"Trust it all to me," she appealed. +</P> + +<P> +"All," replied Graeme, rising and standing before her. "All. I will do +anything you say." +</P> + +<P> +He was about to take her hand, but she rose. "No, Graeme. Not now. +There is work—the crisis. No, I must go. Trust me." +</P> + +<P> +It was not until noon of the next day that he saw Constance again. +There was an air of suppressed excitement about her as she entered the +apartment and placed on a table before him a small oblong box of black +enameled metal, beneath which was a roll of paper. Above was another +somewhat similar box with another roll of paper. +</P> + +<P> +Constance attached the instrument to the telephone, an enigmatical +conversation followed, and she hung up the receiver. +</P> + +<P> +A few minutes later, she took the stylus that was in the lower box. +Hastily across the blank paper she wrote the words, "We are ready." +</P> + +<P> +Mackenzie was too fascinated to ask questions. Suddenly, out of the +corner of his eye, he saw something in the upper box move, as if of +itself. It was a similar, self-inking stylus. +</P> + +<P> +"Watch!" exclaimed Constance. +</P> + +<P> +"Do you get this?" wrote the spirit hand. +</P> + +<P> +"Perfectly," she scrawled in turn. "Go ahead, as you promised." +</P> + +<P> +The upper stylus was now moving freely at the ends of its two rigid +arms, counterparts of those holding the lower stylus. +</P> + +<P> +"We promise," it wrote, "that in consideration of the return..." +</P> + +<P> +"What is it?" interrupted Graeme, as the meaning of the words even now +began to dawn on him. +</P> + +<P> +"A telautograph," she replied simply, "a long distance writer which I +have had installed over a leased wire from the hotel room of Wickham to +meet the demands of you two. With it you write over wires just as with +the telephone you talk over wires. It is as though you took one of the +old pantagraphs, split it in half, and had each half connected only by +the telephone wires. While you write on this transmitter, their +receiver records for them what you write. Look!" +</P> + +<P> +"... of $500,000," it continued to write, "in cash, stocks and bonds, +with interest to date, all proceedings against Graeme Mackenzie will be +dropped and the indictment quashed. +</P> + +<P> +"Marshall Taylor, Pres. Central Western Trust." +</P> + +<P> +"Maxwell Wickham, District Att'y." +</P> + +<P> +"Riley Drummond, Detective." +</P> + +<P> +"It is even broader than I had hoped," cried Constance in delight. +"Does that satisfy you, Graeme?" +</P> + +<P> +"Y-yes," he murmured, not through hesitation, but from the suddenness +and surprise of the thing. +</P> + +<P> +"Then sign this." +</P> + +<P> +She wrote quickly: "In consideration of the dropping of all charges +against me, I agree to tell the number and location of the safe deposit +box in New York where the stocks and bonds I possess are located and to +hand over a key and written order to the same. I now agree immediately +to pay by check the balance of the half million, including interest." +</P> + +<P> +She stepped aside from the machine. With a tremor of eagerness he +seized the stylus and underneath what she had written wrote boldly the +name, "Graeme Mackenzie." +</P> + +<P> +Next Constance herself took the stylus. "Place in the telautograph a +blank check," she wrote. "He will write in the name of the bank, the +amount, and the signature." +</P> + +<P> +She did the same. "Now, Graeme, sign this cheek on the Universal Bank +as Lawrence Macey," she said, writing in the amount. +</P> + +<P> +Mechanically he took the stylus. His fingers trembled as he held it, +but with an effort he controlled himself. It was too weird, too uncanny +to be true. Here he was, without stirring forth from the security of +his hiding place; there were his pursuers in their hotel. With the +precautions taken by Constance, neither party knew where the other was. +Yet they were in instant touch, not by the ear alone, but by +handwriting itself. +</P> + +<P> +He placed the stylus on the paper. She had already written in the +number of the check, the date, the bank, the amount, and the payee, +Marshall Taylor. Hastily Graeme signed it, as though in fear that they +might rescind their action before he could finish. +</P> + +<P> +"Now the securities," she said. "I have withdrawn already the amount we +have made trading—it is a substantial sum. Write out an order to the +Safe Deposit Company to deliver the key and the rest of the contents of +the box to Taylor. I have fixed it with them after a special interview +this morning. They understand." +</P> + +<P> +Again Graeme wrote, feverishly. +</P> + +<P> +"I—we—are entirely free from prosecution of any kind?" he asked +eagerly. +</P> + +<P> +"Yes," Constance murmured, with just a catch in her throat, as now that +the excitement was over, she realized that he was free, independent of +her again. +</P> + +<P> +The telautograph had stopped. No, it was starting again. Had there been +a slip! Was the dream at last to turn to ashes? They watched anxiously. +</P> + +<P> +"Mrs. Dunlap," the words unfolded, "I take my hat off to you. You have +put it across again. +</P> + +<P> +"DRUMMOND." +</P> + +<P> +Constance read it with a sense of overwhelming relief. It was a +magnanimous thing in Drummond. Almost she forgave him for many of the +bitter hours he had caused in the discharge of his duty. +</P> + +<P> +As they looked at the writing they realized its import. The detective +had abandoned the long search. It was as though he had put his "O.K." +on the agreement. +</P> + +<P> +"We are no longer fugitives!" exclaimed Graeme, drawing in a breath +that told of the weight lifted from him. +</P> + +<P> +For an instant he looked down into her upturned face and read the +conflict that was going on in her. She did not turn away, as she had +before. It flashed over him that once, not long ago, she had talked in +a moment of confidence of the loneliness she had felt since she had +embarked as the rescuer of amateur criminals. +</P> + +<P> +Graeme bent down and took her hand, as he had the first night when they +had entered their strange partnership. +</P> + +<P> +"Never—never can I begin to pay you what I owe," he said huskily, his +face near hers. +</P> + +<P> +He felt her warm breath almost on his cheek, saw the quick color come +into her face, her breast rise and fall with suppressed emotion. Their +eyes met. +</P> + +<P> +"You need not pay," she whispered. "I am yours." +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<P CLASS="finis"> +THE END +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR><BR> + + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Constance Dunlap, by Arthur B. Reeve + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK CONSTANCE DUNLAP *** + +***** This file should be named 5261-h.htm or 5261-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/5/2/6/5261/ + +Produced by Charles Franks and the Online Distributed +Proofreading Team. HTML version by Al Haines. + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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Reeve + +Posting Date: March 3, 2010 [EBook #5261] +Release Date: March, 2004 +First Posted: June 19, 2002 +Last Updated: July 31, 2005 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK CONSTANCE DUNLAP *** + + + + +Produced by Charles Franks and the Online Distributed +Proofreading Team. HTML version by Al Haines. + + + + + + + + + + +THE CRAIG KENNEDY SERIES + + + +CONSTANCE DUNLAP + +BY + +ARTHUR B. REEVE + + +WITH FRONTISPIECE + + + + +CONTENTS + +CHAPTER + + I THE FORGERS + II THE EMBEZZLERS + III THE GUN RUNNERS + IV THE GAMBLERS + V THE EAVESDROPPERS + VI THE CLAIRVOYANTS + VII THE PLUNGERS + VIII THE ABDUCTORS + IX THE SHOPLIFTERS + X THE BLACKMAILERS + XI THE DOPE FIENDS + XII THE FUGITIVES + + + + +CONSTANCE DUNLAP + + + + +CHAPTER I + +THE FORGERS + + +There was something of the look of the hunted animal brought to bay at +last in Carlton Dunlap's face as he let himself into his apartment late +one night toward the close of the year. + +On his breath was the lingering odor of whisky, yet in his eye and hand +none of the effects. He entered quietly, although there was no apparent +reason for such excessive caution. Then he locked the door with the +utmost care, although there was no apparent reason for caution about +that, either. + +Even when he had thus barricaded himself, he paused to listen with all +the elemental fear of the cave man who dreaded the footsteps of his +pursuers. In the dim light of the studio apartment he looked anxiously +for the figure of his wife. Constance was not there, as she had been on +other nights, uneasily awaiting his return. What was the matter? His +hand shook a trifle now as he turned the knob of the bedroom door and +pushed it softly open. + +She was asleep. He leaned over, not realizing that her every faculty +was keenly alive to his presence, that she was acting a part. + +"Throw something around yourself, Constance," he whispered hoarsely +into her ear, as she moved with a little well-feigned start at being +suddenly wakened, "and come into the studio. There is something I must +tell you tonight, my dear." + +"My dear!" she exclaimed bitterly, now seeming to rouse herself with an +effort and pretending to put back a stray wisp of her dark hair in +order to hide from him the tears that still lingered on her flushed +cheeks. "You can say that, Carlton, when it has been every night the +same old threadbare excuse of working at the office until midnight?" + +She set her face in hard lines, but could not catch his eye. + +"Carlton Dunlap," she added in a tone that rasped his very soul, "I am +nobody's fool. I may not know much about bookkeeping and accounting, +but I can add--and two and two, when the same man but different women +compose each two, do not make four, according to my arithmetic, but +three, from which,"--she finished almost hysterically the little speech +she had prepared, but it seemed to fall flat before the man's curiously +altered manner--"from which I shall subtract one." + +She burst into tears. + +"Listen," he urged, taking her arm gently to lead her to an easy-chair. + +"No, no, no!" she cried, now thoroughly aroused, with eyes that again +snapped accusation and defiance at him, "don't touch me. Talk to me, if +you want to, but don't, don't come near me." She was now facing him, +standing in the high-ceilinged "studio," as they called the room where +she had kept up in a desultory manner for her own amusement the art +studies which had interested her before her marriage. "What is it that +you want to say? The other nights you said nothing at all. Have you at +last thought up an excuse? I hope it is at least a clever one." + +"Constance," he remonstrated, looking fearfully about. Instinctively +she felt that her accusation was unjust. Not even that had dulled the +hunted look in his face. "Perhaps--perhaps if it were that of which you +suspect me, we could patch it up. I don't know. But, Constance, I--I +must leave for the west on the first train in the morning." He did not +pause to notice her startled look, but raced on. "I have worked every +night this week trying to straighten out those accounts of mine by the +first of the year and--and I can't do it. An expert begins on them in a +couple of days. You must call up the office to-morrow and tell them +that I am ill, tell them anything. I must get at least a day or two +start before they--" + +"Carlton," she interrupted, "what is the matter? What have you--" + +She checked herself in surprise. He had been fumbling in his pocket and +now laid down a pile of green and yellow banknotes on the table. + +"I have scraped together every last cent I can spare," he continued, +talking jerkily to suppress his emotion. "They cannot take those away +from you, Constance. And--when I am settled--in a new life," he +swallowed hard and averted his eyes further from her startled gaze, +"under a new name, somewhere, if you have just a little spot in your +heart that still responds to me, I--I--no, it is too much even to hope. +Constance, the accounts will not come out right because I am--I am an +embezzler." + +He bit off the word viciously and then sank his head into his hands and +bowed it to a depth that alone could express his shame. + +Why did she not say something, do something? Some women would have +fainted. Some would have denounced him. But she stood there and he +dared not look up to read what was written in her face. He felt alone, +all alone, with every man's hand against him, he who had never in all +his life felt so or had done anything to make him feel so before. He +groaned as the sweat of his mental and physical agony poured coldly out +on his forehead. All that he knew was that she was standing there, +silent, looking him through and through, as cold as a statue. Was she +the personification of justice? Was this but a foretaste of the +ostracism of the world? + +"When we were first married, Constance," he began sadly, "I was only a +clerk for Green & Co., at two thousand a year. We talked it over. I +stayed and in time became cashier at five thousand. But you know as +well as I that five thousand does not meet the social obligations laid +on us by our position in the circle in which we are forced to move." + +His voice had become cold and hard, but he did not allow himself to be +betrayed into adding, as he might well have done in justice to himself, +that to her even a thousand dollars a month would have been only a +beginning. It was not that she had been accustomed to so much in the +station of life from which he had taken her. The plain fact was that +New York had had an over-tonic effect on her. + +"You were not a nagging woman, Constance," he went on in a somewhat +softened tone. "In fact you have been a good wife; you have never +thrown it up to me that I was unable to make good to the degree of many +of our friends in purely commercial lines. All you have ever said is +the truth. A banking house pays low for its brains. My God!" he cried +stiffening out in the chair and clenching his fists, "it pays low for +its temptations, too." + +There had been nothing in the world Carlton would not have given to +make happy the woman who stood now, leaning on the table in cold +silence, with averted head, regarding neither him nor the pile of +greenbacks. + +"Hundreds of thousands of dollars passed through my hands every week," +he resumed. "That business owed me for my care of it. It was taking the +best in me and in return was not paying what other businesses paid for +the best in other men. When a man gets thinking that way, with a woman +whom he loves as I love you--something happens." + +He paused in the bitterness of his thoughts. She moved as if to speak. +"No, no," he interrupted. "Hear me out first. All I asked was a chance +to employ a little of the money that I saw about me--not to take it, +but to employ it for a little while, a few days, perhaps only a few +hours. Money breeds money. Why should I not use some of this idle money +to pay me what I ought to have? + +"When Mr. Green was away last summer I heard some inside news about a +certain stock. So it happened that I began to juggle the accounts. It +is too long a story to tell how I did it. Anybody in my position could +have done it--for a time. It would not interest you anyhow. But I did +it. The first venture was successful. Also the spending of the money +was very successful, in its way. That was the money that took us to the +fashionable hotel in Atlantic City where we met so many people. Instead +of helping me, it got me in deeper. + +"When the profit from this first deal was spent there was nothing to do +but to repeat what I had done successfully before. I could not quit +now. I tried again, a little hypothecation of some bonds. Stocks went +down. I had made a bad bet and five thousand dollars was wiped out, a +whole year's salary. I tried again, and wiped out five thousand more. I +was at my wits' end. I have borrowed under fictitious names, used names +of obscure persons as borrowers, have put up dummy security. It was +possible because I controlled the audits. But it has done no good. The +losses have far outbalanced the winnings and to-day I am in for +twenty-five thousand dollars." + +She was watching him now with dilating eyes as the horror of the +situation was burned into her soul. He raced on, afraid to pause lest +she should interrupt him. + +"Mr. Green has been talked into introducing scientific management and a +new system into the business by a certified public accountant, an +expert in installing systems and discovering irregularities. Here I am, +faced by certain exposure," he went on, pacing the floor and looking +everywhere but at her face. "What should I do? Borrow? It is useless. I +have no security that anyone would accept. + +"There is just one thing left." He lowered his voice until it almost +sank into a hoarse whisper. "I must cut loose. I have scraped together +what I can and I have borrowed on my life insurance. Here on the table +is all that I can spare. + +"To-night, the last night, I have worked frantically in a vain hope +that something, some way would at last turn up. It has not. There is no +other way out. In despair I have put this off until the last moment. +But I have thought of nothing else for a week. Good God, Constance, I +have reached the mental state where even intoxicants fail to +intoxicate." + +He dropped back again into the deep chair and sank his head again on +his hands. He groaned as he thought of the agony of packing a bag and +slinking for the Western express through the crowds at the railroad +terminal. + +Still Constance was silent. Through her mind was running the single +thought that she had misjudged him. There had been no other woman in +the case. As he spoke, there came flooding into her heart the sudden +realization of the truth. He had done it for her. + +It was a rude and bitter awakening after the past months when the +increased income, with no questions asked, had made her feel that they +were advancing. She passed her hands over her eyes, but there it was +still, not a dream but a harsh reality. If she could only have gone +back and undone it! But what was done, was done, She was amazed at +herself. It was not horror of the deed that sent an icy shudder over +her. It was horror of exposure. + +He had done it for her. Over and over again that thought raced through +her mind. She steeled herself at last to speak. She hardly knew what +was in her own mind, what the conflicting, surging emotions of her own +heart meant. + +"And so, you are leaving me what is left, leaving me in disgrace, and +you are going to do the best you can to get away safely. You want me to +tell one last lie for you." + +There was an unnatural hollowness in her voice which he did not +understand, but which cut him to the quick. He had killed love. He was +alone. He knew it. With a final effort he tried to moisten his parched +lips to answer. At last, in a husky voice, he managed to say, "Yes." + +But with all his power of will he could not look at her. + +"Carlton Dunlap," she cried, leaning both hands for support on the +table, bending over and at last forcing him to look her in the eyes, +"do you know what I think of you? I think you are a damned coward. +There!" + +Instead of tears and recriminations, instead of the conventional "How +could you do it?" instead of burning denunciation of him for ruining +her life, he read something else in her face. What was it? + +"Coward?" he repeated slowly. "What would you have me do--take you with +me?" + +She tossed her head contemptuously. + +"Stay and face it?" he hazarded again. + +"Is there no other way?" she asked, still leaning forward with her eyes +fixed on his. "Think! Is there no way that you could avoid discovery +just for a time? Carlton, you--we are cornered. Is there no desperate +chance?" + +He shook his head sadly. + +Her eyes wandered momentarily about the studio, until they rested on an +easel. On it stood a water color on which she had been working, trying +to put into it some of the feeling which she would never have put into +words for him. On the walls of the apartment were pen and ink sketches, +scores of little things which she had done for her own amusement. She +bit her lip as an idea flashed through her mind. + +He shook his head again mournfully. + +"Somewhere," she said slowly, "I have read that clever forgers use +water colors and pen and ink like regular artists. Think--think! Is +there no way that we--that I could forge a check that would give us +breathing space, perhaps rescue us?" + +Carlton leaned over the table toward her, fascinated. He placed both +his hands on hers. They were icy, but she did not withdraw them. + +For an instant they looked into each other's eyes, an instant, and then +they understood. They were partners in crime, amateurs perhaps, but +partners as they had been in honesty. + +It was a new idea that she had suggested to him. Why should he not act +on it? Why hesitate? Why stop at it? He was already an embezzler. Why +not add a new crime to the list? As he looked into her eyes he felt a +new strength. Together they could do it. Hers was the brain that had +conceived the way out. She had the will, the compelling power to carry +the thing through. He would throw himself on her intuition, her brain, +her skill, her daring. + +On his desk in the corner, where often until far into the night he had +worked on the huge ruled sheets of paper covered with figures of the +firm's accounts, he saw two goose-necked vials, one of lemon-colored +liquid, the other of raspberry color. One was of tartaric acid, the +other of chloride of lime. It was an ordinary ink eradicator. Near the +bottles lay a rod of glass with a curious tip, an ink eraser made of +finely spun glass threads which scraped away the surface of the paper +more delicately than any other tool that had been devised. There were +the materials for his, their rehabilitation if they were placed in his +wife's deft artist fingers. Here was all the chemistry and artistry of +forgery at hand. + +"Yes," he answered eagerly, "there is a way, Constance. Together we can +do it." + +There was no time for tenderness between them now. It was cold, hard +fact and they understood each other too well to stop for endearments. + +Far into the night they sat up and discussed the way in which they +would go about the crime. They practised with erasers and with brush +and water color on the protective coloring tint on some canceled checks +of his own. Carlton must get a check of a firm in town, a check that +bore a genuine signature. In it they would make such trifling changes +in the body as would attract no attention in passing, yet would yield a +substantial sum toward wiping out Carlton's unfortunate deficit. + +Late as he had worked the night before, nervous and shaky as he felt +after the sleepless hours of planning their new life, Carlton was the +first at the office in the morning. His hand trembled as he ran through +the huge batch of mail already left at the first delivery. He paused as +he came to one letter with the name "W. J. REYNOLDS CO." on it. + +Here was a check in payment of a small bill, he knew. It was from a +firm which habitually kept hundreds of thousands on deposit at the +Gorham Bank. It fitted the case admirably. He slit open the letter. +There, neatly folded, was the check: + + No. 15711. Dec. 27, 191--. + + THE GORHAM NATIONAL BANK + + Pay to the order of....... Green & Co....... + Twenty-five 00/100 ..................Dollars + $25.00/100 + + W. J. REYNOLDS Co., + per CHAS. M. BROWN, Treas. + + +It flashed over him in a moment what to do. Twenty-five thousand would +just about cover his shortage. The Reynolds firm was a big one, doing +big transactions. He slipped the check into his pocket. The check might +have been stolen in the mail. Why not? + +The journey uptown was most excruciatingly long, in spite of the fact +that he had met no one he knew either at the office or outside. At last +he arrived home, to find Constance waiting anxiously. + +"Did you get a check?" she asked, hardly waiting for his reply. "Let me +see it. Give it to me." + +The coolness with which she went about it amazed him. "It has the +amount punched on it with a check punch," she observed as she ran her +quick eye over it while he explained his plan. "We'll have to fill up +some of those holes made by the punch." + +"I know the kind they used," he answered. "I'll get one and a desk +check from the Gorham. You do the artistic work, my dear. My knowledge +of check punches, watermarks, and paper will furnish the rest. I'll be +back directly. Don't forget to call up the office a little before the +time I usually arrive there and tell them I am ill." + +With her light-fingered touch she worked feverishly, partly with the +liquid ink eradicator, but mostly with the spun-glass eraser. First she +rubbed out the cents after the written figure "Twenty-five." Carefully +with a blunt instrument she smoothed down the roughened surface of the +paper so that the ink would not run in the fibers and blot. Over and +over she practised writing the "Thousand" in a hand like that on the +check. She already had the capital "T" in "Twenty" as a guide. During +the night in practising she had found that in raising checks only seven +capital letters were used--O in one, T in two, three, ten, and +thousand, F in four and five, S in six and seven, E in eight, N in nine +and H in hundred. + +At last even her practice satisfied her. Then with a coolness born only +of desperation she wrote in the words, "Thousand 00/100." When she had +done it she stopped to wonder at herself. She was amazed and perhaps a +little frightened at how readily she adapted herself to the crime of +forgery. She did not know that it was one of the few crimes in which +women had proved themselves most proficient, though she felt her own +proficiency and native ability for copying. + +Again the eraser came into play to remove the cents after the figure +"25." A comma and three zeros following it were inserted, followed by a +new "00/100." The signature was left untouched. + +Erasing the name of "Green & Co.," presented greater difficulties, but +it was accomplished with as little loss of the protective coloring on +the surface of the check as possible. Then after the "Pay to the order +of" she wrote in, as her husband had directed, "The Carlton Realty Co." + +Next came the water color to restore the protective tint where the +glass eraser and the acids had removed it. There was much delicate +matching of tints and careful painting in with a fine camel's hair +brush, until at last the color of those parts where there had been an +erasure was apparently as good as any other part. + +Of course, under the microscope there could have been seen the angry +crisscrossing of the fibers of the paper due to the harsh action of the +acids and the glass eraser. Still, painting the whole thing over with a +little resinous liquid somewhat restored the glaze to the paper, at +least sufficiently to satisfy a cursory glance of the naked eye. + +There remained the difficulty of the protective punch marks. There they +were, a star cut out of the check itself, a dollar sign and 25 followed +by another star. + +She was still admiring her handiwork, giving it here and there a light +little fillip with the brush and comparing this check with some of +those which had been practised on last night, to see whether she had +made any improvement in her technique of forgery, when Carlton returned +with the punch and the blank checks on the Gorham Bank. + +From one of the blank checks he punched out a number of little stars +until there was one which in watermark and scroll work corresponded +precisely with that punched out in the original check. + +Constance, whose fingers had long been accustomed to fine work, fitted +in the little star after the $25, then took it out, moistened the edges +ever so lightly with glue on the end of a toothpick, and pasted it back +again. A hot iron completed the work of making the edges smooth and +unless a rather powerful glass had been used no one could have seen the +pasted-in insertion after the $25. + +Careful not to deviate the fraction of a hair's breadth from the +alignment Carlton took the punch, added three 0's, and a star after the +25, making it $25,000. Finally the whole thing was again ironed to give +it the smoothness of an original. Here at last was the completed work, +the first product of their combined skill in crime: + + No. 15711. Dec. 27,191--. + THE GORHAM NATIONAL BANK + + Pay to the order of... The Carlton Realty Co. + Twenty-five Thousand 00/100.........Dollars + $25,000.00/100 + + W. J. REYNOLDS Co., + per CHAS. M. BROWN, Treas. + + +How completely people may change, even within a few hours, was well +illustrated as they stood side by side and regarded their work with as +much pride as if it had been the result of their honest efforts of +years. They were now pen and brush crooks of the first caliber, had +reduced forgery to a fine art and demonstrated what an amateur might +do. For, although they did not know it, nearly half the fifteen +millions or so lost by forgeries every year was the work of amateurs +such as they. + +The next problem was presenting the check for collection. Of course +Carlton could not put it through his own bank, unless he wanted to +leave a blazed trail straight to himself. Only a colossal bluff would +do, and in a city where only colossal bluffs succeed it was not so +impossible as might have been first imagined. + +Luncheon over, they sauntered casually into a high-class office +building on Broadway where there were offices to rent. The agent was +duly impressed by the couple who talked of their large real estate +dealings. Where he might have been thoroughly suspicious of a man and +might have asked many embarrassing but perfectly proper questions, he +accepted the woman without a murmur. At her suggestion he even +consented to take his new tenants around to the Uptown Bank and +introduce them. They made an excellent impression by a first cash +deposit of the money Carlton had thrown down on the table the night +before. A check for the first month's rent more than mollified the +agent and talk of a big deal that was just being signed up to-day duly +impressed the bank. + +The next problem was to get the forged check certified. That, also, +proved a very simple matter. Any one can walk into a bank and get a +check for $25,000 certified, while if he appears, a stranger, before +the window of the paying teller to cash a check for twenty-five dollars +he would almost be thrown out of the bank. Banks will certify at a +glance practically any check that looks right, but they pass on the +responsibility of cashing them. Thus before the close of banking hours +Dunlap was able to deposit in his new bank the check certified by the +Gorham. + +Twenty-four hours must elapse before he could draw against the check +which he had deposited. He did not propose to waste that time, so that +the next day found him at Green & Co.'s, feeling much better. Really he +had come prepared now to straighten out the books, knowing that in a +few hours he could make good. + +The first hesitation due to the newness of the game had worn off by +this time. Nothing at all of an alarming nature had happened. The new +month had already begun and as most firms have their accounts balanced +only once a month, he had, he reasoned, nearly the entire four weeks in +which to operate. + +Conscience was dulled in Constance, also, and she was now busy with ink +eraser, the water colors, and other paraphernalia in a wholesale +raising of checks, mostly for amounts smaller than that in the first +attempt. + +"We are taking big chances, anyway," she urged him. "Why quit yet? A +few days more and we may land something worth while." + +The next day he excused himself from the office for a while and +presented himself at his new bank with a sheaf of new checks which she +had raised, all certified, and totaling some thousands more. + +His own check for twenty-five thousand was now honored. The relief +which he felt was tremendous after the weeks of grueling anxiety. At +once he hurried to a broker's and placed an order for the stocks he had +used on which to borrow. He could now replace everything in the safe, +straighten out the books, could make everything look right to the +systematizer, could blame any apparent irregularity on his old system. +Even ignorance was better than dishonesty. + +Constance, meanwhile, had installed herself in the little office they +had hired, as stenographer and secretary. Once having embarked on the +hazardous enterprise she showed no disposition to give it up yet An +office boy was hired and introduced at the bank. + +The mythical realty company prospered, at least if prosperity is +measured merely by the bank book. In less than a week the skilful pen +and brush of Constance had secured them a balance, after straightening +out Carlton's debts, that came well up to a hundred thousand dollars, +mostly in small checks, some with genuine signatures and amounts +altered, others complete forgeries. + +As they went deeper and deeper, Constance began to feel the truth of +their situation. It was she who was really at the helm in this +enterprise. It had been her idea; the execution of it had been mainly +her work; Carlton had furnished merely the business knowledge that she +did not possess. The more she thought of it during the hours in the +little office while he was at work downtown, the more uneasy did she +become. + +What if he should betray himself in some way? She was sure of herself. +But she was almost afraid to let him go out of her sight. She felt a +sinking sensation every time he mentioned any of the happenings in the +banking house. Could he be trusted alone not to betray himself when the +first hint of discovery of something wrong came? + +It was now near the middle of the month. It would not pay to wait until +the end. Some one of the many firms whose checks they had forged might +have its book balanced at any time now. From day to day small amounts +in cash had already been withdrawn until they were twenty thousand +dollars to the good. They planned to draw out thirty thousand now at +one time. That would give them fifty thousand, roughly half of their +forgeries. + +The check was written and the office boy was started to the bank with +it. Carlton followed him at a distance, as he had on other occasions, +ready to note the first sign of trouble as the boy waited at the +teller's window. At last the boy was at the head of the line. He had +passed the check in and his satchel was lying open, with voracious maw, +on the ledge below the wicket for the greedy feeding of stacks of +bills. Why did the teller not raise the wicket and shove out the money +in a coveted pile? Carlton seemed to feel that something was wrong. The +line lengthened and those at the end of the queue began to grow restive +at the delay. One of the bank's officers walked down and spoke to the +boy. + +Carlton waited no longer. The game was up. He rushed from his coign of +observation, out of the bank building, and dashed into a telephone +booth. + +"Quick, Constance," he shouted over the wire, "leave everything. They +are holding up our check. They have discovered something. Take a cab +and drive slowly around the square. You will find me waiting for you at +the north end." + +That night the newspapers were full of the story. There was the whole +thing, exaggerated, distorted, multiplied, until they had become +swindlers of millions instead of thousands. But nevertheless it was +their story. There was only one grain of consolation. It was in the +last paragraph of the news item, and read: "There seems to be no trace +of the man and woman who worked this clever swindle. As if by a +telepathic message they have vanished at just the time when their whole +house of cards collapsed." + +They removed every vestige of their work from the apartment. Everything +was destroyed. Constance even began a new water color so that that +might suggest that she had not laid aside her painting. + +They had played for a big stake and lost. But the twenty thousand +dollars was something. Now the great problem was to conceal it and +themselves. They had lost, yet if ever before they loved, it was as +nothing to what it was now that they had tasted together the bitter and +the sweet of their mutual crime. + +Carlton went down to the office the next day, just as before. The +anxious hours that his wife had previously spent thinking whether he +might betray himself by some slip were comparative safety as contrasted +with the uncertainty of the hours now. But the first day after the +alarm of the discovery passed off all right. Carlton even discussed the +case, his case, with those in the office, commented on it, condemned +the swindlers, and carried it off, he felt proud to say, as well as +Constance herself might have done had she been in his place. + +Another day passed. His account of the first day, reassuring as it had +been to her, did not lessen the anxiety. Yet never before had they +seemed to be bound together by such ties as knitted their very souls in +this crisis. She tried with a devotion that was touching to impart to +him some of her own strength to ward off detection. + +It was the afternoon of the second day that a man who gave the name of +Drummond called and presented a card of the Reynolds Company. + +"Have you ever been paid a little bill of twenty-five dollars by our +company?" he asked. + +Down in his heart Carlton knew that this man was a detective. "I can't +say without looking it up," he replied. + +Carlton touched a button and an assistant appeared. Something outside +himself seemed to nerve him up, as he asked: "Look up our account with +Reynolds, and see if we have been paid--what is it?--a bill for +twenty-five dollars. Do you recall it?" + +"Yes, I recall it," replied the assistant. "No, Mr. Dunlap, I don't +think it has been paid. It is a small matter, but we sent them a +duplicate bill yesterday. I thought the original must have gone astray." + +Carlton cursed him inwardly for sending the bill. But then, he +reasoned, it was only a question of time, after all, when the forgery +would be discovered. + +Drummond dropped into a half-confidential, half-quizzing tone. "I +thought not. Somewhere along the line that check has been stolen and +raised to twenty-five thousand dollars," he remarked. + +"Is that so?" gasped Carlton, trying hard to show just the right amount +of surprise and not too much. "Is that so?" + +"No doubt you have read in the papers of this clever realty company +swindle? Well, it seems to have been part of that." + +"I am sure that we shall be glad to do all in our power to cooperate +with Reynolds," put in Dunlap. + +"I thought you would," commented Drummond dryly. "I may as well tell +you that I fear some one has been tampering with your mail." + +"Tampering with OUR mail?" repeated Dunlap, aghast. "Impossible." + +"Nothing is impossible until it is proved so," answered Drummond, +looking him straight in the eyes. Carlton did not flinch. He felt a new +power within himself, gained during the past few days of new +association with Constance. For her he could face anything. + +But when Drummond was gone he felt as he had on the night when he had +finally realized that he could never cover up the deficit in his books. +With an almost superhuman effort he gripped himself. Interminably the +hours of the rest of the day dragged on. + +That night he sank limp into a chair on his return home. "A man named +Drummond was in the office to-day, my dear," he said. "Some one in the +office sent Reynolds a duplicate bill, and they know about the check." + +"Well?" + +"I wonder if they suspect me?" + +"If you act like that, they won't suspect. They'll arrest," she +commented sarcastically. + +He had braced up again into his new self at her words. But there was +again that sinking sensation in her heart, as she realized that it was, +after all, herself on whom he depended, that it was she who had been +the will, even though he had been the intellect of their enterprise. +She could not overcome the feeling that, if only their positions could +be reversed, the thing might even yet be carried through. + +Drummond appeared again at the office the next day. There was no +concealment about him now. He said frankly that he was from the Burr +Detective Agency, whose business it was to guard the banks against +forgeries. + +"The pen work, or, as we detectives call it, the penning," he remarked, +"in the case of that check is especially good. It shows rare skill. But +the pitfalls in this forgery game are so many that, in avoiding one, a +forger, ever so clever, falls into another." + +Carlton felt the polite third degree, as he proceeded: "Nowadays the +forger has science to contend with, too. The microscope and camera may +come in a little too late to be of practical use in preventing the +forger from getting his money at first, but they come in very neatly +later in catching him. What the naked eye cannot see in this check they +reveal. Besides, a little iodine vapor brings out the original 'Green & +Co.' on it. + +"We have found out also that the protective coloring was restored by +water color. That was easy. Where the paper was scratched and the +sizing taken off, it has been painted with a resinous substance to +restore the glaze, to the eye. Well, a little alcohol takes that off, +too. Oh, the amateur forger may be the most dangerous kind, because the +professional regularly follows the same line, leaves tracks, has +associates, but," he concluded impressively, "all are caught sooner or +later--sooner or later." + +Dunlap managed to maintain his outward composure admirably. Still the +little lifting of the curtain on the hidden mysteries of the new +detective art produced its effect. They were getting closer, and Dunlap +knew it, as Drummond intended he should. And, as in every crisis, he +turned naturally to Constance. Never had she meant so much to him as +now. + +That night as he entered the apartment he happened to glance behind +him. In the shadow down the street a man dodged quickly behind a tree. +The thing gave him a start. He was being watched. + +"There is just one thing left," he cried excitedly as he hurried +upstairs with the news. "We must both disappear this time." + +Constance took it very calmly. "But we must not go together," she added +quickly, her fertile mind, as ever, hitting directly on a plan of +action. "If we separate, they will be less likely to trace us, for they +will never think we would do that." + +It was evident that the words were being forced out by the conflict of +common sense and deep emotion. "Perhaps it will be best for you to +stick to your original idea of going west. I shall go to one of the +winter resorts. We shall communicate only through the personal column +of the Star. Sign yourself Weston. I shall sign Easton." + +The words fell on Carlton with his new and deeper love for her like a +death sentence. It had never entered his mind that they were to be +separated now. Dissolve their partnership in crime? To him it seemed as +if they had just begun to live since that night when they had at last +understood each other. And it had come to this--separation. + +"A man can always shift for himself better if he has no impediments," +she said, speaking rapidly as if to bolster up her own resolution. "A +woman is always an impediment in a crisis like this." + +In her face he saw what he had never seen before. There was love in it +that would sacrifice everything. She was sending him away from her, not +to save herself but to save him. Vainly he attempted to protest. She +placed her finger on his lips. Never before had he felt such +over-powering love for her. And yet she held him in check in spite of +himself. + +"Take enough to last a few months," she added hastily. "Give me the +rest. I can hide it and take care of myself. Even if they trace me I +can get off. A woman can always do that more easily than a man. Don't +worry about me. Go somewhere, start a new life. If it takes years, I +will wait. Let me know where you are. We can find some way in which I +can come back into your life. No, no,"--Carlton had caught her +passionately in his arms--"even that cannot weaken me. The die is cast. +We must go." + +She tore herself away from him and fled into her room, where, with set +face and ashen lips, she stuffed article after article into her grip. +With a heavy heart Carlton did the same. The bottom had dropped out of +everything, yet try as he would to reason it out, he could find no +other solution but hers. To stay was out of the question, if indeed it +was not already too late to run. To go together was equally out of the +question. Constance had shown that. "Seek the woman," was the first +rule of the police. + +As they left the apartment they could see a man across the street +following them closely. They were shadowed. In despair Carlton turned +toward his wife. A sudden idea had flashed over her. There were two +taxicabs at the station on the corner. + +"I will take the first," she whispered. "Take the second and follow me. +Then he cannot trace us." + +They were off, leaving the baffled shadow only time to take the numbers +of the cab. Constance had thought of that. She stopped and Carlton +joined her. After a short walk they took another cab. + +He looked at her inquiringly, but she said nothing. In her eyes he saw +the same fire that blazed when she had asked him if there was no way to +avoid discovery and had suggested it herself in the forgery. He reached +over and caressed her hand. She did not withdraw it, but her averted +eyes told that she could not trust even herself too far. + +As they stood before the gateway to the steps that led down into the +long under-river tunnel which was to swallow them so soon and project +them, each into a new life, hundreds, perhaps thousands of miles apart, +Carlton realized as never before what it all had meant. He had loved +her through all the years, but never with the wild love of the past two +weeks. Now there was nothing but blackness and blankness. He felt as +though the hand of fate was tearing out his wildly beating heart. + +She tried to smile at him bravely. She understood. For a moment she +looked at him in the old way and all the pent-up love that would have, +that had done and dared everything for him struggled in her rapidly +rising and falling breast. + +It was now or never. She knew it, the supreme effort. One word or look +too many from her and all would be lost. She flung her arms about him +and kissed him. "Remember--one week from to-day--a personal--in the +STAR," she panted. + +She literally tore herself from his arms, gathered up her grip, and was +gone. + +A week passed. The quiet little woman at the Oceanview House was still +as much a mystery to the other guests as when she arrived, +travel-stained and worn with the repressed emotion of her sacrifice. +She had appeared to show no interest in anything, to take her meals +mechanically, to stay most of the time in her room, never to enter into +any of the recreations of the famous winter resort. + +Only once a day did she betray the slightest concern about anything +around her. That was when the New York papers arrived. Then she was +always first at the news-stand, and the boy handed out to her, as a +matter of habit, the STAR. Yet no one ever saw her read it. Directly +afterward she would retire to her room. There she would pore over the +first page, reading and rereading every personal in it. Sometimes she +would try reading them backward and transposing the words, as if the +message they contained might be in the form of a cryptograph. + +The strain and the suspense began to show on her. Day after day passed, +until it was nearly two weeks since the parting in New York. Day after +day she grew more worn by worry and fear. What had happened? + +In desperation she herself wired a personal to the paper: "Weston. +Write me at the Oceanview. Easton." + +For three days she waited for an answer. Then she wired the personal +again. Still there was no reply and no hint of reply. Had they captured +him? Or was he so closely pursued that he did not dare to reply even in +the cryptic manner on which they had agreed! + +She took the file of papers which she kept and again ran through the +personals, even going back to the very day after they had separated. +Perhaps she had missed one, though she knew that she could not have +done so, for she had looked at them a hundred times. Where was he? Why +did he not answer her message in some way? No one had followed her. +Were they centering their efforts on capturing him? + +She haunted the news-stand in the lobby of the beautifully appointed +hotel. Her desire to read newspapers grew. She read everything. + +It was just two weeks since they had left New York on their separate +journeys when, on the evening of another newsless day, she was passing +the news-stand. From force of habit she glanced at an early edition of +an evening paper. + +The big black type of the heading caught her eye: + +NOTED FORGER A SUICIDE + +With a little shriek, half-suppressed, she seized the paper. It was +Carlton. There was his name. He had shot himself in a room in a hotel +in St. Louis. She ran her eye down the column, hardly able to read. In +heavier type than the rest was the letter they had found on him: + +MY DEAREST CONSTANCE, + +When you read this I, who have wronged and deceived you beyond words, +will be where I can no longer hurt you. Forgive me, for by this act I +am a confessed embezzler and forger. I could not face you and tell you +of the double life I was leading. So I have sent you away and have gone +away myself--and may the Lord have mercy on the soul of + +Your devoted husband, CARLTON DUNLAP. + +Over and over again she read the words, as she clutched at the edge of +the news-stand to keep from fainting--"wronged and deceived you," "the +double life I was leading." What did he mean? Had he, after all, been +concealing something else from her? Had there really been another woman? + +Suddenly the truth flashed over her. Tracked and almost overtaken, +lacking her hand which had guided him, he had seen no other way out. +And in his last act he had shouldered it all on himself, had shielded +her nobly from the penalty, had opened wide for her the only door of +escape. + + + + +CHAPTER II + +THE EMBEZZLERS + + +"I came here to hide, to vanish forever from those who know me." + +The young man paused a moment to watch the effect of his revelation of +himself to Constance Dunlap. There was a certain cynical bitterness in +his tone which made her shudder. + +"If you were to be discovered--what then?" she hazarded. + +Murray Dodge looked at her significantly, but said nothing. Instead, he +turned and gazed silently at the ruffled waters of Woodlake. There was +no mistaking the utter hopelessness and grim determination of the man. + +"Why--why have you told so much to me, an absolute stranger?" she +asked, searching his face. "Might I not hand you over to the detectives +who, you say, will soon be looking for you?" + +"You might," he answered quickly, "but you won't." + +There was a note of appeal in his voice as he pursued slowly, not as if +seeking protection, but as if hungry for friendship and most of all her +friendship, "Mrs. Dunlap, I have heard what the people at the hotel say +is your story. I think I understand, as much as a man can. Anyhow, I +know that you can understand. I have reached a point where I must tell +some one or go insane. It is only a question of time before I shall be +caught. We are all caught. Tell me," he asked eagerly, bending down +closer to her with an almost breathless intensity in his face as though +he would read her thoughts, "am I right? The story of you which I have +heard since I came here is not the truth, the whole truth. It is only +half the truth--is it not?" + +Constance felt that this man was dangerously near understanding her, as +no one yet had seemed to be. It set her heart beating wildly to know +that he did. And yet she was not afraid. Somehow, although she did not +betray the answer by a word or a look, she felt that she could trust +him. + +Through the door of escape from the penalty of her forgeries, which +Carlton Dunlap had thrown open for her by the manner of his death, +Constance had passed unsuspected. To return to New York, however, had +become out of the question. She had plenty of money for her present +needs, although she thought it best to say nothing about it lest some +one might wonder and stumble on the truth. + +She had closed up the little studio apartment, and had gone to a quiet +resort in the pines. Here, at least, she thought she might live +unobserved until she could plan out the tangled future of her life. + +There had seemed to be no need to conceal her identity, and she had +felt it better not to do so. She knew that her story would follow her, +and it had. She was prepared for that. She was prepared for the pity +and condescension of the gossips and had made up her mind to stand +aloof. + +Then came a day when a stranger had registered at the hotel. She had +not noticed him especially, but it was not long before she realized +that he was noticing her. Was he a detective? Had he found out the +truth in some uncanny way? She felt sure that the name on the hotel +register, Malcolm Dodd, was not his real name. + +Constance had not been surprised when the head waiter had seated the +young man at her table. No doubt he had manoeuvred it so. Nor did she +avoid the guarded acquaintance that resulted in the natural course of +events. + +One afternoon, shortly after his arrival, she had encountered him +unexpectedly on a walk through the pines. He appeared surprised to meet +her, yet she knew intuitively that he had been following her. Still, it +was so different now to have any one seek her company that, in spite of +her uncertainty of him, she almost welcomed his speaking. + +There was a certain deference in his manner, too, which did not accord +with Constance's ideas of a detective. Yet he did know something of +her. How much! Was it merely what the rest of the world knew? She could +not help seeing that the man was studying her, while she studied him. +There was a fascination about it, a fascination that the human mystery +always possesses for a woman. On his part, he showed keenly his +interest in her. + +Constance had met him with more frankness as she encountered him often +during the days that followed. She had even tried to draw him out to +talk of himself. + +"I came here," he had said one day when they were passing the spot +where he had overtaken her first, "without knowing a soul, not +expecting to meet any one I should care for, indeed hoping to meet no +one." + +Constance had said nothing, but she felt that at last he was going to +crash down the barrier of reserve. He continued earnestly, "Somehow or +other I have come to enjoy these little walks." + +"So have I," she admitted, facing him; "but, do you know, sometimes I +have thought that Malcolm Dodd is not your real name?" + +"Not my real name?" he repeated. + +"And that you are here for some other purpose than--just to rest. You +know, you might be a detective." + +He had looked at her searchingly. Then in a burst of confidence, he had +replied, "No, my name is not Dodd, as you guessed. But I am not a +detective, as you suspected at first. I have been watching you because, +ever since I heard your story here, I have been--well, not suspicious, +but--attracted. You seem to me to have faced a great problem. I, too, +have come to the parting of the ways. Shall I run or shall I fight?" + +He had handed her a card without hesitation. It bore the name, "Murray +Dodge, Treasurer, Globe Importing Company." + +"What do you mean?" she had asked quickly, hardly expecting an answer. +"What have you done?" + +"Oh, it is the usual trouble, I suppose," he had replied wearily, much +to her surprise. "I began as a boy in the company and ultimately worked +myself up as it grew, until I became treasurer. To cut it short, I have +used funds belonging to the company, lost them. I don't need to tell +you how a treasurer or a cashier can do that." + +Constance was actually startled. Was he what he represented himself to +be? Or was he leading her on in this way to a confession of her own +part, which she had covered so well, in the forgeries of her dead +husband? + +"How did you begin?" she asked tentatively. + +"A few years ago," he answered with a disconcerting lack of reserve, +"the company found that we could beat our competitors by a very simple +means. The largest stockholder, Mr. Dumont, was friendly with some of +the customs officials and--well, we undervalued our goods. It was easy. +The only thing necessary was to bribe some of the officials. The +president of the company, Walton Beverley, put the dirty work on me as +treasurer. Now you can imagine what that meant." + +He had fallen into a cynical tone again. + +"It meant that I soon found, or, rather, thought I found, that every +man has his price--some higher, some lower, but a price, nevertheless. +It was my business to find it, to keep it as low as I could with +safety. So it went, from one crooked thing to another. I knew I was +crooked, but not as bad, I think, as the rest who put the actual work +on me. I was unfortunate, weak perhaps. That is all. I tried to get +mine, too. I lost what I meant to put back after I had used it. They +are after me now, or soon will be--the crooks! And here I am, +momentarily expecting some one to walk up quietly behind me, tap me on +the shoulder and whisper, 'You're wanted.'" + +Time had not softened the bitterness of Constance's feelings. Somehow +she felt that the world, or at least society owed her for taking away +her husband. The world must pay. She sympathized with the young man who +was appealing to her for friendship. Why not help him? + +"Do you really, really want to know what I think?" asked Constance +after he had at last told her his wretched story. It was the first time +that she had looked at him since she realized that he was unburdening +the truth to her. + +"Yes," he answered eagerly, catching her eye. "Yes," he urged. + +"I think," she said slowly, "that you are running away from a fight +that has not yet begun." + +It thrilled her to be talking so. Once before she had tasted the +sweetness and the bitterness of crime. She did not stop to think about +right or wrong. If she had done so her ethics would have been strangely +illogical. It was enough that, short as their acquaintance had been, +she felt unconsciously that there was something latent in the spirit of +this man akin to her own. + +Murray also felt rather than understood the bond that had been growing +so rapidly between them. His was the temperament that immediately +translates feeling into action. He reached into his breast pocket. +There was the blue-black glint of a cold steel automatic. A moment he +balanced it in his hand. Then with a rapid and decisive motion of the +arm he flung it far from him. As it struck the water with a sound +horribly suggestive of the death gurgle of a lost man, he turned and +faced her. + +"There," he exclaimed with a new light in the defiant, desperate smile +that she had observed many times before, "there. The curtain +rises--instead of falls." + +Neither spoke for a few moments. At last he added, "What shall I do +next?" + +"Do?" she repeated. She felt now the weight of responsibility for +interfering with his desperate plans, but it did not oppress her. On +the contrary, it was a pleasant burden. "According to your own story," +she went on, "they know nothing yet, as far as you can see. You would +have forestalled them by taking this little vacation during which you +could disappear while they would discover the shortage. Do? Go back." + +"And when they discover it?" he asked evidently prepared for the answer +she had given and eager to know what she would propose next. + +Constance had been thinking rapidly. + +"Listen," she cried, throwing aside restraint now. "No one in New York +outside my former little circle knows me. I can live there in another +circle unobserved. For weeks I have been amusing myself by the study of +shorthand. I have picked up enough to be able to carry the thing off. +Discharge your secretary. Put an advertisement in the newspapers. I +will answer it. Then I will be able to help you. I cannot say at a +distance what you should do next. There, perhaps, I can tell you." + +What was it that had impelled her to say it? She could not have told. +Murray looked at her. Her very presence seemed to infuse new +determination into him. + +It was strange about this woman, what a wonderful effect she had on him. + +A few days before he would have laughed at any one who had suggested +that any woman might have aroused in him the passions that were now +surging through his heart. Ten thousand years ago, perhaps, he would +have seized her and carried her off in triumph to his clan or tribe. +To-day he must, he would win her by more subtle means. + +His mind was made up. She had pointed the way. That night Dodge left +Woodlake hastily for New York. + +To Constance a new purpose seemed to have entered into a barren life. +She was almost gay as she packed her trunks and grips and quietly +slipped into the city a few hours later and registered at a quiet hotel +for business women. + +Sure enough in the Star the next morning was the advertisement. She +wrote in a formal way, giving her telephone number. That afternoon, +apparently as soon as the letter had been delivered, a call came. The +following morning she was the private secretary of Murray Dodge, +sitting unobtrusively before a typewriter desk in a sort of little +anteroom that guarded the door to his office. + +She took pains to act the part of private secretary and no more. As +appeared natural to the rest of the office force at first she was much +with Murray, who made the most elaborate explanations of the detail of +the business. + +"Do they suspect anything?" she asked anxiously as soon as they were +absolutely alone. + +"I think so," he replied. "They said nothing except that they had not +expected me back so soon, I think the 'so soon' was an afterthought. +They didn't expect me back at all. For," he added significantly, "I've +been in fear and trembling until I could get you. They already have +asked the regular audit company to go over the books in advance of the +time when we usually employ them. I didn't ask why. I merely accepted +it with a nod. It might have meant bringing matters to a crisis now." + +He felt safer with Constance installed as his private secretary. True, +Beverley and Dumont had viewed her from the start with suspicion. + +Constance had been thinking hard out in her little office since she had +begun to understand how matters stood. "Well?" she demanded. "What of +it? Don't try to conceal it. Let them discover it. Go further. Dare +them. Court exposure." + +It was bold and ingenious. What a woman she was for meeting +emergencies. Murray, who had a will that had been accustomed to bend +others to his purposes except in the instance where they had bent him +and nearly broken him, recognized the masterful mind of Constance. He +was willing to allow her to play the game. + +Thus Constance began collecting the very data that would have sent +Murray to jail for bribery. Day by day as she worked on, the situation +became more and more delicate. They found themselves alone much of the +time now. Beverley was, or pretended to be, busy on other matters and +avoided Dodge as much as possible. Only the regular routine affairs +passed through his hands, but he said nothing. It gave him more time +with her. Dumont came in as rarely as it was possible. + +And as they worked along gathering the data Constance came to admire +Murray more than ever. She worked patiently over the big books, taking +only those on which the accountant was not engaged at such times as she +could get them without exciting suspicion. Together they dug out the +extent of the frauds that had been practiced on the Government for +years back. From the letter files they rescued notes and orders and +letters, pieced them together into as near a continuous record as they +could make. With his own knowledge of the books Dodge could count on +making better progress on the essential things than the regular +accountant of the audit company. He felt sure that they would finish +sooner and that they would have a closer report of the frauds of all +kinds than could be uncovered by the man who had been set on the trail +of Dodge to discover just how much of the illicit gains he had taken +for himself. + +Constance became aware soon that whenever she left the office at night +she was being followed. She had at first studiously repelled the offers +of Murray to see her home. It was not that he had taken advantage of +the situation into which she had put herself. He would never have done +that. Still, she wished a little more time to analyze her own +conflicting feelings toward him. Then, too, several times in the +crowded subway cars she had noticed a face that was familiar. It was +Drummond, never looking directly at her, always engrossed in something +else, yet never failing to note where she was going. That must be, she +reasoned, some of the work of Beverley and Dumont. + +Murray was now working feverishly. As he worked he found himself +feeling differently toward the whole affair. He actually came to enjoy +it with all its risks and uncertainty, to enjoy gathering the data +which, he should have said, ought really to be destroyed. Often he +caught himself wishing that everything had come out all right in the +end and that Constance really was his private secretary. + +Every moment with her seemed now to pass so quickly that he would +willingly have smashed all the clocks and destroyed all the calendars. +Association with other women had been tame beside his new friendship +with her. She had suffered, felt, lived. She fascinated him, as often +over the books they would stop to talk, talk of things the most +irrelevant, yet to him the most interesting, until she would bring him +back inevitably to the point of their work and start him again with a +new power and incentive toward the purpose she had in mind. + +To Constance he seemed to fill a blank spot in her empty life. If she +had been bitter toward the world for what had happened to her, the +pleasure of helping another to beat that harsh world seemed an +unspeakably sweet compensation. + +At last even Constance herself began to realize it. It was not, after +all, merely the bitterness toward society, that lured her on. She was +not a woman carved out of a block of stone. There was a sweetness about +this association that carried her along as if in a dream. She was +actually falling in love with him. + +One day she had been working later than usual. The accountant had shown +signs of approaching the end of his task sooner than they had expected. +Murray was waiting, as was his custom, for her to finish before he left. + +There was no sound in the almost deserted office building save the +banging of a door echoing now and then, or an insistent ring of the +elevator bell as an anxious office boy or stenographer sought to escape +after an extra period of work. + +Murray stood looking at her admiringly as she deftly shoved the pins +into her hat. Then he held her coat, which brought them close together. + +"It will soon be time for the final scene," he remarked. His manner was +different as he looked down at her. "We must succeed, Constance," he +went on slowly. "Of course, after it is over, it will be impossible for +me to remain here with this company. I have been looking around. I +must--we must clear ourselves. I already have an offer to go with +another company, much better than this position in every way--honest, +square, with no dirty work, such as I have had here." + +It was a moment that Constance had foreseen, without planning what she +would do. She moved to the door as if to go. + +"Take dinner with me to-night at the Riverside," he went on, mentioning +the name of a beautifully situated inn uptown overlooking the lights of +the Hudson and thronged by gay parties of pleasure seekers. + +Before she could say no, even though she would have said it, he had +linked his arm in hers, banged shut the door and they were being +whisked to the street in the elevator. + +This time, as they were about to go out of the building, she noticed +Drummond standing in the shadow of a corner back of the cigar counter +on the first floor. She told Murray of the times she had seen Drummond +following her. Murray ground his teeth. + +"He'll have to hustle this time," he muttered, handing her quickly into +a cab that was waiting for a fare. + +Before he could give the order where to drive she had leaned out of the +window, "To the ferry," she cried. + +Murray looked at her inquiringly. Then he understood. "Not to the +Riverside--yet," she whispered. "That man has just summoned a cab that +was passing." + +In her eyes Murray saw the same fire that had blazed when she had told +him he was running away from a fight that had not yet begun. As the cab +whirled through the now nearly deserted downtown streets, he reached +over in sheer admiration and caressed her hand. She did not withdraw +it, but her averted eyes and quick breath told that a thousand thoughts +were hurrying through her mind, divided between the man in the cab +beside her and the man in the cab following perhaps half a block behind. + +At the ferry they halted and pretended to be examining a time table, +though they bought only ferry tickets. Drummond did the same, and +sauntered leisurely within easy distance of the gate. Nothing seemed to +escape him, and yet never did he seem to be watching them. + +The gateman shouted "All aboard!" + +The door began to close. + +"Come," she tugged at his sleeve. + +They dodged in just in time. Drummond followed. They started across the +wagonway to the opposite side of the slip. He kept on the near side. +Constance swerved back again to the near side. Drummond had been +opposite them and they had now fallen in behind him. He was now ahead, +but going slowly. Murray felt her pulling back on his arm. With a +little exclamation she dropped her purse, which contained a few coins. +She had contrived to open it, and the coins ran in every possible +direction. Drummond was now on the boat. + +"All aboard," growled the guard surlily. "All aboard." + +"Go ahead, go ahead," shouted Murray, trying to pick up the scattered +change and scattering it the more. At last he understood. "Go ahead. +We'll take the next boat. Can't you see the lady has dropped her purse?" + +The gates closed. The warning whistle blew, and the ferryboat, +departed, bearing off Drummond alone. + + +Another cab took them to the Riverside. A new bond of experience had +been established between them. They dined quietly and as the lights +grew mellow she told him more of her story than she had ever breathed +to any other living soul. + +As Murray listened he looked his admiration for the daring of the +little woman opposite him at the table. + +They drifted.... + +It was the day of the threatened exposure. Curiously enough, Dodge felt +no nervousness. The understanding which he had reached or felt that he +had reached with Constance made him rather eager than otherwise to have +the whole affair over with at once. + +Drummond had been shut up for some time in the office of Beverley with +Dumont, going over the report which the accountant had prepared and +other matters--He had come in without seeing either Constance or +Murray, though they knew he must be nursing his chagrin over the +episode of the night before. + +"They are waiting to see you," reported Constance to Dodge, half an +hour later, after one of the office boys had been sent over as a formal +messenger to their office. + +"We are ready for them?" he asked, smiling at her. + +Constance nodded. + +"Then I shall go in. Wait a moment. When they have hurled their worst +at me I shall call on you. Have the stuff ready." + +There was no hesitation, no misgiving on the part of either, as he +strode into Beverley's office. Constance had prepared the record which +they had been working on, and for days had been momentarily expecting +this crisis. She felt that she was ready. + +An ominous silence greeted Dodge as he entered. + +"We have had experts on your books, Dodge," began Beverley, clearing +his throat, as Murray seated himself, waiting for them to speak first. + +"I have seen that," he replied dryly. + +"They are fifty thousand dollars short," shot out Dumont. + +"Indeed?" + +Dumont gasped at the coolness of the man. "Wh--what? You have nothing +to say? Why, sir," he added, raising his voice, "you have actually made +no effort to conceal it!" + +Dodge smiled cynically. "A consultation, will rectify it," was all he +said. "A conference will show you that it is all right." + +"A consultation?" broke in Beverley in rage. "A consultation in jail!" + +Still Dodge merely smiled. + +"Then you consider yourself trapped. You admit it," ground out Dumont. + +"Anything you please," repeated Dodge. "I am perfectly willing--" + +"Let us end this farce--now," cried Beverley hotly. "Drummond!" + +The detective had been doing some rapid thinking. "Just a moment," he +interrupted. "Don't be too precipitate. Hear his side, if he has any. I +can manage him. Besides, I have something else to say about another +person that will interest us all." + +"Then you are willing to have the consultation!" + +Drummond nodded. + +"Miss Dunlap," called Murray, taking the words almost from the +detective's lips, as he opened the door and held it for her to enter. + +"No--no. Alone," almost shouted Beverley. + +The detective signaled to him and he subsided, muttering. + +As she entered Drummond looked hard at her. Constance met him without +wavering an instant. + +"I think I've seen you before, MRS. Dunlap," insinuated the detective. + +"Perhaps," replied Constance, still meeting his sharp ferret eye +squarely, which increased his animosity. + +"Your husband was Carlton Dunlap, cashier of Green & Company, was he +not?" + +She bit her lip. The manner of his raking up of old scores, though she +had expected it, was cruel. It would have been cruel in court, if she +had had a lawyer to protect her rights. It was doubly cruel, merciless, +here. Before Dodge could interrupt, the detective added, "Who committed +suicide after forging checks to meet his--" + +Murray was at Drummond like a hound. "Another word from you and I'll +throttle you," he blurted out. + +"No, Murray, no. Don't," pleaded Constance. She was burning with +indignation, but it was not by violence that she expected to prevail. +"Let him say what he has to say." + +Drummond smiled. He had no scruples about a "third degree" of this +kind, and besides there were three of them to Dodge. + +"You were--both of you--at Woodlake not long ago, were you not?" he +asked calmly. + +There was no escaping the implication of the tone. Still Drummond was +taking no chances of being misunderstood. "There was one man," he went +on, "who embezzled for you. Here is another who has embezzled. How will +that look when it goes before a jury!" he concluded. + +The fight had shifted before it had well begun. Instead of being +between Dodge on one side and Beverley and Dumont on the other, it now +seemed to be a clash between a cool detective and a clever woman. + +"Mrs. Dunlap," interrupted Murray, with a mocking smile at the +detective, "will you tell us what you have found out since you have +been my private secretary?" + +Constance had not lost control of herself for a moment. + +"I have been looking over the books a little bit myself," she began +slowly, with all eyes riveted on her. "I find, for instance, that your +company has been undervaluing its imported goods. Undervaluing +merchandise is considered, I believe, one of the meanest forms of +smuggling. The undervaluer has frequently to make a tool of a man in +his employ. Then that tool must play on the frailties of an unfortunate +or weak examiner at the Public Stores where all invoices and +merchandise from foreign countries are examined." + +Drummond had been trying to interrupt, but she had ignored him, and was +speaking rapidly so that he could get no chance. + +"You have cheated the Government of hundreds of thousands dollars," she +hurried on facing Beverley and Dumont. "It would make a splendid +newspaper story." + +Dumont moved uneasily. Drummond was now staring. It was a new phase of +the matter to him. He had not counted on handling a woman like +Constance, who knew how to take advantage of every weak spot in the +armor. + +"We are wasting time," he interrupted brusquely. "Get back to the +original subject. There is a fifty thousand-dollar shortage on these +books." + +The attempt clumsily to shift the case away again from Constance to +Dodge was apparent. + +"Mrs. Dunlap's past troubles," Dodge asserted vigorously, "have nothing +to do with the case. It was cowardly to drag that in. But the other +matter of which she speaks has much to do with it." + +"One moment, Murray," cried Constance. "Let me finish what I began. +This is my fight, too, now." + +She was talking with blazing eyes and in quick, cutting tone. + +"For three years he did your dirty work," she flashed. "He did the +bribing--and you saved half a million dollars." + +"He has stolen fifty thousand," put in Beverley, white with anger. + +"I have kept an account of everything," pursued Constance, without +pausing. "I have pieced the record together so that he can now connect +the men higher up with the actual acts he had to do. He can gain +immunity by turning state's evidence. I am not sure but that he might +be able to obtain his moiety of what the Government recovers if the +matter were brought to suit and won on the information he can furnish." + +She paused. No one seemed to breathe. + +"Now," she added impressively, "at ten per cent. commission the half +million that he saved for you yields fifty thousand dollars. That, +gentlemen, is the amount of the shortage--an offset." + +"The deuce it is!" exclaimed Beverley. + +Constance reached for a telephone on the desk near her. + +"Get me the Law Division at the Customs House," she asked simply. + +Dumont was pale and almost speechless. Beverley could ill suppress his +smothered rage. What could they do? The tables had been turned. If they +objected to the amazing proposal Constance had made they might all go +to jail. Dodge even might go free, rich. They looked at Dodge and Mrs. +Dunlap. There was no weakening. They were as relentless as their +opponents had been before. + +Dumont literally tore the telephone from her. "Never mind about that +number, central," he muttered. + +Then he started as if toward the door. The rest followed. Outside the +accountant had been waiting patiently, perhaps expecting Drummond to +call on him to corroborate the report. He had been listening. There was +no sound of high voices, as he had expected. What did it mean? + +The door opened. Beverley was pale and haggard, Dumont worn and silent. +He could scarcely talk. Dodge again held the door for Constance as she +swept past the amazed accountant. + +All eyes were now fixed on Dumont as chief spokesman. + +"He has made a satisfactory explanation," was all he said. + +"I would lock all that stuff up in the strongest safe deposit vault in +New York," remarked Constance, laying the evidence that involved them +all on Murray's desk. "It is your only safeguard." + +"Constance," he burst forth suddenly, "you were superb." + +The crisis was past now and she felt the nervous reaction. + +"There is one thing more I want to say," he added in a low tone. + +He had crossed to where she was standing by the window, and bent over, +speaking with great emotion. + +"Since that afternoon at Woodlake when you turned me back again from +the foolish and ruinous course on which I had decided you--you have +been more to me than life. Constance, I have never loved until now. +Nothing has ever mattered except money. I never had any one else to +think of, care for, except myself. You have changed everything." + +She was gazing out of the window at the tall buildings. There, in a +myriad of offices, lay wealth untold, opportunity as yet untasted to +seize that wealth. Only for an instant she turned and looked at him, +then dropped her eyes. What lay that way? + +"You are clear now, respected, respectable," she said simply. + +"Yes, thank God. Clear and with a new ambition, thanks to you." + +She had been expecting this ever since that last night. The relief of +Murray to feel that the old score that would have ruined him was now +wiped off the slate was precisely what she had anticipated. + +Yet, somehow, it disappointed her. She felt instinctively that her +triumph was burning fast to ashes. + +"Keep clear," she faltered. + +"Constance," he urged, approaching closer and taking her cold hand. + +Was she to be the one to hold him back in any way from the new life +that was now before him? What if Drummond, in his animosity, ever got +the truth? She gently unclasped her hand from his. No, that happiness +was not for her. + +"I am afraid I am a crook at heart, Murray," she said sadly. "I have +gone too far to turn back. The brand is on me. But I am not altogether +bad--yet. Think of me always with charity. Yes," she cried wildly, "I +must return to my loneliness. No, do not try to stop me, you have no +right," she added bitterly as the reality of her situation burned +itself into her heart. + +She broke away from him wildly, but with set purpose. The world had +taken away her husband; now it was a lover; the world must pay. + + + + +CHAPTER III + +THE GUN RUNNERS + + +"We'll land here, Mrs. Dunlap." + +Ramon Santos, terror of the Washington State Department and of a half +dozen consulates in New York, stuck a pin in a map of Central America +spread out on a table before Constance. + +"Insurrectos will meet us," he pursued, then added, "but we must have +money, first, my dear Senora, plenty of money." + +Dark of eye and skin, with black imperial and mustache, tall, straight +as an arrow, Santos had risen and was now gazing down with rapt +attention, not at the map, but at Constance herself. + +Every curve of her face and wave of her hair, every line of her trim +figure which her filmy gown seemed to accentuate rather than conceal +added fire to his ardent glances. + +He touched lightly another pin sticking in a little, almost microscopic +island of the Caribbean. + +"Our plan, it is simple," he continued with animation in spite of his +foreign accent. "On this island a plant to print paper money, to coin +silver. With that we shall land, pay our men as they flock to us, +collect forces, seize cities, appropriate the customs. Once we start, +it is easy." + +Constance looked up quickly. "But that is counterfeiting," she +exclaimed. + +"No," rejoined Santos, "it is a war measure. We--the provisional +government--merely coin our own money. Besides, it will not be done in +this country. It will not come under your laws." + +There was a magnetism about the man that fascinated her, as he stood +watching the effect of his words. Instinctively she knew that it was +not alone enthusiasm over his scheme that inspired his confidences. + +"Though we are not counterfeiters," he went on, "we do not know what +moment our opponents may set your Secret Service to destroy all our +hopes. Besides, we must have money--now--to buy machinery, arms, +ammunition. We must find some one," he lowered his voice, "who can +persuade American bankers and merchants to take risks to gain valuable +concessions in the new state." + +Santos was talking rapidly and earnestly, urging his case on her. + +"We are prepared," he hurried on confidentially, "to give you, Senora, +half the money that you can raise for these purposes." + +He paused and stood before her. He was certainly a handsome figure, +this soldier of fortune, and he was at his best now. + +Constance looked out of the window of her sitting room. This was a +business proposition, not to be influenced by any sentiment. + +She watched the lights moving up and down the river and bay. There were +craft from the ends of the earth. She speculated on the romantic +secrets hidden in liner and tramp. Surely they could scarcely be more +romantic than the appeal Santos was making. + +"Will you help us?" urged Santos, leaning further over the map to read +her averted face. + +In her loneliness after she had given up Murray Dodge, life in New York +had seemed even more bitter to Constance than before. Yet the great +city cast a spell over her, with its countless opportunities for +adventure. She could not leave it, but had taken a suite in a quiet +boarding house overlooking the bay from the Heights in Brooklyn. + +One guest in particular had interested her. He was a Latin American, +Ramon Santos. She noticed that he seldom appeared at breakfast or +luncheon. But at dinner he often, ordered much as if it were seven +o'clock in the morning instead of the evening. He was a mystery and +mysteries interested her. Did he work all night and sleep all day? What +was he doing? + +She was astonished a few nights after her arrival to receive a call +from the mysterious evening breakfaster. + +"Pardon--I intrude," he began gracefully, presenting his card. "But I +have heard how clever you are, Senora Dunlap. A friend, in an importing +firm, has told me of you, a Mr. Dodge." + +Constance was startled at the name. Murray had indeed written a little +note expressing his entire confidence in Mr. Santos. Formal as it was, +Constance thought she could read between the lines the same feeling +toward her that he had expressed at their parting. + +Santos gave her no time to live over the past. + +"You see, Mrs. Dunlap," he explained, as he led up to the object of his +visit, "the time has come to overthrow the regime in Central +America--for a revolution which will bring together all the countries +in a union like the old United States of Central America." + +He had spread out the map on the table. + +"Only," he added, "we would call the new state, Vespuccia." + +"We?" queried Constance. + +"Yes--my--colleagues-you call it in English! We have already a Junta +with headquarters in an old loft on South Street, in New York." + +Santos indicated the plan of campaign on the map. + +"We shall strike a blow," he cried, bringing his fist down on the table +as if the blow had already fallen, "that will paralyze the enemy at the +very start!" + +He paused. + +"Will you help us raise the money?" he repeated earnestly. + +Constance had been inactive long enough. The appeal was romantic, +almost irresistible. Besides--no, at the outset she put out of +consideration any thought of the fascinating young soldier of fortune +himself. + +The spirit of defiance of law and custom was strong upon her. That was +all. + +"Yes," she replied, "I will help you." + +Santos leaned over, and with a graceful gesture that she could not +resent, raised her finger tips gallantly to his lips. + +"Thank you," he said with, a courtly smile. "We have already won!" + +The next day Ramon introduced her to the other members of the Junta. It +was evident that he was in fact as well as name their leader, but they +were not like the usual oily plotters of revolution who congregate +about the round tables in dingy back rooms of South Street cafes, +apportioning the gold lace, the offices, and the revenues among +themselves. There was an "air" about them that was different. + +"Let me present Captain Lee Gordon of the _Arroyo_," remarked Santos, +coming to a stockily-built, sun-burned man with the unmistakable look +of the Anglo-Saxon who has spent much time in the neighborhood of the +tropical sun. "The _Arroyo_ is the ship that is to carry the arms and +the plant to the island--from Brooklyn. We choose Brooklyn because it +is quieter over there--fewer people late at night on the streets." + +Captain Gordon bowed, without taking his eyes off Constance. + +"I am, like yourself, Mrs. Dunlap, a recent recruit," he explained. "It +is a wonderful plan," he added enthusiastically. "We shall sweep the +country with it." + +He flicked off the ash of his inevitable cigarette, much as if it were +the opposition of the governments they were to encounter. + +It was evident that the Captain was much impressed by Constance. Yet +she instinctively disliked the man. His cameraderie had something +offensive about it, as contrasted with the deferential friendship of +Santos. + +With all her energy, however, Constance plunged directly into her work. +Indeed, even at the start she was amazed to find that money for a +revolution could be raised at all. She soon, found that it could be +done more easily in New York than anywhere else in the world. + + There seemed to be something about her that apparently appealed to +those whom she went to see. She began to realize what a tremendous +advantage a woman of the world had in presenting the case and +convincing a speculator of the rich returns if the revolution should +prove successful. More than that, she quickly learned that it was best +to go alone, that it was she, quite as much as the promised concessions +for tobacco, salt, telegraph, telephone monopolies, that loosed the +purse strings. + +Her first week's report of pledges ran into the thousands with a +substantial immediate payment of real dollars. + +"How did you do it?" asked Santos in undisguised admiration, as she was +telling him one night of her success, in the dusty, cobwebbed little +ship chandlery on South Street where the Junta headquarters had been +established. + +"Dollar diplomacy," she laughed, not displeased at his admiration. "We +shall soon convert American dollars into Vespuccian bullets." + +They were alone, and a week had made much difference in the fascinating +friendship to Constance. + +"Let me show you what I have done," Ramon confided. "Already, I have +started together the 'counterfeiting plant,' as you call it." + +Piece by piece, as he had been able to afford them, he had been +ordering the presses, the stamping machine, and a little "reeding" or +milling machine for the edges of the coins. + +"The paper, the ink, and the bullion, we shall order now as we can," he +explained, resting his head on his elbow at the table beside her. +"Everything will be secured from firms which make mint supplies for +foreign governments. A photo-engraver is now engaged on the work of +copying the notes. He is making the plates by the photo-etching +process--the same as that by which the real money plates are made. +Then, too, there will be dies for the coins. Coined silver will be +worth, twice the cost of the bullion to us. Why," he added eagerly, "a +few more successful days, Senora, and we shall have even arms and +ammunition." + +A key turned in the door. Santos sprang to his feet. It was Gordon. + +"Ah, good evening," the Captain greeted them. The fact that they had +been talking so earnestly alone was not lost on him. "May I join the +conspiracy?" he smiled. "What luck to-day? By the way, I have just +heard of a consignment of a thousand rifles as good as new that can be +bought for a song." + +Santos, elated at the progress so far, told hastily of Constance's +success. "Let us get an option on them for a few days," he cried. + +"Good," agreed Gordon, "only," he added, shaking his finger playfully +at Constance, as the three left the headquarters, "don't let the +commander-in-chief monopolize ALL your time, Remember, we all need you +now. Santos, that was an inspiration to get Mrs. Dunlap on our side." + +Somehow she felt uncomfortable. She half imagined that a frown had +flitted over Santos' face. + +"Are you going to Brooklyn?" she asked him. + +"No, we shall be working at the Junta late to-night," he replied, as +they parted at the subway, he and Gordon to secure the option on the +guns, she to plan for the morrow. + +"I have made a good beginning," she congratulated herself, when, later +in her rooms, she was going over the list of names of commission +merchants who handled produce of South American countries. + +There was a tap on the door. + +Quickly, she shoved the list into the drawer of the table. + +"A gentleman to see you, downstairs, ma'am," announced the maid. + +As she pushed aside the portieres, her heart gave a leap--it was +Drummond. + +"Mrs. Dunlap," began the wily detective, seeming to observe everything +with eyes that seldom had the appearance of looking at anything, "I +think you will recall that we have met before." + +Constance bit her lip. "And why again?" she queried curtly. + +"I am informed," he went on coolly ignoring her curtness, "that there +is a guest in this house named Santos--Ramon Santos." + +He said it in a half insinuating, half questioning tone. + +"You might inquire of the landlady," replied Constance, now perfectly +composed. + +"Mrs. Dunlap," he burst forth, exasperated, "what is the use of beating +about? Do you know the real character of this Santos!" + +"It is a matter of perfect indifference," she returned. + +"Then you do not think a warning from me worth troubling about?" +demanded the detective. + +Constance continued to stand as if to terminate the interview. + +"I came here," continued the detective showing no evidence of taking +the hint, "to make a proposition to you. Mrs. Dunlap, you are in bad +again. But this time there is a chance for you to get out without risk. +I--I think I may talk plainly? We understand each other!" + +His manner had changed. Constance could not have described to herself +the loathing she felt for the man as it suddenly flashed over her what +he was after. If she had resented his familiarity before, it brought +the stinging blood to her cheeks now to realize that he was actually +seeking to persuade her to betray her friends. + +"Do you want to know what I think?" she scorned, then without waiting +added, "I think you are a crook--a blackmailer,--that's what I think of +a private detective like you." + +The defiance of the little woman amazed even Drummond. Instead of fear +as of the pursued, Constance Dunlap showed all the boldness of the +pursuer. + +"You have got to stop this swindling," the detective raged, taking a +step closer to her. "I know the bankers you have fooled. I know how +much you have worked them for." + +"Swindling?" she repeated coolly, in assumed surprise. "Who says I am +swindling?" + +"You know well enough what I mean--this revolution that is being +planned to bring about the new state of Vespuccia, as your friends +Santos and Gordon call it." + +"Vespuccia--Santos--Gordon?" + +"Yes," he shouted, "Vespuccia--Santos--Gordon. And I'll go further. +I'll tell you something you may not care to hear." + +Drummond leaned over closer to her in his favorite bulldozing manner +when he dealt with a woman. All the malevolence of the human bloodhound +seemed concentrated in his look. + +"Who forged those Carlton Realty checks?" he hissed. "Who played off +the weakness of Dumont and Beverley against the clever thefts of Murray +Dodge! Who is using a counterfeiter and a soldier of fortune and +swindling honest American bankers and business men as no man crook--you +seem to like that word--crook--could ever do?" + +Constance met him calmly. "Oh," she laughed airily, "I suppose you mean +to imply that it is I." + +"I don't imply," he ground out, "I assert--accuse." + +Constance shrugged her pretty shoulders. + +"I want to tell you that I am employed by the Central American +consulates in this city," blustered Drummond. "And I am waiting only +for one thing. The moment an order is given for the withdrawal of that +stuff from the little shop in South Street--you know what I mean--I am +ready. I shall not be alone, then. You will have the power of the +United States Secret Service to deal with, this time, my clever lady." + +"Well, what of that?" + +"There is this much of it. I warn you now against working with this +Santos. He--you--can make no move that we do not know." + +Why had Drummond come to see her? Constance was asking herself. The +very insolence of the man seemed to arouse all the combativeness of her +nature. The detective had thought to "throw a scare into" her. She +turned suddenly and swept out of the room. + +"I thank you for your kindness," she said icily. "It is unnecessary. +Good-night." + +In her own room she paced the floor nervously, now that the strain was +off. Should she desert Santos and save herself? He had more need of her +help now than ever before. She did not stop to analyze her own +feelings. She knew he had been making love to her during the past week +as only a Spaniard could. It fascinated her without blinding her. Yes, +she would match her wits against this detective, clever though she knew +he was. But Santos must be warned. + +Santos and Gordon were alone when she burst in on them, breathlessly, +an hour later at the Junta. + +"What is the matter?" inquired Ramon quickly, placing a chair for her. + +Gordon looked his admiration for the little woman, though he did not +speak it. She saw him cast a sidewise glance at Santos and herself. + +Though the three were friends, it was evident to her that Gordon did +not trust Santos any further than the suspicious Anglo-Saxon trusts a +foreigner usually when there is a woman in the case. + +"The Secret Service!" exclaimed Constance. "I have just had a visit +from a private detective employed by one of the consulates. They know +too much. He has threatened to tell all to the Secret Service, has even +had the effrontery to ask me to betray you." + +"The scoundrel," burst out Santos impulsively. + +"You are not frightened?" Gordon asked quickly. + +"On the contrary, I expected something of the sort soon, but not from +this man. I can meet him!" + +"Good," exclaimed the Captain. + +There was that in his voice that caused her to look at him quickly. +Santos had noticed it, too, and a sullen scowl spread over his face. + +Intuitively Constance read the two men before her. She had fled from +one problem to a greater. Both Santos and Gordon were in love with her. + +In the whirl of this new discovery, two things alone crowded all else +from her mind. She must contrive to hold off Drummond until that part +of the expedition which was ready could be got off. And she must play +the jealous rivals against each other with such finesse as to keep them +separated. + +Far into the night after she had left the Junta she debated the +question with herself. She could not turn back now. The attentions of +Gordon were offensive. Yet she could have given no other reason than +that she liked Santos the better. Yet what was Santos to her, after +all? Once she had let herself go too far. She must be careful in this +case. She must not allow this to be other than a business proposition. + +The crisis for her came sooner than she had anticipated. It was the day +after the visit of Drummond. She was waiting at the Junta alone for +Santos when Gordon entered. She had dreaded just that. There was no +mistaking the man. + +"Mrs. Dunlap," began Gordon bending down close over her. + +She was almost trembling with emotion, and he saw it. + +"You can read me like a book," he hurried on, mistaking her feelings. +"I can see that you know how much I think of you--how much I--" + +"No, no," she implored. "Don't talk to me that way. Remember--there is +work to do. After it is over--then--" + +"Work!" he scorned. "What is the whole of Central America to me +compared to you?" + +"Captain Gordon!" she stood facing him. "You must not. Listen to me. +You do not know--I--please, please leave me. Let me think." + +She did not dare accept him; she could not reject him. It seemed that +with an almost superhuman effort Gordon gripped himself. But he did not +go. + +Constance was distracted, what if Santos with his fiery nature should +find Gordon talking to her alone? She must temporize. + +"One week," she murmured. "When the _Arroyo_ sails--that night--I shall +give you my answer." + +Gordon shot a peculiar glance at her--half doubt, half surprise. But +she was gone. As she hurried unexpectedly out of the Junta she fancied +she caught a glimpse of a familiar figure. It must have been Drummond. +Every move at the Junta was being watched. + +At the boarding house all night she waited. She must see Santos. Plan +after plan whirled through her brain as the hours dragged. + +It was not until almost morning that, seeing a light, he tapped +cautiously at her door. + +"You were not at the Junta to-night," he remarked. + +There was something of jealousy in the tone. + +"No. There is something I wanted to say to you where we should not be +interrupted," she answered as he sat down. + +A fold of her filmy house dress fluttered near him. Involuntarily he +moved closer. His eyes met hers. She could feel the passions surging in +the man beside her. + +"I saw Drummond again, to-day," she began. "Captain Gordon--" + +The intense look of hatred that blazed in the eyes of Santos frightened +her. What might have happened if he instead of Gordon had met her at +the Junta she could not have said. But now she must guard against it. +It flashed over her that there was only one thing to be done. + +She rose and laid her hand on his arm. As quickly the look changed. +There was only one way to do it; she must make this man think they +understood each other without saying so. + +"You must get the counterfeiting plant down on the +island--immediately--alone. Don't tell any of the others until it is +there safely. You were going to send it down on the _Arroyo_ next week. +It must not go from New York at all. It must be shipped by rail, and +then from New Orleans. You must--" + +"But--Gordon?" His voice was hoarse. + +She looked at Santos long and earnestly. "I will take care of him," she +said in a tone that Santos could not mistake. "No--Ramon, no. After the +revolution--perhaps--who shall say? But now--to work!" + +It was with a sigh of relief that she sank to rest at last when he had +gone. For the moment she had won. + +Piece by piece, Santos and she secretly carried out the goods that had +already been collected at the Junta, during the next few days. Without +a word to a soul they were shipped south. The boxes and barrels +remained in the musty shop, apparently undisturbed. + +Next the order for the arms and ammunition was quietly diverted so that +they, too, were on their way to New Orleans. Instead, cases resembling +them were sent to the Junta headquarters. Drummond, least of all, must +be allowed to think that there was any change in their plans. + +While Santos was at work gathering the parts, the stamping machine, the +press, the dies, the plates, and the rest of the counterfeiting plant +which had not yet been delivered, Constance, during the hours that she +was not collecting money from the concession-grabbers, haunted the +Junta. There was every evidence of activity there as the week advanced. + +She was between two fires, yet never had she enjoyed the tang of +adventure more than now. It was a keen pleasure to feel that she was +outwitting Drummond when, as some apparently insurmountable difficulty +arose, she would overcome it. More delicate was it, however, to +preserve the balance between Santos and Gordon. In fact it seemed that +the more she sought to avoid Gordon, the more jealously did he pursue +her. It was a tangled skein of romance and intrigue that Constance was +weaving. + +At last all was ready. It was the night before the departure of Santos +for the south. Constance had decided on the last interview in her own +rooms where the first had been. + +"I shall go ahead preparing as if to ship the things on the _Arroyo_," +she said. "Let me know by the code the moment you are ready." + +Santos was looking at her, oblivious of everything else. + +He reached over and took her hand. She knew this was the moment against +which she had steeled herself. + +"Come with me," he asked suddenly. + +She could feel his breath, hotly, on her cheek. + +It was the final struggle. If she let go of herself, all would be lost. + +"No, Ramon," she said softly, but without withdrawing her hand. "It can +never be--listen." + +It was terrific, to hold in check a nature such as his. + +"I went into this scheme for--for money. I have it. We have raised +nearly forty thousand dollars. Twenty thousand you have given me as my +share." + +She paused. He was paying no attention to her words. His whole self was +centered on her face. + +"With me," she continued, half wearily withdrawing her hand as she +assumed the part she had decided on for herself, "with me, Ramon, love +is dead--dead. I have seen too much of the world. Nothing has any +fascination for me now except excitement, money--" + +He gently leaned over and recovered the hand that she had withdrawn. +Quickly he raised it to his lips as he had done that first night. + +"You are mine," he whispered, "not his." + +She did not withdraw the hand this time. + +"No--not his--nobody's." + +For a moment the adventurers understood each other. + +"Not his," he muttered fiercely as he threw his arms about her wildly, +passionately. + +"Nobody's," she panted as she gave one answering caress, then struggled +from him. + +She had conquered not only Ramon Santos but Constance Dunlap. + +Early the next morning he was speeding southward over the clicking +rails. + +Every energy must be bent toward keeping the new scheme secret until it +was carried out successfully. Not a hint must get to Drummond that +there was any change in the activities of the Junta. As for the Junta +itself, there was no one of those who believed implicitly in Santos +whom Constance need fear, except Gordon. Gordon was the bete noire. + +Two days passed and she was able to guard the secret, as well as to act +as though nothing had happened. Santos had left a short note for the +Junta telling them that he would be away for a short time putting the +finishing touches on the purchase of the arms. The arrival of a +cartload of cases at the Junta, which Constance arranged for herself, +bore out the letter. Still, she waited anxiously for word from him. + +The day set for the sailing of the _Arroyo_ arrived and with it at last +a telegram: "Buy corn, oats, wheat. Sell cotton." + +It was the code, telling of the safe arrival of the rifles, cartridges +and the counterfeiting plant in New Orleans, a little late, but safe. +"Sell cotton," meant "I sail to-night." + +On the way over to the Junta, she had noticed one of Drummond's shadows +dogging her. She must do anything to keep the secret until that night. + +She hurried into the dusty ship chandlery. There was Gordon. + +"Good morning, Mrs. Dunlap," he cried. "You are just the person I am +looking for. Where is Santos? Has the plan been changed?" + +Constance thought she detected a shade of jealousy in the tone. At any +rate, Gordon was more attentive than ever. + +"I think he is in Bridgeport," she replied as casually as she could. +"Your ship, you know, sails to-night. He has sent word to me to give +orders that all the goods here at the Junta be ready to cart over by +truck to Brooklyn. There has been no change. The papers are to be +signed during the day and she is to be scheduled to sail late in the +afternoon with the tide. Only, as you know, some pretext must delay +you. You will hold her at the pier for us. He trusts all that to you as +a master hand at framing such excuses that seem plausible." + +Gordon leaned over closer to her. He was positively revolting to her in +the role of admirer. But she must not offend him--yet. + +"And my answer!" he asked. + +There was something about him that made Constance almost draw away +involuntarily. + +"To-night--at the pier," she murmured forcing a smile. + +Shortly after dark the teams started their lumbering way across the +city and the bridge. Messengers, stationed on the way, were to report +the safe progress of the trucks to Brooklyn. + +Constance slipped away from the boardinghouse, down through the +deserted streets to the waterfront, leaving word at home that any +message was to be sent by a trusty boy to the pier. + +It was a foggy and misty night on the water, an ideal night for the +gun-runner. She was relieved to learn that there had been not a hitch +so far. Still, she reasoned, that was natural. Drummond, even if he had +not been outwitted, would scarcely have spoiled the game until the last +moment. + +On the _Arroyo_ every one was chafing. Below decks, the engineer and +his assistants were seeing that the machinery was in perfect order. Men +in the streets were posted to give Gordon warning of any danger. + +In the river a tug was watching for a possible police boat. On the +wharf the only footfalls were those of Gordon himself and an assistant +from the Junta. It was dreary waiting, and Constance drew her coat more +closely around her, as she shivered in the night wind and tried to +brace herself against the unexpected. + +At last the welcome muffled rumble of heavily laden carts disturbed the +midnight silence of the street leading to the river. + +At once a score of men sprang from the hold of the ship, as if by +magic. One by one the cases were loaded. The men were working +feverishly by the light of battle lanterns--big lamps with reflectors +so placed as to throw the light exactly where it was needed and nowhere +else. They were taking aboard the _Arroyo_ dozens of coffin-like wooden +cases, and bags and boxes, smaller and even heavier. Silently and +swiftly they toiled. + +It was risky work, too, at night and in the tense haste. There was a +muttered exclamation--a heavy case had dropped! a man had gone down +with a broken leg. + +It was a common thing with the gun-runners. The crew of the _Arroyo_ +had expected it. The victim of such an accident could not be sent to a +hospital ashore. He was carried, as gently as the rough hands could +carry anything, to one side, where he lay silently waiting for the +ship's surgeon who had been engaged for just such an emergency. +Constance bent over and made the poor fellow as comfortable as she +could. There was never a whimper from him, but he looked his gratitude. + +Scarcely a fraction of a minute had been lost. The last cases were now +being loaded. The tug crawled up and made fast. Already the empty +trucks were vanishing in the misty darkness, one by one, as muffled as +they came. + +Suddenly lights flashed through the fog on the river. + +There was a hurried tread of feet on the land from around the corner of +a bleak, forbidding black warehouse. + +They were surrounded. On one side was the police boat Patrol. On the +other was Drummond. With both was the Secret Service. The surprise was +complete. + +Constance turned to Gordon. He was gone. + +Before she could move, some one seized her. + +"Where's Santos?" demanded a hoarse voice in her ear. She looked up to +see Drummond. + +She shut her lips tightly, secure in the secret that Ramon was at the +moment or soon would be on the Gulf, out of reach. + +Across in the fog she strained her eyes. Was that the familiar figure +of Gordon moving in the dim light? + +There he was, now,--with Drummond, the police, and the Secret Service. +It was exactly as she had suspected to herself, and a smile played over +her face. + +All was excitement, shouts, muttered imprecations. Constance was the +calmest in the crowd--deaf to even Drummond's "third degree." + +They had begun to break open the boxes marked "salt" and "corn." + +A loud exclamation above the sharp crunching of the axes escaped +Gordon. "Damn them! They've put one across on us!" + +The boxes of "salt" and "corn" contained--salt and corn. + +Not a stock of a rifle, not a barrel, not a cartridge was in any of +them as the axes crashed in one case after another. + +A boy with a telegram emerged indiscreetly from the misty shadows. +Drummond seized it, tore it open, and read, "Buy cotton." + +It was the code: "I am off safely." + +The double cross had worked. Constance was thinking, as she smiled to +herself, of the money, her share, which she had hidden. There was not a +scrap of tangible evidence against her, except what Santos had carried +with him in the filibustering expedition already off from New Orleans. +Her word would stand against that of all of the victims combined before +any jury that could be empaneled. + +"You thought I needed a warning," she cried, facing Drummond with eyes +that flashed scorn at the skulking figure of Gordon behind him. "But +the next time you employ a stool-pigeon to make love," she added, +"reckon in that thing you detectives scorn--a woman's intuition." + + + + +CHAPTER IV + +THE GAMBLERS + + +"Won't you come over to see me to-night? Just a friendly little game, +my dear--our own crowd, you know." + +There was something in the purring tone of the invitation of the woman +across the hall from Constance Dunlap's apartment that aroused her +curiosity. + +"Thank you. I believe I will," answered Constance. "It's lonely in a +big city without friends." + +"Indeed it is," agreed Bella LeMar. "I've been watching you for some +time and wondering how you stand it. Now be sure to come, won't you?" + +"I shall be glad to do so," assured Constance, as they reached their +floor and parted at the elevator door. + +She had been watching the other woman, too, although she had said +nothing about it. + +"A friendly little game," repeated Constance to herself. "That sounds +as if it had the tang of an adventure in it. I'll go." + +The Mayfair Arms, in which she had taken a modest suite of rooms, was a +rather recherche apartment, and one of her chief delights since she had +been there had been in watching the other occupants. + +There had been much to interest her in the menage across the hall. Mrs. +Bella LeMar, as she called herself, was of a type rather common in the +city, an attractive widow on the safe side of forty, well-groomed, +often daringly gowned. Her brown eyes snapped vivacity, and the pert +little nose and racy expression of the mouth confirmed the general +impression that Mrs. LeMar liked the good things of life. + +Quite naturally, Constance observed, her neighbor had hosts of friends +who often came early and stayed late, friends who seemed to exude, as +it were, an air of prosperity and high living. Clearly, she was a woman +to cultivate. Constance felt even more interest in her, now that Mrs. +LeMar had pursued a bowing acquaintance to the point of an unsolicited +invitation. + +"A friendly little game," she speculated. "What IS the game?" + + That night found Constance at the buzzer beside the heavy mahogany +door across the hall. She wore a new evening gown of warm red. Her face +glowed with heightened color, and her nerves were on the qui vive for +the unlocking at last of the mystery of the fascinating Mrs. LeMar. + +"So glad to see you, my dear," smiled Bella, holding out her hand +engagingly. "You are just in time." + +Already several of the guests had arrived. There was an air of bonhomie +as Bella presented them to Constance--a stocky, red-faced man with a +wide chest and narrow waist, Ross Watson; a tall, sloping-shouldered +man who inclined his head forward earnestly when he talked to a lady +and spoke with animation, Haddon Halsey; and a fair-haired, baby-blue +eyed little woman gowned in becoming pink, Mrs. Lansing Noble. + +"Now we're all here--just enough for a game," remarked Bella in a +business-like tone. "Oh, I beg pardon--you play, Mrs. Dunlap?" she +added to Constance. + +"Oh, yes," Constance replied. "Almost anything--a little bit." + +She had already noted that the chief object in the room, after all, +appeared to be a round table. About it the guests seemed naturally to +take their places. + +"What shall it be to-night--bridge?" asked Watson, nonchalantly +fingering a little pack of gilt-edged cards which Bella had produced. + +"Oh, no," cried Mrs. Noble. "Bridge is such a bore." + +"Rum?" + +"No--no. The regular game--poker." + +"A dollar limit?" + +"Oh, make it five," drawled Halsey impatiently. + +Watson said nothing, but Bella patted Halsey's hand in approval, as if +all were on very good terms indeed. "I think that will make a nice +little game," she cut in, opening a drawer from which she took out a +box of blue, red and white chips of real ivory. Watson seemed naturally +to assume the role of banker. + +"Aren't you going to join us?" asked Constance. + +"Oh, I seldom play. You know, I'm too busy entertaining you people," +excused Bella, as she bustled out of the room, reappearing a few +minutes later with the maid and a tray of slender hollow-stemmed +glasses with a bottle wrapped in a white napkin in a pail of ice. + + Mrs. Noble shuffled the cards with practiced hand and Watson kept a +calculating eye on every face. Luck was not with Constance on the first +deal and she dropped out. + +Mrs. Noble and Halsey were betting eagerly. Watson was coolly following +along until the show-down--which he won. + +"Of all things," exclaimed the little woman in pink, plainly betraying +her vexation at losing. "Will luck never turn?" + +Halsey said nothing. + +Constance watched in amazement. This was no "friendly little game." The +faces were too tense, too hectic. The play was too high, and the desire +to win too great. Mrs. LeMar was something more than a gracious hostess +in her solicitude for her guests. + +All the time the pile of chips in front of Watson kept building up. At +each new deal a white chip was placed in a little box--the kitty--for +the "cards and refreshments." + +It was in reality one of the new style gambling joints for men and +women. + +The gay parties of callers on Mrs. LeMar were nothing other than +gamblers. The old gambling dens of the icebox doors and steel gratings, +of white-coated servants and free food and drink, had passed away with +"reform." Here was a remarkable new phase of sporting life which had +gradually taken its place. + +Constance had been looking about curiously in the meantime. On a table +she saw copies of the newspapers which published full accounts of the +races, something that looked like a racing sheet, and a telephone +conveniently located near writing materials. It was a poolroom, too, +then, in the daytime, she reasoned. + +Surely, in the next room, when the light was on, she saw what looked +like a miniature roulette wheel, not one of the elaborate affairs of +bright metal and ebony, but one of those that can almost be packed into +a suitcase and carried about easily. + +That was the secret of the flashily dressed men and women who called on +Bella LeMar. They were risking everything, perhaps even honor itself, +on a turn of a wheel, the fall of a card, a guess on a horse. + +Why had Bella LeMar invited her here? she asked herself. + +At first Constance was a little bit afraid that she might have plunged +into too deep water. She made up her mind to quit when her losses +reached a certain nominal point. But they did not reach it. Perhaps the +gamblers were too clever. But Constance seemed always to keep just a +little bit ahead of the game. + +One person in particular in the group interested her as she endeavored +intuitively to take their measure. It was Haddon Halsey, immaculately +garbed, with all those little touches of smartness which women like to +see. + +Once she caught Halsey looking intently at her. Was it he who was +letting her win at his expense! Or was his attention to her causing him +to neglect his own game and play it poorly? + +She decided to quit. She was a few dollars ahead. For excuse she +pleaded a headache. + +Bella accepted the excuse with a cordial nod and a kind inquiry whether +she might not like to lie down. + +"No, thank you," murmured Constance. "But the cards make me nervous +to-night. Just let me sit here. I'll be all right in a minute." + +As she lolled back on a divan near the players Constance noted, or +thought she noted, now and then exchanges of looks between Bella and +Watson. What was the bond of intimacy between them? She noted on Mrs. +Noble's part that she was keenly alive to everything that Halsey did. +It was a peculiar quadrangle. + +Halsey was losing heavily in his efforts to retrieve his fortunes. He +said nothing, but accepted the losses grimly. Mrs. Noble, however, +after each successive loss seemed more and more nervous. + +At last, with a hasty look at her wrist watch, she gave a little +suppressed scream. + +"How the time flies!" she cried. "Who would have thought it as late as +that? Really I must go. I expect my husband back from a director's +meeting at ten, and it's much easier to be home than to have to think +up an excuse. No, Haddon, don't disturb yourself. I shall get a cab at +the door. Let me see--two hundred and twenty-eight dollars." She paused +as if the loss staggered her. "I'll have to sign another I O U for it, +Bella. There!" + +She left in a flutter, as if some one had winked out the light by which +she, poor little butterfly, had singed her wings, and there was nothing +for her but to fly away alone in the darkness with her secret. + +Halsey accompanied her to the door. For a moment she raised a +questioning face to his, and shot a half covert glance at Constance. +Then, as if with an effort, adhering to her first resolution to go +alone, she whispered earnestly, "I hope you win. Luck MUST turn." + +Halsey plunged back into the game, now with Bella holding a hand. He +played recklessly, then conservatively. It made no difference. The +cards seemed always against him. Constance began really to feel alarmed +at his manner. + +Once, however, he chanced to look up at her. Something in her face must +have impressed him. Turning, he flung down the cards in disgust. +"That's enough for to-night," he exclaimed, rising and draining another +glass on the tray. + +"Luck will come your way soon again," urged Bella. "It all averages up +in the end, you know. It has to." + +"How did you enjoy the evening!" insinuated Bella. + +"Very much," replied Constance enthusiastically. "It is so exciting, +you know." + +"You must come again when more of my friends are here." + +"I should like to. But to-night was very nice." + +Halsey looked at her contemplatively. She had risen to go. As she took +a step or two toward the door, still facing them, she found Halsey at +her side. + +"Shall we go over to Jack's for a bite to eat?" he whispered. + +There was as much of appeal in his undertone as of invitation. + +"Thank you. I shall be glad to go," Constance assented quickly. + +There was something about Haddon Halsey that interested her. Perhaps +Bella and Watson exchanged a knowing glance as she crossed the hall for +her wraps. Whatever it was, Constance determined to see the thing +through to a finish, confident that she was quite able to take care of +herself. + +Outside the raw night air smote dankly on their fevered faces. As they +walked along briskly, too glad to get into the open to summon a car, +Constance happened to turn. She had an uncomfortable feeling. She could +have sworn some one was following them. She said nothing about a figure +a few feet behind them. + +The lively, all-night restaurant was thronged. Halsey seemed to throw +himself into the gayety with reckless abandon, ordering about twice as +much as they could eat and drink. But in spite of the fascination of +the scene, Constance could not forget the dark figure skulking behind +them in the shadow of the street. + +Once she looked up. At another table she could just catch a glimpse of +Drummond, of the Burr Detective Agency, alone, oblivious. + +Never did he look at them. There was nothing to indicate that he was +even interested. But Constance knew that that was the method of his +shadowing. Never for a moment, she knew, did he permit himself to look +into the eyes of his quarry, even for the most fleeting glance. + +She knew, too, that there must be some psychological reason for his not +looking at them, as he otherwise must have done, if only by chance. It +was the method followed by the expert modern trailer. She knew that if +one looks at a person intently while in a public place, for instance, +it will not be long before the gaze will be returned. Try as she would, +she could not catch Drummond's eye, however. + +Halsey, now that the strain of the game was off, was rattling along +about his losses in an undertone to her. + +"But what of it?" he concluded. "Any day luck may change. As for +myself, I go always on the assumption that I am the one +exception--unlucky both at cards and love. If the event proves I am +right, I am not disappointed. If I am wrong, then I am happy." + +There was something in the tone of the whimsicality that alarmed her. +It covered a desperation which she felt instinctively. + +Why was he talking thus to her, almost a stranger? Surely it could not +have been for that that Bella LeMar had brought them together. + +Gradually it came to her. The man had really, honestly been struck by +her from the moment of their introduction. Instead of allowing others, +to say nothing of himself, to lead her on in the path he and Mrs. Noble +and the others had entered, he was taking the bit in his teeth, like a +high-strung race horse, and was running away, now that Bella LeMar for +the moment did not hold the reins. He was warning her openly against +the game! + +Somehow the action appealed to Constance. It was genuine, +disinterested. Secretly, it was flattering. Still, she said nothing +about Bella, nor about Mrs. Noble. Halsey seemed to appreciate the +fact. His face showed plainly as if he had said it that here, at least, +was one woman who was not always talking about others. + +There had been a rapid-fire suddenness about his confidences which had +fascinated her. + +"Are you in business?" she ventured. + +"Oh, yes," he laughed grimly. "I'm in business--treasurer of the +Exporting & Manufacturing Company." + +"But," she pursued, looking him frankly in the face, "I should think +you'd be afraid to--er--become involved--" + +"I know I am being watched," he broke in impatiently. "You see, I'm +bonded, and the bonding companies keep a pretty sharp lookout on your +habits. Oh, the crash will come some day. Until it does--let us make +the most of it--while it lasts." + +He said the words bitterly. Constance was confirmed in her original +suspicion of him now. Halsey was getting deeper and deeper into the +moral quagmire. She had seen his interest in Mrs. Noble. Had Bella +LeMar hoped that she, too, would play will-o '-the-wisp in leading him +on? + +Over the still half-eaten supper she watched Halsey keenly. A thousand +questions about himself, about Mrs. Noble, rushed through her mind. +Should she be perfectly frank? + +"Are you--are you using the company's money!" she asked at length +pointedly. + +He had not expected the question, and his evident intention was to deny +it. But he met her eye. He tried to escape it, but could not. What was +there about this little woman that had compelled his attention and +interest from the moment he had been introduced? + +Quickly he tried to reason it out in his heart. It was not that she was +physically attractive to him. Mrs. Noble was that. It was not that +fascination which Bella aroused, the adventuress, the siren, the +gorgon. In Constance there was something different. She was a woman of +the world, a man's woman. Then, too, she was so brutally frank in +inviting his confidences. + +Over and over he turned the answer he had intended to make. He caught +her eye again and knew that it was of no use. + +"Yes," he muttered, as a cloud spread over his face at not being able, +as usual, to let the gay life put the truth out of his mind. "Yes, I +have been using--their funds." + +As if a switch had been turned, the light broke on Constance. She saw +herself face to face with one of the dark shadows in the great city of +high lights. + +"How?" she asked simply, leaning forward over the table. + +There was no resisting her. Quickly he told her all. + +"At first with what little money of my own I had I played. Then I began +to sign I O U's and notes. Now I have been taking blank stock +certificates, some of those held as treasury stock in the company's +safe. They have never been issued, so that by writing in the signatures +of myself and the other officers necessary, I have been able to use it +to pay off my losses in gambling." + +As he unfolded to her the plan which he had adopted, Constance listened +in amazement. + +"And you know that you are watched," she repeated, changing the +subject, and sensing rather than seeing that Drummond was watching them +then. + +"Yes," he continued freely. "The International Surety, in which I'm +bonded, has a sort of secret service of its own, I understand. It is +the eye that is never closed, but is screened from the man under bond. +When you go into the Broadway night life too often, for instance," he +pursued, waving his hand about at the gay tables, "run around in fast +motors with faster company--well, they know it. Who is watching, I do +not know. But with me it will be as it has been when others came to the +end. Some day they will come to me, and they are going to say, 'We +don't like your conduct. Where do you get this money?' They will know, +then, too. But before that time comes I want to win, to be in a +position to tell them to go--" + +Halsey clenched his fist. It was evident that he did not intend to +quit, no matter what the odds against him. + +Constance thought of the silent figure of Drummond at the other +table--watching, watching. She felt sure that it was to him that the +Surety Company had turned over the work of shadowing Halsey. Day after +day, probably, the unobtrusive detective had been trailing Halsey from +the moment he left his apartment until the time when he returned, if he +did return. There was nothing of his goings and comings that was not +already an open book to them. Of what use was it, then, for Halsey to +fight! + +It was a situation such as she delighted in. She had made up her mind. +She would help Haddon Halsey to beat the law. + +Already it seemed as if he knew that their positions had been reversed. +He had started to warn her; she now was saving him. + +Yet even then he showed the better side of his nature. + +"There is some one else, Mrs. Dunlap," he remarked earnestly, "who +needs your help even more than I do." + +It had cost him something to say that. He had not been able to accept +her help, even under false pretenses. Eagerly he watched to see whether +jealousy of the other woman played any part with her. + +"I understand," she said with a hasty glance at her watch and a covert +look at Drummond. "Let us go. If we are to win we must keep our heads +clear. I shall see you to-morrow." + +For hours during the rest of the night Constance tossed fitfully in +half sleep, thinking over the problem she had assumed. + +How was she to get at the inside truth of what was going on across the +hall? That was the first question. + +In her perplexity, she rose and looked out of the window at the now +lightening gray of the courtyard. There dangled the LeMar telephone +wire, only a few feet from her own window. + +Suddenly an idea flashed over her. In her leisure she had read much and +thought more. She recalled having heard of a machine that just fitted +her needs. + +As soon as she was likely to find places of business open Constance +started out on her search. It was early in the forenoon before she +returned, successful. The machine which she had had in mind proved to +be an oak box, perhaps eighteen inches long, by half the width, and a +foot deep. On its face it bore a little dial. Inside there appeared a +fine wire on a spool which unwound gradually by clockwork, and, after +passing through a peculiar small arrangement, was wound up on another +spool. Flexible silk-covered copper wires led from the box. + +Carefully Constance reached across the dizzy intervening space, and +drew in the slack LeMar telephone wires. With every care she cut into +them as if she were making an extension, and attached the wires from +the box. + +Perhaps half an hour later the door buzzer sounded. Constance could +scarcely restrain her surprise as Mrs. Lansing Noble stepped in quickly +and shut the door herself. + +"I don't want her to know I'm here," she whispered, nodding across the +hall. + +"Won't you take off your things?" asked Constance cordially. + +"No, I can't stay," returned her visitor nervously, pausing. + +Constance wondered why she had come. Was she, too, trying to warn a +newcomer against the place! + +She said nothing, but now that the effort had been made and the little +woman had gone actually so far, she felt the reaction. She sank down +into an easy chair and rested her pretty head on her delicately gloved +hand. + +"Oh, Mrs. Dunlap," she began convulsively, "I hope you will pardon an +entire stranger for breaking in on you so informally--but--but I +can't--I can't help it. I must tell some one." + +Accustomed as she was now to strange confidences, Constance bent over +and patted the little hand of Mrs. Noble comfortingly. + +"You seemed to take it so coolly," went on the other woman. "For me the +glamour, the excitement are worse than champagne. But you could stop, +even when you were winning. Oh, my God! What am I to do? What will +happen when my husband finds out what I have done!" + +Tearfully, the little woman poured out the sordid story of her +fascination for the game, of her losses, of the pawning of her jewels +to pay her losses and keep them secret, if only for a few days, until +that mythical time when luck would change. + +"When I started," she blurted out with a bitter little laugh, "I +thought I'd make a little pin money. That's how I began--with that and +the excitement. And now this is the end." + +She had risen and was pacing the floor wildly. + +"Mrs. Dunlap," she cried, pausing before Constance, "to-day I am +nothing more nor less than a 'capper,' as they call it, for a gambling +resort." + +She was almost hysterical. The contrast with the gay, respectable, +prosperous-looking woman at Bella's was appalling. Constance realized +to the full what were the tragedies that were enacted elsewhere. + +As she looked at the despairing woman, she could reconstruct the +terrible situation. Cultivated, well-bred, fashionably gowned, a woman +like Mrs. Noble served admirably the purpose of luring men on. If there +had been only women or only men involved, it perhaps would not have +been so bad. But there were both. Constance saw that men were wanted, +men who could afford to lose not hundreds, but thousands, men who are +always the heaviest players. And so Mrs. Noble and other unfortunate +women no doubt were sent out on Broadway to the cafes and restaurants, +sent out even among those of their own social circle, always to lure +men on, to involve themselves more and more in the web into which they +had flown. Bella had hoped even to use Constance! + +Mrs. Noble had paused again. There was evident sincerity in her as she +looked deeply into the eyes of Constance. + +Nothing but desperation could have wrung her inmost secrets from her to +another woman. + +"I saw them trying to throw you together with Haddon Halsey," she said, +almost tragically. "It was I who introduced Haddon to them. I was to +get a percentage of his losses to pay off my own--but"--her feelings +seemed to overcome her and wildly, desperately, she added--"but I +can't--I can't. I--I must rescue him--I must." + +It was a strange situation. Constance reasoned it out quickly. What a +wreck of life these two were making! Not only they were involved, but +others who as yet knew nothing, Mrs. Noble's husband, the family of +Halsey. She must help. + +"Mrs. Noble," said Constance calmly, "can you trust me?" + +She shot a quick glance at Constance. "Yes," she murmured. + +"Then to-night visit Mrs. LeMar as though nothing had happened. +Meanwhile I will have thought out a plan." + +It was late in the afternoon when Constance saw Halsey again, this time +in his office, where he had been waiting impatiently for some word from +her. The relief at seeing her showed only too plainly on his face. + +"This inaction is killing me," he remarked huskily. "Has anything +happened to-day!" + +She said nothing about the visit of Mrs. Noble. Perhaps it was better +that each should not know yet that the other was worried. + +"Yes," she replied, "much has happened. I cannot tell you now. But +to-night let us all go again as though nothing had occurred." + +"They have twenty-five thousand dollars in stock certificates already +which I have given them," he remarked anxiously. + +"Some way--any way, you must get them back for a time. Let me see some +of the blanks." + +Halsey shut the door. From a secret drawer of his desk he drew a +package of beautifully engraved paper. + +Constance looked at it a moment. Then with a fountain pen, across the +front of each, she made a few marks. Halsey looked on eagerly. As she +handed them back to him, not a sign showed on any part of them. + +"You must tell them that there is something wrong with the others, that +you will give them other certificates of your own about which there is +no question. Tell them anything to get them back. Here--take this other +fountain pen, sign the new certificates with that, in their presence so +that they will suspect nothing. To-night I shall expect you to play up +to the limit, to play into Mrs. Noble's hand and assume her losses, +too. I shall meet you there at nine."' + +Constance had laid her plans quickly. That night she waited in her own +apartment until she heard Halsey enter across the hall. She had +determined to give him plenty of time to obtain the old forged +certificates and substitute for them the new forgeries. + +Perhaps half an hour later she heard Mrs. Noble enter. As Constance +followed her in, the effusive greeting of Bella LeMar showed that as +yet she suspected nothing. A quick glance at Halsey brought an +answering nod and an unconscious motion toward his pocket where he had +stuffed the old certificates carelessly. + +A moment later they had plunged into the game. The play that night was +spirited. Soon the limit was the roof. + +From the start things seemed to run against Halsey and Mrs. Noble even +worse than before. At the same time fortune seemed to favor Constance. +Again and again she won, until even Watson seemed to think there was +something uncanny about it. + +"Beginner's luck," remarked Bella with a forced laugh. + +Still Constance won, not much, but steadily, though not enough to +offset the larger winnings of Watson. + +Fast and furious became the play and as steadily did it go against +Halsey. Mrs. Noble retired, scarcely repressing the tears. Constance +dropped out. Only Halsey and Watson remained, fighting as if it were a +duel to the death. + +"Please stop, Halsey," pleaded Mrs. Noble. "What is the use of tempting +fortune?" + +An insane half light seemed to glow in his eyes as, with a quick glance +at Constance and a covert nod of approval from her, he forced a smile +and playfully laid his finger on Mrs. Noble's lips. + +"Double or quits, Watson," he cried. "Return the new certificates or +take others for twice the amount. Are you game?" + +"I'm on," agreed Watson coolly. + +Halsey laid down his hand in triumph. There were four kings. + +"I win," ground out Watson viciously, as he tossed down four aces. + +Constance was on her feet in a moment. + +"You are a lot of cheats and swindlers," she cried, seizing the cards +before any one could interfere. + +Deftly she laid out the four aces beside the four deuces, the four +kings beside the four queens. It was done so quickly that even Halsey, +in his amazement, could find nothing to say. Mrs. Noble paled and was +speechless. As for Bella and Watson, nothing could have aroused them +more than the open charge that they were using false devices. + +Yet never for a moment did Watson lose his iron cynicism. + +"Prove it," he demanded. "As for Mr. Halsey, he may pay or I'll show +the stock I already hold to the proper people." + +Constance was facing Watson, as calm as he. + +"Show it," she said quietly. + +There was a knock at the door. + +"Don't let any one in," ordered Bella of the maid, who had already +opened the door. + +A man's foot had been inserted into the opening. "What's the matter, +Chloe?" + +"Good Lawd, Mis' Bella--we done been raided!" burst out the maid as the +door flew wholly open. + +Halsey staggered back. "A detective!" he exclaimed. + +"Oh, what shall I do!" wailed Mrs. Noble. "My husband will never +forgive me if this becomes known." + +Bella was as calm as a good player with a royal straight flush. + +"I've caught you at last," fairly hissed Drummond. "And you, too, Mrs. +Dunlap. Watson, I overheard something about some stock. Let me see it. +I think it will interest International Surety as well as Exporters and +Manufacturers." + +Through the still open door Constance had darted across the hall to her +apartment. + +"Not so fast," cried Drummond. "You can't escape. The front door is +guarded. You can't get out." + +She was gone, but a moment later emerged from the darkness of her +rooms, carrying the oak box. + +As she set it down on the card table, no one said a word. Deliberately +she opened the box, disclosing two spools of wire inside. To the +machine she attached several head pieces such as a telephone operator +wears. She turned a switch and the wire began to unroll from one spool +and wind up on the other again. + +A voice, or rather voices, seemed to come from the box itself. It was +uncanny. + +"Hello, is this Mrs. LeMar?" came from it. + +"What is it?" whispered Halsey, as if fearful of being overheard. + +"A telegraphone," replied Constance, shutting it off for a moment. + +"A telegraphone? What is that?" + +"A machine for registering telephone conversations, dictation, anything +of the sort you wish. It was invented by Valdemar Poulsen, the Danish +Edison. This is one of his new wire machines. The record is made by a +new process, localized charges of magnetism on this wire. It is as +permanent as the wire itself. There is only one thing that can destroy +them--rubbing over the wire with this magnet. Listen." + +She had started the machine again. Whose voice was it calling Bella? +Constance was looking fixedly at Drummond. He shifted uneasily. + +"How much is he in for now?" pursued the voice. + +Halsey gasped. It was Drummond's own voice. + +"Two hundred and fifty shares," replied Bella's voice. + +"Good. Keep at him. Don't lose him. To-night I'll drop in." + +"And your client will make good?" she anxiously. + +"Absolutely. We will pay five thousand dollars for the evidence that +will convict him." + +Constance's little audience was stunned. But she did not let the +telegraphone pause. Skipping some unimportant calls, she began again. + +This was a call from Bella to Watson. + +"Ross, that fellow Drummond called up to-day." + +"Yes?" + +"He is going to pull it off to-night. His client will make good--five +thousand if they catch Halsey with the goods. How about it?" + +"Pretty soft--eh, Bella?" came back from Watson. + +"My God! it's a plant!" exclaimed Halsey, staggering and dropping +heavily into a chair. "I'm ruined. There is no way out!" + +"Wait," interrupted Constance. "Here's another call. It may serve to +explain why luck was with me to-night. I came prepared." + +"Yes, Mrs. LeMar," came another strange voice from the machine. "We'd +do anything for Mr. Watson. What is it--a pack of strippers?" + +"Yes. The aces stripped from the ends, the kings from the sides." + +The group looked eagerly at Constance. + +"From the maker of fake gambling apparatus, I find," she explained, +shutting off the machine. "They were ordering from him cards cut or +trimmed so that certain ones could be readily drawn from the deck, or +'stripped.' Small wedge-shaped strips are trimmed off the edges of all +the other cards, leaving the aces, say, projecting just the most minute +fraction of an inch beyond the others. Everything is done carefully. +The rounded edges at the corners are recut to look right. When the +cards are shuffled the aces protrude a trifle over the edges of the +other cards. It is a simple matter for the dealer to draw or strip out +as many aces as he wants, stack them on the bottom of the pack as he +shuffles the cards, and draw them from the bottom whenever he wants +them. Strippers are one of the newest things in swindling. Marked cards +are out of date. But some decks have the aces stripped from the ends, +the kings from the sides. With this pack, as you can see, a sucker can +be dealt out the kings, while the house player gets the aces." + +Drummond brazened it out. With a muttered oath he turned to Watson +again. "What rot is this? The stock, Watson," he repeated. "Where is +that stock I heard them talking about?" + +Mrs. Noble, forgetting all now but Halsey, paled. Bella LeMar was +fumbling at her gold mesh bag. She gave a sudden, suppressed little +scream. + +"Look!" she cried. "They are blank--those stock certificates he gave +me." + +Drummond seized them roughly from her hands. + +Where the signatures should have been there was nothing at all! + +Across the face of the stock were the words in deep black, "SAMPLE +CERTIFICATE," written in an angular, feminine hand. + +What did it mean? Halsey was as amazed as any of them. Mechanically he +turned to Constance. + +"I didn't say anything last night," she remarked incisively. "But I had +my suspicions from the first. I always look out for the purry kind of +'my dear' woman. They have claws. Last night I watched. To-day I +learned--learned that you, Mr. Drummond, were nothing but a +blackmailer, using these gamblers to do your dirty work. Haddon, they +would have thrown you out like a squeezed lemon as soon as the money +you had was gone. They would have taken the bribe that Drummond offered +for the stock--and they would have left you nothing but jail. I learned +all that over the telegraphone. I learned their methods and, knowing +them, even I could not be prevented from winning to-night." + +Halsey moved as if to speak. "But," he asked eagerly, "the stock +certificates--what of them!" + +"The stock?" she answered with deliberation. "Did you ever hear that +writing in quinoline will appear blue, but will soon fade away, while +other writing in silver nitrate and ammonia, invisible at first, after +a few hours appears black? You wrote on those certificates in +sympathetic ink that fades, I in ink that comes up soon." + +Mrs. Noble was crying softly to herself. They still had her notes for +thousands. + +Halsey saw her. Instantly he forgot his own case. What was to be done +about her? He telegraphed a mute appeal to Constance, forgetful of +himself now. Constance was fingering the switch of the telegraphone. + +"Drummond," remarked Constance significantly, as though other secrets +might still be contained in the marvelous little mechanical detective, +"Drummond, don't you think, for the sake of your own reputation as a +detective, it might be as well to keep this thing quiet?" + +For a moment the detective gripped his wrath and seemed to consider the +damaging record of his conversation with Bella LeMar. + +"Perhaps," he agreed sullenly. + +Constance reached into her chatelaine. From it she drew an ordinary +magnet, and slowly pulled off the armature. + +"If I run this over the wires," she hinted, holding it near the spools, +"the record will be wiped out." She paused impressively. "Let me have +those I O U's of Mrs. Noble's. By the way, you might as well give me +that blank stock, too. There is no use in that, now." + +As she laid the papers in a pile on the table before her she added the +old forged certificates from Halsey's pocket. There it lay, the +incriminating, ruining evidence. + +Deliberately she passed the magnet over the thin steel wire, wiping out +what it had recorded, as if the recording angel were blotting out from +the book of life. + +"Try it, Drummond," she cried, dropping on her knees before the open +fireplace. "You will find the wire a blank." + +There was a hot, sudden blaze as the pile of papers from the table +flared up. + +"There," she exclaimed. "These gambling debts were not even debts of +honor. If you will call a cab, Haddon, I have reserved a table at +Jade's for you and Mrs. Noble. It is a farewell. Drummond will not +occupy his place in the corner to-night. But--after it--you are to +forget--both of you--forever. You understand?" + + + + +CHAPTER V + +THE EAVESDROPPERS + + +"I suppose you have heard something about the troubles of the Motor +Trust? The other directors, you know, are trying to force me out." + +Rodman Brainard, president of the big Motor Corporation, searched the +magnetic depths of the big brown eyes of the woman beside his desk. +Talking to Constance Dunlap was not like talking to other women he had +known, either socially or in business. + +"A friend of yours, and of mine," he added frankly, "has told me enough +about you to convince me that you are more than an amateur at getting +people out of tight places. I asked you to call because I think you can +help me." + +There was a directness about Brainard which Constance liked. + +"It's very kind of you to place such confidence in me--on such short +acquaintance," she returned pointedly, searching his face. + +Brainard laughed. + +"I don't need to tell you, Mrs. Dunlap, that anything I have said so +far is an open secret in Wall Street. They have threatened to drag in +the Sherman law, and in the reorganization that will follow the +investigation, they plan to eliminate Rodman Brainard--perhaps set in +motion the criminal clauses of the law. It's nothing, Mrs. Dunlap, but +a downright hypocritical pose. They reverse the usual process. It is +doing good that evil may result." + +He watched her face intently. Something in her expression seemed to +please him. "By George," he thought to himself, "this is a man's woman. +You can talk to her." + +Brainard, accustomed to quick decisions, added aloud, "Just now they +are using Mrs. Brainard as a catspaw. They are spreading that scandal +about my acquaintance with Blanche Leblanc, the actress. You have seen +her? A stunning woman--wonderful. But I long ago saw that such a +friendship could lead to nothing but ruin." He met Constance's eye +squarely. There was nothing of the adventuress in it as there had been +in Blanche Leblanc. "And," he finished, almost biting off the words, "I +decided to cut it out." + +"How does Blanche Leblanc figure in the Motor Trust trouble?" asked +Constance keenly. + +"They had been shadowing me a long time before I knew it, ferreting +back into my past. Yesterday I learned that some one had broken into +Miss Leblanc's apartments and had stolen a package of letters which I +wrote to her. It can't hurt her. People expect that sort of thing of an +actress. But it can hurt the president of the Motor Trust--just at +present." + +"Who has been doing the shadowing?" + +"Worthington, the treasurer, is the guiding spirit of the 'insurgents' +as they call themselves--it sounds popular, like reform. I understand +they have had a detective named Drummond working for them." + +Constance raised her eyes quickly at the name. "Was Drummond always to +cross her trail? + +"This story of the letters," he went on, "puts on the finishing touch. +They have me all right on that. I can tell by the way that Sybil--er, +Mrs. Brainard--acts, that she has read and reread those letters. But, +by God," he concluded, bringing down his fist on the desk, "I shall +fight to the end, and when I go down,"--he emphasized each word with an +additional blow,--"the crash will bring down the whole damned structure +on their own heads, too." + +He was too earnest even to apologize to her. Constance studied the grim +determination in the man's face. He was not one of those destined to +fail. + +"All is not lost that is in peril, Mr. Brainard," she remarked quietly. +"That's one of the maxims of your own Wall Street." + +"What would you do?" he asked. It was not an appeal; rather it was an +invitation. + +"I can't say, yet. Let me come into the office of the Trust. Can't I be +your private secretary?" + +"Consider yourself engaged. Name your figure--after it is over. My +record on the Streets speaks for how I stand by those who stand by me. +But I hate a quitter." + +"So do I," exclaimed Constance, rising and giving him her hand in a +straight-arm shake that made Brainard straighten himself and look down +into her face with unconcealed admiration. + +The next morning Constance became private secretary to the president of +the Motor Trust. + +"You will be 'Miss' Dunlap," remarked Brainard. "It sounds more +plausible." + +Quietly he arranged her duties so that she would seem to be very busy +without having anything which really interfered with the purpose of her +presence. + +She had been thinking rapidly. Late in the forenoon she reached a +decision. A little errand uptown kept her longer than she expected, but +by the late afternoon she was back again at her desk, on which rested a +small package which had been delivered by messenger for her. + +"I beg you won't think as badly of me as it seems on the surface, Miss +Dunlap," remarked Brainard, stopping beside her desk. + +"I don't think badly of you," she answered in a low voice. "You are not +the only man who has been caught with a crowd of crooks who plan to +leave him holding the bag." + +"Oh, it isn't that," he hastened, "I mean this Blanche Leblanc affair. +May I be frank with you?" + +It was not the first time Constance had been made a confidante of the +troubles of the heart, and yet there was something fascinating about +having a man like Brainard consider her worthy of being trusted with +what meant so much to him. + +"I'm not altogether to blame." he went on slowly. "The estrangement +between my wife and myself came long before that little affair. It +began over--well--over what they call a serious difference in +temperament. You know a man--an ambitious man--needs a partner, a woman +who can use the social position that money gives not alone for pleasure +but as a means of advancing the partnership. I never had that. The more +I advanced, the more I found her becoming a butterfly--and not as +attractive as the other butterflies either. She went one way--I, +another. Oh well--what's the use? I went too far--the wrong way. I must +pay. Only let me save what I can from the wreck." + +It was not Constance, the woman, to whom he was talking. It was +Constance, the secretary. Yet it was the woman, not the secretary, who +listened. + +Brainard stopped again beside her desk. + +"All that is neither here nor there," he remarked, forcing a change in +his manner. "I am in for it. Now, the question is--what are we going to +do about it!" + +Constance had unwrapped the package on her desk, disclosing an oblong +box. + +"What's that?" he asked curiously. + +"Mr. Brainard," she answered tapping the box, "there's no limit to the +use of this little machine for our purposes. We can get at their most +vital secrets with it. We can discover every plan which they have +against us. We may even learn the hiding place of those letters Why, +there is no limit. This is one of those new microphone detectives." + +"A microphone?" he repeated as he opened the box, looked sharply at the +two black little storage batteries inside, the coil of silk-covered +wire, a little black rubber receiver and a curious black disc whose +face was pierced by a circular row of holes. + +"Yes. You must have heard of them. You hide that transmitter behind a +picture or under a table or desk. Then you run the wire out of the room +and by listening in the receiver you can hear everything!" + +"But that is what detectives use--" + +"Well?" she interrupted coolly, "what of it? If it is good for them, is +it not just as good for us?" + +"Better!" he exclaimed. "By George, you ARE the goods." + +It was late before Constance had a chance to do anything with the +microphone. It seemed as if Worthington were staying, perversely, later +than usual. At last, however, he left with a curt nod to her. + +The moment the door was closed she stopped the desultory clicking of +her typewriter with which she had been toying in the appearance of +being busy. With Brainard she entered the board room where she had +noticed Worthington and Sheppard often during the day. + +It was, without exaggeration, one of the most plainly furnished rooms +she had ever seen. A long mahogany table with eight large mahogany +chairs, a half inch pile of velvety rug on the floor and a huge +chandelier in the middle of the ceiling constituted the furniture. Not +a picture, not a cabinet or filing case broke the blankness of the +brown painted walls. + +For a moment she stopped to consider. Brainard waited and watched her +narrowly. + +"There isn't a place to put this transmitter except up above that +chandelier," she said at length. + +He gave her his hand as she stepped on a chair and then on the table. +There was a glimpse of a trim ankle. The warmth and softness of her +touch caused him to hold her hand just a moment longer than was +absolutely necessary. A moment later he was standing on the table +beside her. + +"This is the place, all right," she said, looking at the thick scum of +dust on the top of the reflector. + +Quickly she placed the little black disc close to the center on the top +of the reflector. "Can you see that from the floor?" she asked. + +"No," he answered, walking about the room, "not a sign of it." + +"I'll sit here," she said in just a tremor of excitement over the +adventure, "and listen while you talk in the board room." + +Brainard entered. It seemed ridiculous for him to talk to himself. + +"If the microphone works," he said at length, "rap on the desk twice." +Then he added, half laughing to himself, "If it doesn't, rap +once--Constance." + +A single rap came in answer. + +"If you couldn't hear," he smiled entering her office, "why did you rap +once!" + +"It didn't work smoothly on that last word." + +"What--Constance?" + +He thought there was a subtle change in their relations since the +microphone incident. At any rate she was not angry. Were they not +partners? + +"I think it will be better if I turn that microphone around," she +remarked. "I placed it face downwards. Let me change it." + +Again he helped her as she jumped up on the board room table. This time +his hand lingered a little longer in hers and she did not withdraw it +so soon. When she did there was a quick twinkle in her eyes as she +straightened the microphone and offered her hand to him again. + +"Jump!" he said, as if daring her. + +A moment she paused. "I never could take a dare," she answered. + +She leaped lightly to the floor. For just a moment she seemed about to +lose her balance. Then she felt an arm steadying her. He had caught her +and for an instant their eyes met. + +"Well, Rodman--I scarcely thought it was as brazen as this!" + +They turned in surprise. + +Mrs. Brainard was standing in the doorway. + +She was a petite blonde little woman of the deceptive age which the +beauty parlors convey to thousands of their assiduous patrons. + +For a moment she looked coldly from one to the other. + +"To what am I indebted for the pleasure of this unexpected visit, +Sybil?" asked Brainard with sarcastic emphasis. "I shall finish those +letters to-morrow, Miss Dunlap. You need not wait for them." + +He held the door to his own office open for Mrs. Brainard. + +Sybil Brainard shot a quick glance at Constance. "Well, young lady," +she said haughtily, "do you realize what you are doing and with whom +you are?" + +"It isn't necessary, Sybil, to bother about Miss Dunlap. The lights +were out of order and I found Miss Dunlap standing on the table trying +to fix them. You came just in time to see her jump down. By the way, +Worthington seems to be another who works late. He left only a few +minutes ago." + +Constance passed a restless night. To have got wrong at the very start +worried her. Over and over she thought of what had happened. And always +she came back to one question. What had Brainard meant by that +reference to Worthington? + +He came in late the next day, however. Still, there was no change in +his manner as he greeted her. The incident had not affected him, as it +had her. Neither of them said anything about it. + +A young man had been waiting to see Brainard and as he entered he asked +him in. + +Just then Sheppard walked casually through the reception room and into +the board room. + +Constance quickly closed her door. She heard the young man leave +Brainard's office but she was too engrossed to pay attention to +anything but the voices that were coming through the microphone. She +was writing feverishly what she heard. + +"Yes, Sheppard, I saw her again last night." + +"Where?" + +"She was to meet me here, but he stayed later than usual with that new +secretary of his. So I cut out and met her at the street entrance." + +"And?" + +"I told her of the new secretary. She did just what I wanted--came up +here--and, say Sheppard--what do you think? They were in this room and +he had his arms about her!" + +"The letters are all right, are they? How much did you have to pay the +Leblanc girl?" + +"Twenty thousand. That's all charged up against the pool. Say, Leblanc +is--well--give you my word, Sheppard--I can hardly blame Brainard after +all." + +"You ARE the last word in woman haters, Lee." + +Both men laughed. + +"And the letters?" + +"Don't worry. They are where they'll do the most good. Sybil has them +herself. Now, what have you to report? You saw the district attorney?" + +"Yes. He is ready to promise us all immunity if we will go on the stand +for the state. The criminal business will come later. Only, you have to +play him carefully. He's on the level. A breath of what we really want +and it will be all off." + +"Then we'll have to hold the stock up, as though nothing was going to +happen." + +They had left the board room. + +Constance hurried into Brainard's office. He was sunk deep in his chair +reading some papers. + +"What's the matter?" she asked. + +"She has entered a suit for divorce. That young man was a process +server." + +"Yes." + +"You are named as co-respondent along with Blanche Leblanc." + +"I?" + +"Yes. It must have been an afterthought. Everything is going--fortune, +reputation--even your friendship, now, Constance--" + +"Going? Not yet." + +She read hastily what she had overheard. + +"Devil take Worthington," ground out Brainard, gripping the arms of his +chair. "For weeks I have suspected him. They have been too clever for +me. Constance, while I have been going around laying myself open to +discovery, Sybil has played a cool and careful game." + +He was pacing the floor. + +"So--that's the plan. Hold back, keep the stock up until they get +started. Then let it go down until I'm forced to sell out at a loss, +buy it back cheap, and control the reorganization. Well, I haven't +control now, alone. I wish I did have. But neither have they. The +public owns the stock now. I need it. Who'll get it first--that's the +question!" + +He was thinking rapidly. + +"If you could do a little bear manipulation yourself," she suggested. +"That might get the public scared. You could get enough to control, +perhaps, then. They wouldn't dare sell--or if they did they would +weaken their own control. Either way, you get them, going or coming." + +"Exactly what I was thinking. Play their own game--ahead of +them--accelerate it." + +It was just after the lunch hour that Constance resumed her place at +her desk with the receiver at her ear. + +There were voices again in the board room. + +"My God, Sheppard, what do you think? Someone is selling Motors--five +points off and still going down." + +"Who is it? What shall we do?" + +"Who! Brainard, of course. Some one has peached. What are you going to +do?" + +"Wait. Let's call up the News Agency. Hello--yes--what? Unofficial +rumor of prosecution of Motors by the government--large selling orders +placed in advance. The deuce--say, we'll have to meet this or--" + +"Meet nothing. It's Brainard. He's going down in a big crash. We pour +our money into his pockets now and let him sell at the top and grab +back control with OUR money? Not much. I sell, too." + +Already boys were on the street with extras crying the great crash in +Motors. It was only a matter of minutes before all the news reading +public were thoroughly scared at the apparently bursting bubble. Shares +were dug up in small lots, in huge blocks and slammed on the market for +what they would bring. All day the pounding went on. Thousands of +shares were poured out until Motors which had been climbing toward par +in the neighborhood of 79 had declined forty points. Brainard had +jumped in first and had realized the top price for his holdings. + +Yet during all the wild scenes when the telephone was ringing +insistently for him, Brainard, having set the machinery in motion and +having been ostentatiously in the office when it started in order to +avert suspicion, could not now be found. + +The market had closed and Constance was reading the account of the +collapse as it was interpreted in the Wall Street editions of the +papers, when the door opened and Brainard entered. + +"This has been a good day's work, Constance," he said, flinging himself +into a chair. + +"Yes, I was just reading of it in the papers. The little microphone has +put an entirely new twist on affairs. And the best of it is that the +financial writers all seem to think it was planned by Worthington and +the rest." + +"Oh, hang Worthington--hang Motors. THAT is what I meant." + +He slapped down a packet of letters on the desk. + +"You--you found them?" gasped Constance. She looked at him keenly. It +was evident that a great weight had been taken off his mind. + +"Yes indeed. I knew there was only one place where she would put +them--in her safe with her jewels. She would think I would never +suspect that she had them and, besides, she had the combination +changed. I went up to the house this afternoon when she was out. I had +an expert with me. He worked two hours, steady,--but he opened it. Here +they are. Now for the real game." + +"What do you mean?" + +"I mean that I noticed the name of the manufacturer on your microphone. +I have had one installed in the room which she uses most of all. The +wires run to the next house where I've hired an apartment. I intend to +'listen in' there. I'll get this Worthington--yet!" + +That night Constance and Brainard sat for hours in the empty apartment +patiently waiting for word over the microphone. + +At last there was a noise as of a door opening. + +"Show them in here." + +"Sybil," whispered Brainard as if perhaps she might even hear. + +Then came more voices. + +"Worthington and Drummond," he added. "They suspect nothing yet." + +"Drummond knows this Dunlap woman," said Worthington. + +The detective launched forth in a tirade against Constance. + +"But she is clever, Drummond. You admit that." + +"Clever as they make 'em." + +"You will have her shadowed?" + +"Every moment, Mrs. Brainard." + +"What's all this about the panic in Motors, Lee?" + +"Some other time, Sybil, not now. Drummond, what do people say?" + +Drummond hesitated. + +"Out with it, man." + +"Well, Mr. Worthington, it is said you started it." + +"The deuce I did. But I guess Sheppard and I helped it along. We'll go +the limit, too. After all, it had to come. We'll load up after it +reaches the bottom." + +The voices trailed off. + +"Good night, Mrs. Brainard." + +"Good night, Mr. Drummond. That was what I wanted to know." A pause. + +"Lee, how can I ever thank you?" + +A sound suspiciously like a kiss came over the wire. Brainard clenched +his fist. + +"Good night, Sybil. I must go now--" Again the voices trailed off. + +It was several minutes before Brainard spoke. Then it was that he +showed his wonderful power of concentration. + +"I have a conference in half an hour, Constance," he remarked, looking +at his watch. "It is very important. It means getting money to support +Motors on the opening to-morrow after I have gathered in again what I +need. I think I can come pretty near doubling my holdings if I play it +right. That's important. But so is this." + +"I will listen," put in Constance. "Trust me. If anything else occurs I +will tell you." + +She was at the office early the next day, but not before Brainard who, +bright and fresh, even though he had been up all night, was primed for +the battle of his life at the opening of the market. + +Brainard had swung in at the turn and had quietly accumulated the stock +control which he needed. He was now bulling the market by matching +orders, pyramiding stock which he owned, using every device that was +known to his astute brain. + +On up went Motors, recovering the forty points, gradually, and even +going beyond in the reaction. Worthington and Sheppard had been +squeezed out. Not for a moment did he let up. + +As the clock on Trinity church struck three, the closing hour, Brainard +wheeled suddenly in his chair. + +"Miss Dunlap," he said quietly. "I wish that you would tell Worthington +and Sheppard that I should like to see them in the board room at four." + +Constance looked at her watch. There was time also to execute a little +scheme of her own. + +Four o'clock came. Brainard lounged casually across to the board room. +Instantly Constance had the receiver of the microphone at her ear, +straining to catch every word, and to make notes of the stormy scene, +if necessary. + +Her door opened. It was Sybil Brainard. + +The two women looked at each other coldly. + +Constance was the first to speak. + +"Mrs. Brainard," she began, "I asked you to come down here--not Mr. +Worthington. More than that, I asked the office boy to direct you here +instead of to his office. Do you see that machine?" + +Sybil looked at it without a sign of recognition. + +"It is a microphone detective. It was the installing of that machine in +the board room which you interrupted the other night." + +"Was it necessary that Mr. Brainard should put his arm around you for +that?" inquired Mrs. Brainard with biting sarcasm. + +"I had just jumped down from the table and had almost lost my +balance--that was all," pursued Constance imperturbably. + +"Another of these microphone eavesdroppers told me of a conversation +last night in your own apartment, Mrs. Brainard." + +Her face blanched. "You--have one--there?" + +"Yes. Mr. Brainard heard the first conversation, when Drummond and Mr. +Worthington were there. After they left he had to attend a conference +himself. I alone heard what passed when Mr. Worthington returned." + +"You are at liberty to--" + +"Mrs. Brainard. You do not understand. I have no reason to want to make +you--" + +An office boy tapped on the door and entered. "Mr. Brainard wants you, +Miss Dunlap." + +"I cannot explain now," resumed Constance. "Won't you sit here at my +desk and listen over the microphone to what happens!" + +She was gone before Mrs. Brainard could reply. What did it all mean? +Sybil put the black disc receiver to her ear as she had seen Constance +do. Her hand trembled. "Why did she tell me that?" she murmured. + +"You can't prove it," shouted a voice through the black disc at her +ear. She was startled. It was the voice of Worthington. + +"Miss Dunlap--have you that notebook?" came the deep tones of her +husband. + +Constance read from her first notes that part relating to the +conspiracy to control Motors, carefully omitting the part about the +Leblanc letters. + +"It's a lie--a lie." + +"No, it is not a lie. It is all good legal evidence, the record taken +over the new microphone detective. Look up there over the chandelier, +Worthington. The other end is in the top drawer of Miss Dunlap's desk." + +"I'll fight that to a finish, Brainard. You are clever but there are +other things besides Motors that you have to answer for." + +"No. Those letters--that is what you mean--are in my possession now. +You didn't know that? All the eavesdropping, if you choose to call it +that, was not done here, either, by a long shot, Worthington. I had one +of these machines in my wife's reception room. I have all sorts of +little scraps of conversation," he boasted. "I also have an account of +a visit there from two--er--scoundrels--" + +"Mrs. Brainard to see you, sir," announced a boy at the door. + +Constance had risen. Her face was flushed and her breast rose and fell +with excitement. + +"Mr. Brainard," she interrupted. "I must explain--confess. Mrs. +Brainard has been sitting in my office listening to us over the +microphone. I arranged it. I asked her to come down, using another name +as a pretext. But I didn't think she would interrupt so soon. Before +you see her--let me read this. It was a conversation I got after you +had left last night and so far I have had no chance to tell you of it. +Some one," she laid particular stress on the word, "came back after +that first interview. Listen." + +"No, Lee," Constance read rapidly from her notes, "no. Don't think I am +ungrateful. You have been one friend in a thousand through all this. I +shall have my decree-soon, now. Don't spoil it-" + +"But Sybil, think of Mm. What did he ever care for you! He has made you +free already." + +"He is still my husband." + +"Take this latest escapade with this Miss Dunlap." + +"Well, what do I really know about that?" + +"You saw him." + +"Yes, but maybe it was as he said." + +The door was flung open, interrupting Constance's reading, and Sybil +Brainard entered. The artificiality of the beauty parlor was all gone. +She was a woman, who had been wronged and deceived. + +"Next friend--a true next friend--fiend would be better, Lee +Worthington," she scorned. "How can you stand there and look me in the +face, how could you tell me of your love for me, when all the time you +cared no more for me or for any other woman than for that--that +Leblanc! You knew that I, who was as jealous as I could be of Rodman, +had heard a little--you added more. Yet when you had played on my +feelings, you would have cast me off, too--I know it; I know your kind." + +She paused for breath, then turned slowly to Brainard with a note of +pathos in her voice. + +"Our temperaments may have been different, Rodman. They were not when +we were poor. Perhaps I have not developed with you, the way you want +of me. But, Rodman, did you ever stop to think that perhaps, perhaps if +I had ever had the chance to be taken into your confidence more often--" + +"Will you--forgive me?" Brainard managed to blurt out. + +"Will you forgive me?" she returned frankly. + +"I--forgive? I have nothing to forgive." + +"I could have understood, Rodman, if it had been Miss Dunlap. She is +clever, wonderful. But that Leblanc--never!" + +Sybil Brainard turned to Constance. + +"Miss Dunlap--Mrs. Dunlap," she sobbed, "forgive me. You--you are a +better woman than I am." + + + + +CHAPTER VI + +THE CLAIRVOYANTS + + +"Do you believe in dreams?" Constance Dunlap looked searchingly at her +interrogator, as if her face or manner betrayed some new side of her +character. + +Mrs. deForest Caswell was an attractive woman verging on forty, a +chance acquaintance at a shoppers' tea room downtown who had proved to +be an uptown neighbor. + +"I have had some rather strange experiences, Mildred," confessed +Constance tentatively. "Why!" + +"Because--" the other woman hesitated, then added, "why should I not +tell you! Last night, Constance, I had the strangest dream. It has left +such an impression on me that I can't shake it off, although I have +tried all day." + +"Yes? Tell me about it." + +Mildred Caswell paused a moment, then began slowly, as if not to omit +anything from her story. + +"I dreamt that Forest was dying. I could see him, could see the doctor +and the nurse, everything. And yet somehow I could not get to him. I +was afraid, with such an oppressive fear. I tried--oh, how I tried! I +struggled, and how badly I felt!" and she shuddered at the very +recollection. + +"There seemed to be a wall," she resumed, "a narrow wall in the way and +I couldn't get over it. As often as I tried, I fell. And then I seemed +to be pursued by some kind of animal, half bull, half snake. I ran. It +followed closely. I seemed to see a crowd of people and I felt that if +I could only get to that crowd, somehow I would be safe, perhaps might +even get over the wall and--I woke up--almost screaming." + +The woman's face was quite blanched. + +"My dear," remonstrated Constance, "you must not take it so. +Remember--it was only a dream. + +"I know it was only a dream," she said, "but you don't know what is +back of it." + +Mildred Caswell had from time to time hinted to Constance of the +growing incompatibility of her married life, but as Constance was +getting used to confidences, she had kept silent, knowing that her +friend would tell her in time. + +"You must have guessed," faltered Mrs. Caswell, "that Forest and I are +not--not on the best of terms, that we are getting further and further +apart." + +It rather startled Constance to hear frankly stated what she already +had observed. She wondered how far the estrangement had gone. The fact +was that she had rather liked deForest Caswell, although she had only +met her friend's husband a few times. In fact she was surprised that +momentarily there flashed through her mind the query as to whether +Mildred herself might be altogether blameless in the growing +uncongeniality. + +Mildred Caswell had drawn out of her chatelaine a bit of newspaper and +handed it to Constance, not as if it was of any importance to herself +but as if it would explain better than she could tell what she meant. + +Constance read: + + MME. CASSANDRA, + THE VEILED PROPHETESS + +Born with a double veil, educated in occult mysteries in Egypt and +India. Without asking a question, tells your name and reads your secret +troubles and the remedy. Reads your dreams. Great questions of life +quickly solved. Failure turned to success, the separated brought +together, advice on all affairs of life, love, marriage, divorce, +business, speculation, and investments. Overcomes all evil influences. +Ever ready to help and advise those with capital to find a safe and +paying investment. No fee until it succeeds. Could anything be fairer? + + THE RETREAT, + -- W. 47th Street. + +"Won't you come with me to Madame Cassandra?" asked Mrs. Caswell, as +Constance finished reading. "She always seems to do me so much good." + +"Who is Madame Cassandra?" asked Constance, rereading the last part of +the advertisement. + +"I suppose you would call her a dream doctor," said Mildred. + +It was a new idea to Constance, this of a dream doctor to settle the +affairs of life. Only a moment she hesitated, then she answered simply, +"Yes, I'll go." + +"The retreat" was just off Longacre Square among quite a nest of +fakers. A queue of automobiles before the place testified, however, to +the prosperity of Madame Cassandra, as they entered the bronze grilled +plate glass door and turned on the first floor toward the home of the +Adept. Constance had an uncomfortable feeling as they entered of being +watched behind the shades of the apartment. Still, they had no trouble +in being admitted, and a soft-voiced colored attendant welcomed them. + +The esoteric flat of Madame Cassandra was darkened except for the +electric lights glowing in amber and rose-colored shades. There were +several women there already. As they entered Constance had noticed a +peculiar, dreamy odor. There did not seem to be any hurry, any such +thing as time here, so skilfully was the place run. There was no noise; +the feet sank in half-inch piles of rugs, and easy-chairs and divans +were scattered about. + +Once a puff of light smoke appeared, and Constance awoke to the fact +that some were smoking little delicately gold-banded cigarettes. Indeed +it was all quite recherche. + +Mrs. Caswell took one from a maid. So did Constance, but after a puff +or two managed to put it out and later to secure another which she kept. + +Madame Cassandra herself proved to be a tall, slender, pale woman with +dark hair and a magnetic eye, an eye that probably accounted more than +anything else for her success. She was clad in a house gown of purplish +silk which clung tightly to her, and at her throat a diamond pendant +sparkled, as well as other brilliants on her long, slender fingers. + +She met Mildred and Constance with outstretched hands. + +"So glad to see you, my dears," purred Madame, leading the way into an +inner sanctum. + +Mrs. Caswell had seated herself with the air of one who worshiped at +the shrine, while Constance gazed about curiously. + +"Madame," she began a little tremulously, "I have had another of those +dreadful dreams." + +"You poor dear soul," soothed Madame, stroking her hand. "Tell me of +it--all." + +Quickly Mrs. Caswell poured forth her story as she had already told it +to Constance. + +"My dear Mrs. Caswell," remarked the high priestess slowly, when the +story was complete, "it is all very simple. His love is dead. That is +what you fear and it is the truth. The wall is the wall that he has +erected against you. Try to forget it--to forget him. You would be +better off. There are other things in the world--" + +"Ah, but I cannot live as I am used to without money," murmured Mrs. +Caswell. + +"I know," replied Madame. "It is that that keeps many a woman with a +brute. When financial and economic independence come, then woman will +be free and only then. Now, listen. Would you like to be +free--financially? You remember that delightful Mr. Davies who has been +here? Yes? Well, he is a regular client of mine, now. He is a broker +and never embarks in any enterprise without first consulting me. Just +the other day I read his fortune in United Traction. It has gone up +five points already and will go fifteen more. If you want, I will give +you a card to him. Let me see--yes, I can do that. You too will be +lucky in speculation." + +Constance, with one ear open, had been busy looking about the room. In +a bookcase she saw a number of books and paused to examine their +titles. She was surprised to see among the old style dream books +several works on modern psychology, particularly on the interpretation +of dreams. + +"Of course, Mrs. Caswell, I don't want to urge you," Madame was saying. +"I have only pointed out a way in which you can be independent. And, +you know, Mr. Davies is a perfect gentleman, so courteous and reliable. +I know you will be successful if you take my advice and go to him." + +Mildred said nothing for a few moments, but as she rose to go she +remarked, "Thank you very much. I'll think about it. Anyhow, you've +made me feel better." + +"So kind of you to say it," murmured the Adept. "I'm sorry you must go, +but really I have other appointments. Please come again--with your +friend. Good-bye." + +"What do you think of her?" asked Mrs. Caswell on the street. + +"Very clever," answered Constance dubiously. + +Mrs. Caswell looked up quickly. "You don't like her?" + +"To tell the truth," confessed Constance quietly, "I have had too much +experience in Wall Street myself to trust to a clairvoyant." + +They had scarcely reached the corner before Constance again had that +peculiar feeling which some psychologists have noted, of being stared +at. She turned, but saw no one. Still the feeling persisted. She could +stand it no longer. + +"Don't think me crazy, Mildred," she said, "but I just have a desire to +walk back a block." + +Constance had turned suddenly. As she glanced keenly about she was +aware of a familiar figure gazing into the window of an art store +across the street. He had stopped so that although his back was turned +he could, by a slight shift of his position, still see by means of a +mirror in the window what was going on across the street behind him. + +One look was enough. It was Drummond, the detective. What did it mean? + +Neither woman said much as they rode uptown, and parted on the +respective floors of their apartment house. Still Constance could not +get out of her head the recollection of the dream doctor and of +Drummond. + +Restless, she determined that night to go down to the Public Library +and see whether any of the books at the clairvoyant's were on the +shelves. Fortunately she found some, found indeed that they were not +all, as she had half suspected, the works of fakers but that quite a +literature had been built up around the new psychology of dreams. + +Deeply she delved into the fascinating subjects that had been opened by +the studies of the famous Dr. Sigmund Freud of Vienna, and as she read +she found that she began to understand much about Mrs. Caswell--and, +with a start, about her own self. + +At first she revolted against the unpleasant feature of the new dream +philosophy--the irresistible conclusion that all humanity, underneath +the shell, is sensuous or sensual in nature, that practically all +dreams portray some delight of the senses and that sexual dreams are a +large proportion of all visions. But the more she thought of it, the +more clearly was she able to analyze Mrs. Caswell's dream and to get +back at the causes of it, in the estrangement from her husband and +perhaps the brutality of his ignorance of woman. And then, too, there +was Drummond. What was he doing in the case? + +She did not see Mildred Caswell again until the following afternoon. +But then she seemed unusually bright in contrast with the depression of +the day before. Constance was not surprised. Her intuition told her +that something had happened and she hardly needed to guess that Mrs. +Caswell had followed the advice of the clairvoyant and had been to see +the wonderful Mr. Davies, to whom the mysteries of the stock market +were an open book. + +"Have you had any other dreams?" asked Constance casually. + +"Yes," replied Mildred, "but not like the one that depressed me. Last +night I had a very pleasant dream. It seemed that I was breakfasting +with Mr. Davies. I remember that there was a hot coal fire in the +grate. Then suddenly a messenger came in with news that United Traction +had advanced twenty points. Wasn't it strange?" + +Constance said nothing. In fact it did not seem strange to her at all. +The strange thing to her, now that she was a sort of amateur dream +reader herself, was that Mrs. Caswell did not seem to see the real +import of her own dream. + +"You have seen Mr. Davies to-day?" Constance ventured. + +Mrs. Caswell laughed. "I wasn't going to tell you. You seemed so set +against speculating in Wall Street. But since you ask me, I may as well +admit it." + +"When did you see him before?" went on Constance. "Did you have much +invested with him already?" + +Mrs. Caswell glanced up, startled. "My--you are positively uncanny, +Constance. How did you know I had seen him before?" + +"One seldom dreams," said Constance, "about anything unless it has been +suggested by an event of the day before. You saw him today. That would +not have inspired the dream of last night. Therefore I concluded that +you must have seen him and invested before. Madame Cassandra's mention +of him yesterday caused the dream of last night. The dream of last +night probably influenced you to see him again to-day, and you invested +in United Traction. That is the way dreams work. Probably more of +conduct than we know is influenced by dream life. Now, if you should +get fifteen or twenty points you would be in a fair way to join the +ranks of those who believe that dreams do come true." + +Mrs. Caswell looked at her almost alarmed, then attempted to turn it +off with a laugh, "And perhaps breakfast with him?" + +"When I do set up as interpreter of dreams," answered Constance simply, +"I'll tell you more." + +On one point she had made up her mind. That was to visit Mr. Davies +herself the next day. + +She found his office a typical bucket shop, even down to having a +section partitioned off for women clients of the firm. She had not +intended to risk anything, and so was prepared when Mr. Davies himself +approached her courteously. Instinctively Constance distrusted him. He +was too cordial, too polite. She could feel the claws hidden in his +velvety paw, as it were. There was a debonnaire assurance about him, +the air of a man who thought he understood women, and indeed did +understand a certain type. But to Constance, who was essentially a +man's woman, Davies was only revolting. + +She managed to talk without committing herself, and he in his +complacency was glad to hope that he was making a new customer. She had +to be careful not to betray any of the real and extensive knowledge +about Wall Street which she actually possessed. But the glib +misrepresentations about United Traction quite amazed her. + +When she rose to go, Davies accompanied her to the door, then out into +the hall to the elevator. As he bent over to shake hands, she noted +that he held her hand just a little longer than was necessary. + +"He's a swindler of the first water," she concluded as she was whisked +down in the elevator. "I'm sure Mildred is in badly with this crowd, +one urging her on in her trouble, the other making it worse and +fleecing her into the bargain." + +At the entrance she paused, undecided which was the quickest route +home. As by chance she turned just for a moment she thought she caught +a fleeting glimpse of Drummond dodging behind a pillar. It was only for +an instant but even that apparition was enough. + +"I WILL get her out of this safely," resolved Constance. "I WILL keep +one more fly from his web." + +Constance felt as if, even now, she must see Mildred and, although she +knew nothing, at least put her on her guard. She did not have long to +wait for her chance. It was late in the afternoon when her door buzzer +sounded. + +"Constance, I've been looking for you all day," sighed Mildred, +dropping sobbing into a chair. "I am--distracted." + +"Why, my dear, what's the matter?" asked Constance. "Let me make you a +cup of coffee." + +Over the steaming little cups Mildred grew more calm. + +"Forest has found out in some way that I am speculating in Wall +Street," she confided at length. "I suppose some of his friends--he has +lots down there--told him." + +Momentarily the picture of Drummond back of the post in Davies' +building flashed over Constance. + +"And he is awfully angry. Oh, I never knew him to be so angry--and +sarcastic, too." + +"Was it wholly over your money?" asked Constance. "Was there nothing +else?" + +Mrs. Caswell started. "You grow more weird, every day, Constance. +Yes--there was something else." + +"Mr. Davies?" + +Mildred had risen. "Don't--don't--" she cried. + +"Then you do really--care for him!" asked Constance mercilessly. + +"No--no, a thousand times--no. How can I? I have put all such thoughts +out of my mind--long ago." She paused, then went on more calmly, +"Constance, believe me or not--I am just as good a woman to-day as I +was the day I married Forest. No--I would not even let the thought +enter my head--never!" + +For perhaps an hour after her friend had gone, Constance sat thinking. +What should she do? Something must be done and soon. As she thought, +suddenly the truth flashed over her. + +Caswell had employed Drummond to shadow his wife in the hope that he +might unearth something that might lead to a divorce. Drummond, like so +many divorce detectives, was not averse to guiding events, to put it +mildly. He had ingratiated himself, perhaps, with the clairvoyant and +Davies. Constance had often heard before of clairvoyants and brokers +who worked in conjunction to fleece the credulous. Now another and more +serious element than the loss of money was involved. Added to them was +a divorce detective--and honor itself was at stake. She remembered the +doped cigarettes. She had heard of them before at clairvoyants'. She +saw it all--Madame Cassandra playing on Mildred's wounded affections, +the broker on both that and her desire to be independent--and Drummond +pulling the wires that all might take advantage of her woman's frailty. + +That moment Constance determined on action. + +First she telephoned to deForest Caswell at his office. It was an +unconventional thing to do to ask him to call, but she made some +plausible pretext. She was surprised to find that he accepted it +without hesitating. It set her thinking. Drummond must have told him +something of her and he had thought this as good a time as any to face +her. In that case Drummond would probably come too. She was prepared. + +She had intended to have one last talk with Mildred, but had no need to +call her. Utterly wretched, the poor little woman came in again to see +her as she had done scores of times before, to pour out her heart. +Forest had not come home to dinner, had not even taken the trouble to +telephone. Constance did not say that she herself was responsible. + +"Do you really want to know the truth about your dreams?" asked +Constance, after she had prevailed upon Mildred to eat a little. + +"I do know," she returned. + +"No, you don't," went on Constance, now determined to tell her the +truth whether she liked it or not. "That clairvoyant and Mr. Davies are +in league, playing you for a sucker, as they say." + +Mrs. Caswell did not reply for a moment. Then she drew a long breath +and shut her eyes. "Oh, you don't know how true what she says is to me. +She--" + +"Listen," interrupted Constance. "Mildred, I'm going to be frank, +brutally frank. Madame Cassandra has read your character, not the +character as you think it is, but your unconscious, subconscious self. +She knows that there is no better way to enter into the intimate life +of a client, according to the new psychology, than by getting at and +analyzing the dreams. And she knows that you can't go far in dream +analysis without finding sex. It is one of the strongest natural +impulses, yet subject to the strongest repression, and hence one of the +weakest points of our culture. + +"She is actually helping along your alienation for that broker. You +yourself have given me the clue in your dreams. Only I am telling you +the truth about them. She holds it back and tells you plausible +falsehoods to help her own ends. She is trying to arouse in you those +passions which you have suppressed, and she has not scrupled to use +drugged cigarettes with you and others to do it. You remember the +breakfast dream, when I said that much could be traced back to dreams? +A thing happens. It causes a dream. That in turn sometimes causes +action. No, don't interrupt. Let me finish first. + +"Take that first dream," continued Constance, rapidly thrusting home +her interpretation so that it would have its full effect. "You dreamed +that your husband was dying and you were afraid. She said it meant love +was dead. It did not. The fact is that neurotic fear in a woman has its +origin in repressed, unsatisfied love, love which for one reason or +another is turned away from its object and has not succeeded in being +applied. Then his death. That simply means that you have a feeling that +you might be happier if he were away and didn't devil you. It is a +survival of childhood, when death is synonymous with absence. I know +you don't believe it. But if you had studied the subject as I have in +the last few days you'd understand. Madame Cassandra understands. + +"And the wall. That was Wall Street, probably, which does divide you +two. You tried to get over it and you fell. That means your fear of +actually falling, morally, of being a fallen woman." + +Mildred was staring wildly. She might deny but in her heart she must +admit. + +"The thing that pursued you, half bull, half snake, was Davies and his +blandishments. I have seen him. I know what he is. The crowd in a dream +always denotes a secret. He is pursuing you, as in the dream. But he +hasn't caught you. He thinks there is in you the same wild demimondaine +instinct that with many an ardent woman, slumbers unknown in the back +of her mind. + +"Whatever you may say, you do think of him. When a woman dreams of +breakfasting cozily with some one other than her husband it has an +obvious meaning. As for the messenger and the message about the United +Traction, there, too, was a plain wish, and, as you must see, wishes in +one form or another, disguised or distorted, lie at the basis of +dreams. Take the coal fire. That, too, is susceptible of +interpretation. I think you must have heard the couplet: + +"'No coal, no fire so hotly glows As the secret love that no one +knows.'" + +Mildred Caswell had risen, an indignant flush on her face. + +Constance put her hand on her arm gently to restrain her, knowing that +such indignation was the first sign that she had struck at the core of +truth in her interpretation. + +"My dear," she urged, "I'm only telling you the truth, for your own +sake, and not to take advantage of you as Madame Cassandra is doing. +Please--remember that the best evidence of your normal condition is +just what I find, that absence of love would be abnormal. My dear, you +are what the psychologists call a consciously frigid, unconsciously +passionate woman. Consciously you reject this Davies; unconsciously you +accept him. And it is the more dangerous, although you do not know it, +because some one else is watching. It was not one of his friends who +told your husband--" + +Mrs. Caswell had paled. "Is--is there a--detective?" she faltered. + +Constance nodded. + +Mildred had collapsed completely. She was sobbing in a chair, her head +bowed in her hands, her little lace handkerchief soaked. "What shall I +do? What shall I do?" + +There was a sudden tap at the door. + +"Quick--in there," whispered Constance, shoving her through the +portieres into the drawing room. + +It was Forest Caswell. + +For a moment Constance stood irresolute, wondering just how to meet +him, then she said, "Good evening, Mr. Caswell. I hope you will pardon +me for asking you to call on me, but, as you know, I've come to know +your wife--perhaps better than you do." + +"Not better," he corrected, seeming to see that it was directness that +she was aiming at. "It is bad enough to get mixed up badly in Wall +Street, but what would you yourself say--you are a business woman--what +would you say about getting into the clutches of a--a dream doctor--and +worse?" + +He had put Constance on the defensive in a sentence. + +"Don't you ever dream?" she asked quietly. + +He looked at her a moment as if doubting even her mentality. + +"Lord," he exclaimed in disgust, "you, too, defend it?" + +"But, don't you dream?" she persisted. + +"Why, of course I dream," he answered somewhat petulantly. "What of it? +I don't guide my actions by it." + +"Do you ever dream of Mildred?" she asked. + +"Sometimes," he admitted reluctantly. + +"Ever of other--er--people?" she pursued. + +"Yes," he replied, "sometimes of other people. But what has that to do +with it? I cannot help my dreams. My conduct I can help and I do help." + +Constance had not expected him to be frank to the extent of taking her +into his confidence. Still, she felt that he had told her just enough. +She discerned a vague sense of jealousy in his tone which told her more +than words that whatever he might have said or done to Mildred he +resented, unconsciously, the manner in which she had striven to gain +sympathy outside. + +"Fortunately he knows nothing of the new theories," she said to herself. + +"Mrs. Dunlap," he resumed, "since you have been frank with me, I must +be equally frank with you. I think you are far too sensible a woman not +to understand in just what a peculiar position my wife has placed me." + +He had taken out of his pocket a few sheets of closely typewritten +tissue paper. He did not look at them. Evidently he knew the contents +by heart. Constance did not need to be told that this was a sheaf of +the daily reports of the agency for which Drummond worked. + +He paused. She had been watching him searchingly. She was determined +not to let him justify himself first. + +"Mr. Caswell," she persisted in a low, earnest tone, "don't be so sure +that there is nothing in this dream, business. Before you read me those +reports from Mr. Drummond, let me finish." + +Forest Caswell almost dropped them in surprise. + +"Dreams," she continued, seeing her advantage, "are wishes, either +suppressed or expressed. Sometimes the dream is frank and shows an +expressed wish. Other times it shows a suppressed wish, or a wish which +in its fulfilment in the dream is disguised or distorted. + +"You are the cause of your wife's dreams. She feels in them anxiety. +And, according to the modern psychologists who have studied dreams +carefully and scientifically, fear and anxiety represent love repressed +or suppressed." + +She paused to emphasize the point, glad to note that he was following +her. + +"That clairvoyant," she went on, "has found out the truth. True, it may +not have been the part of wisdom for Mildred to have gone to her in the +first place. I pass over that. I do not know whether you or she was +most to blame at the start. But that woman, in the guise of being her +friend, has played on every string of your wife's lonely heart, which +you have wrung until it vibrates. + +"Then," she hastened on, "came your precious friend Drummond, Drummond +who has, no doubt, told you a pack of lies about me. You see that!" + +She had flung down on the table a cigarette which she had managed to +get at Madame Cassandra's. + +"Smoke it." + +He lighted it gingerly, took a puff or two, puckered his face, frowned, +and rubbed the lighted end on the fireplace to extinguish it. + +"What is it?" he asked suspiciously. + +"Hashish," she answered tersely. "Things were not going fast enough to +suit either Madame Cassandra or Drummond. Madame Cassandra helped along +the dreams by a drug noted for its effect on the passions. More than +that," added Constance, leaning over toward him and catching his eye, +"Madame Cassandra was working in league with a broker, as so many of +the fakers do. Drummond knew it, whether he told you the truth about it +or not. That broker was a swindler named Davies." + +She was watching the effect on him. She saw that he had been reserving +this for a last shot at her, that he realized she had stolen his own +ammunition and appropriated it to herself. + +"They were only too glad when Drummond approached them. There you are, +three against that poor little woman--no, four, including yourself. +Perhaps she was foolish. But it was not so much to her discredit as to +those who cast her adrift when she had a natural right to protection. +Here was a woman with passions which she herself did not understand, +and a little money--alone. Her case appealed to me. I knew her dreams. +I studied them." + +Caswell was listening in amazement. "It is dangerous to be with a +person who pays attention to such little things," he said. + +Evidently Drummond himself must have been listening. The door buzzer +sounded and he stepped in, perhaps to bolster up his client in case he +should be weakening. + +As he met Constance's eye he smiled superciliously and was about to +speak. But she did not give him time even to say good evening. + +"Ask him," she cried, her eyes flashing, for she realized that it had +been part of the plan to confront her, perhaps worm out of her just +enough to confirm Drummond's own story to Caswell, "ask him to tell the +truth--if he is capable of it--not the truth that will make a good +daily report of a hired shadow who colors his report the way he thinks +his client desires it, but the real truth." + +"Mr. Caswell," interrupted Drummond, "this woman----" + +"Mr. Drummond," cried Constance, rising and shaking the burnt stub of +the little gold-banded cigarette at him to impress it on his mind, "Mr. +Drummond, I don't care whether I am a--a she-devil"--she almost hissed +the words at him--"but I have evidence enough to go before the district +attorney of this city and the grand jury and get indictments for +conspiracy against a certain clairvoyant and a bucket shop operator. To +save themselves, they will probably tell all they know about a certain +crook who has been using them." + +Caswell looked at her, amazed at her denunciation of the detective. As +for Drummond, he turned his back on her as if to ignore her utterly. + +"Mr. Caswell," he said bitterly, "in those reports--" + +"Forest Caswell," insisted Constance, rising and facing him, "if you +have in that heart of yours one shred of manhood it should move you. +You--this man--the others--have placed in the path of a woman every +provocation, every temptation for financial, physical, and moral ruin. +She has consulted a clairvoyant--yes. She has speculated--yes. Yet she +was proof against something greater than that. And I know--because I +know her unconscious self which her dreams reveal, her inmost soul--I +know her better than you do, better than she does herself. I know that +even now she is as good and true and would be as loving as--" + +Constance had paused and taken a step toward the drawing room. Before +she knew it, the portieres flew apart and an eager little woman had +rushed past her and flung her arms about the neck of the man. + +Caswell's features were working, as he gently disengaged her arms, +still keeping one hand. Half shoving her aside, ignoring Constance, he +had faced Drummond. For a moment the brazen detective flinched. + +As he did so, deForest Caswell crumpled up the mass of tissue paper +reports and flung them into the fireplace. + +"Get out!" he said, suppressing his voice with difficulty. "Send +me--your bill. I'll pay it--but, mind, if it is one penny more than it +should be, I'll--I'll fight if it takes me from the district attorney +and the grand jury to the highest court of the State. Now--go!" + +Caswell turned slowly again toward his wife. + +"I've been a brute," he said simply. + +Something almost akin to jealousy rose in Constance's heart as she saw +Mildred, safe at last. + +Then Caswell turned slowly to her. "You," he said, stroking his wife's +hand gently but looking at Constance, "you are a REAL clairvoyant." + + + + +CHAPTER VII + +THE PLUNGERS + + +"They have the most select clientele in the city here." + +Constance Dunlap was sitting in the white steamy room of Charmant's +Beauty Shop. Her informant, reclining dreamily in a luxurious wicker +chair, bathed in the perspiring vapor, had evidently taken a fancy to +her. + +"And no wonder, either; they fix you up so well," she rattled on; then +confidingly, "Now, last night after the show a party of us went to +supper and a dance--and it was in the wee small hours when we broke up. +But Madame here can make you all over again. Floretta," she called to +an attendant who had entered, "if Mr. Warrington calls up on the +'phone, say I'll call him later." + +"Yes, Miss Larue." + +Constance glanced up quickly as Floretta mentioned the name of the +popular young actress. Stella Larue was a pretty girl on whom the wild +dissipation of the night life of New York was just beginning to show +its effects. The name of Warrington, too, recalled to Constance +instantly some gossip she had heard in Wall Street about the +disagreement in the board of directors of the new Rubber Syndicate and +the effort to oust the president whose escapades were something more +than mere whispers of scandal. + +This was the woman in the case. Constance looked at Stella now with +added interest as she rose languidly, drew her bathrobe about her +superb figure carelessly in such a way as to show it at best advantage. + +"I've had more or less to do with Wall Street myself," observed +Constance. + +"Oh, have you? Isn't that interesting," cried Stella. + +"I hope you're not putting money in Rubber?" queried Constance. + +"On the contrary," rippled Stella, then added, "You're going to stay? +Let me tell you something. Have Floretta do your hair. She's the best +here. Then come around to see me in the dormitory if I'm here when you +are through, won't you?" + +Constance promised and Stella fluttered away like the pretty butterfly +that she was, leaving Constance to wonder at the natural gravitation of +plungers in the money market toward plungers in the white lights. + +Charmant's Beauty Parlor was indeed all its name implied, a temple of +the cult of adornment, the last cry in the effort to satisfy what is +more than health, wealth, and happiness to some women--the fundamental +feminine instinct for beauty. + +Constance had visited the beauty specialist to have an incipient +wrinkle smoothed out. Frankly, it was not vanity. But she had come to +realize that her greatest asset was her personal appearance. Once that +had a chance to work, her native wit and keen ability would carry her +to success. + +Madame Charmant herself was a tall, dark-skinned, dark-haired, +dark-eyed, well-groomed woman who looked as if she had been stamped +from a die for a fashion plate--and then the die had been thrown away. +All others like her were spurious copies, counterfeits. More than that, +she affected the name of Vera, which in itself had the ring of truth. + +And so Charmant had prevailed on Constance to take a full course in +beautification and withhold the wrinkle at the source. + +"Besides, you know, my dear," she purred, "there's nothing discovered +by the greatest minds of the age that we don't apply at once." + +Constance was not impervious to feminine reason, and here she was. + +"Has Miss Larue gone?" she asked when at last she was seated in a +comfortable chair again sipping a little aromatic cup of coffee. + +"No, she's resting in one of the little dressing rooms." + +She followed Floretta down the corridor. Each little compartment had +its neat, plain white enameled bed, a dresser and a chair. + +Stella smiled as Constance entered. "Yes," she murmured in response to +the greeting, "I feel quite myself now." + +"Mr. Warrington on the wire," announced Floretta a moment later, coming +down the corridor again with a telephone on a long unwinding wire. + +"Hello, Alfred--oh, rocky this morning," Constance overheard. "I said +to myself, 'Never again--until the next time. Vera? Oh, she was as +fresh as a lark. Can I lunch with you downtown? Of course.'" Then as +she hung up the receiver she called, "Floretta, get me a taxi." + +"Yes, Miss Larue." + +"I always have a feeling here," whispered Stella, "that I am being +listened to. I mean to speak to Vera about it some time. By the way, +wouldn't you like to join us to-night? Vera will be along and Mr. +Warrington and perhaps 'Diamond Jack' Braden--you know him?" + +Constance confessed frankly that she did not have the pleasure of the +acquaintance of the well-known turfman and first nighter. + +She hesitated. Perhaps it was that that Stella liked. Almost any one +else would have been overeager to accept. But to Constance, sure of +herself now, nothing of the sort was worth scrambling for. Besides, she +was wondering how a man with the fight of his life on his hands could +find time to lunch downtown even with Stella. + +"I've taken quite a fancy to you," pressed Stella. + +"Thank you, it's very kind of you," Constance answered. "I shall try +very hard to be there." + +"I'll leave a box for you at the office. Come around after the +performance to my dressing room." + +"Miss Larue, your taxi's waiting," announced Floretta. + +"Thanks. Are you going now, Mrs. Dunlap? Yes? Then ride down in the +elevator with me." + +They parted at the foot of the elevator and Constance walked through +the arcade of the office building in which the beauty parlor occupied +the top floor. She stopped at a florist's stand to admire the flowers, +but more for an excuse to look back at Stella. + +As Stella stepped into a taxicab, showing a generous wealth of silken +hosiery beneath the tango gown, Constance was aware that the driver of +another cab across the street was also interested. She noticed that he +turned and spoke to his fare through the open window. + +The cab swung around to follow the other and Constance caught a +fleeting glimpse of a familiar face. + +"Drummond," she exclaimed almost aloud. + +What did it mean? Why had the detective been employed to follow Stella? +Instinctively she concluded that he must be engaged by Mrs. Warrington. + +"I must accept Stella's invitation," she said to herself excitedly. "At +least, she should be put on her guard." + +That evening, as she was looking over the newspapers, her eye caught +the item in the Wall Street edition: + +RUBBER SYNDICATE DISSENSION + +Break in Stock Follows Effort of Strong Minority to Oust Warrington +from Presidency + +Then followed a brief account of the struggle of a powerful group of +directors to force Warrington, Braden, and the rest out, with a hint at +the scandal of which every one now was talking. + +"I never yet knew a man who went in for that sort of thing that lasted +long in business," she observed. "This is my chance--a crowd riding for +a fall." + +Constance chose a modest orchestra seat in preference to the place in a +box which Stella had reserved for her at the office, and, aside from +the purpose which was rapidly taking shape in her mind, she enjoyed the +play very much. Stella Larue, as the "Grass Widow," played her part +with a piquancy which Constance knew was not wholly a matter of book +knowledge. + +As the curtain went down, the audience, its appetite for the risque +whetted, filed out on Broadway with its myriad lights and continuous +film of motion. Constance made her way around to Stella's dressing room. + +She had scarcely been welcomed by Stella, whose cheeks beneath the +grease paint were now genuinely ablaze with excitement, when a man +entered. He was tall, spare, the type whose very bow is ingratiating +and whose "delighted, I assure you" is suave and compelling. + +Alfred Warrington seemed to be on very good terms indeed with Stella as +she introduced him to Constance. + +"You will join us, Mrs. Dunlap?" he asked, throwing an opera cloak over +Stella's shoulders. "Vera Charmant and Jack Braden are waiting for us +at the Little Montmartre." + +As he mentioned the famous cabaret, Constance took a little tighter +grip on herself and decided to take the plunge and see the affair out, +although that sort of thing had very little attraction for her. + +They were leaving the theater when she saw lurking in the crowd the +familiar figure of Drummond. She turned her head quickly and sank back +into the dark recesses of the limousine. + +Should she tell them now about him? + +She leaned over to Warrington. "I saw a man in the crowd just now who +seemed to be quite interested in us," she said quickly. "Can't we drive +around a bit to throw him off if he should get into a cab?" + +Warrington looked at her keenly. It was quite evident that he thought +it was Constance who was being followed, not Stella or himself. +Constance decided quickly to say nothing more that would prejudice +Stella, but as Warrington directed his driver to run up through the +park she saw that, far from alarming him, the words had only added a +zest of mystery about herself. + +They left the Park and the car jolted them quickly now over the uneven +asphalt to the palace of pleasure, where already the two advance guards +were holding one of the best tables in a house crowded with all classes +from debutantes to debauchees. + +"Diamond Jack" Braden was a heavy-set man with a debonnaire, dapper way +about him. He wore a flower in his buttonhole, a smart touch which +seemed very fetching, evidently, to the artistic Vera. + +Constance fell to studying him, as she did all men and women. "His +hands betray him," she said to herself, as she was introduced. + +They were in fact shielded from view as he bowed, one with the thumb +tucked in the corner of his trousers pocket, the other behind his back. + +"He is hiding something," flashed through her mind intuitively. And, +when she analyzed it, she felt still that there was nothing fanciful +about the idea. It was simply a little unconscious piece of evidence. + +From the start the cabaret was pretty rapid. When they entered, two of +the performers were rendering the Apache dance with an abandon that +improved on its namesake. Scarcely had they finished when the orchestra +began all over again, and a couple of diners from the tables glided +past them on the dancing floor, then another couple and another. + +"Tanguez-vous?" bowed Braden, leaning over to Stella. + +"Oui, je tanguerai," she nodded, catching the spirit of the place. + +It left Warrington and Constance at the table with Vera, and as +Constance looked eagerly after the graceful form of the little actress, +Warrington asked, "Will you dance!" + +"No, thank you," she said, trying him out. "I haven't had time to learn +these new steps. And, besides, I have had a bad day in the market. +Steel, Reading, everything is off. Not that I have lost much--but it's +what I haven't made." + +Warrington, who had been about to repeat his question to Vera, turned +suddenly. This was something new to him, to meet a woman like +Constance. If she knew about other stocks, she must know about the +Syndicate. Already he had felt an attraction toward Constance +physically, an attraction of maturity which somehow or other seemed +more satisfying, at least novel, in contrast with, the gay butterfly +talk of Stella. + +He did not ask Vera to dance. Instead he began banteringly to discuss +Wall Street and in five minutes he found out that she really knew as +much about certain features of the game as he did. She did not need to +be told that Alfred Warrington, plunger, man about town, was quite +unexpectedly struck by her personality. + +Now and then she could see Stella eyeing her covertly. The little +actress had had, like many another, a few dollars to invest or rather +with which to speculate. Her method had been usually to make a quick +profit on a tip from some Wall Street friend. Often, if the tip went +wrong, the friend would return the money to the unsuspecting little +girl, with some muttered apology about having been unable to get it +placed in time, and then, as the market went down or up, seeing that it +was too late, adding a congratulation that at least the principal was +saved if there was no profit. + +The little actress was plainly piqued. She saw, though she did not +understand, that Constance was a different kind of plunger from what +she had thought at first up at Charmant's. Instead of trying to compete +with Constance in her field, she redoubled her efforts in her own. Was +Warrington, a live spender, to slip through her grasp for a chance +acquaintance? + +Another dance. This time it was Stella and Warrington. Braden, who had +served excellently as a foil to lead Warrington on when he had eyes for +no one else, not even Vera, was left severely alone. Nothing was said, +not an action done openly, but Constance, woman-like, could feel the +contest in the air. And she felt just a little quiver when they sat +down and Warrington resumed the conversation with her where he had left +it. Even the daring cut of Stella's gown and the exaggerated proximity +of her dainty person had failed this time. + +As they chatted gaily, Constance enjoyed her triumph to the full. Yes, +she could see that Stella was violently jealous. But she intended that +she should be. That was now a part of her plan as it shaped itself in +her mind, since she had plunged or, perhaps better, had been dragged +into the game. + +As the evening wore on and the dancing became more furious, Warrington +seemed to catch the spirit of recklessness that was in the very air. He +talked more recklessly, once in a while with a bitterness not aimed at +any one in particular, which passed among the others as blase sarcasm +of one who had seen much and to whom even the fastest was slow. + +But to Constance, as she tried to fathom him, it presented an entirely +different interpretation. For example, she asked herself, why had he +been so ready, apparently, to transfer his interest from Stella? Was it +because, having cut loose from the one feminine tie that morally bound +him, he no longer felt any restraint in cutting loose from others? Was +it the same spirit that had carried him on in the money game, having +cut loose from one financial principle, to let all go and to guide his +course as close to the edge of things as he dared? There had been the +same reckless bravado in the way he had urged on the driver of his car +in the wild ride of the earlier evening, violating the speed laws yet +succeeding in escaping the traffic squad. + +Warrington was a plunger. Yet there was something about him that was +different from others she had seen. Perhaps it was that he had a +conscience, even though he had succeeded in detaching himself from it. + +And Stella. There was something different about her, too. Constance +more than once was on the point of revising her estimate of the little +actress. Was she, after all, wholly mercenary in her attitude toward +Warrington? Was he merely a live spender whom she could not afford to +lose? Or was she merely a beautiful, delicate creature caught in the +merciless maelstrom of the life into which she had been thrown? Did she +realize the perilous position this all was placing her in? + +They were among the last to leave and Vera and Braden offered to take +Constance to her apartment in Braden's car, while Stella contrived +prettily to take so much of Warrington's time with the wraps that by +the time they were ready to go the manner of the breaking up of the +party was as she wanted it. In her final triumph she could not help +just an extra inflection on, "I hope I'll see you again at Vera's soon, +my dear." + +All night, or at least all that was left of it, Constance tried to +straighten out the whirl of her thoughts. With the morning she had an +idea. Now, in a moment when the exhilaration of the gay life was at low +ebb, she must see Stella. + +It was early yet, but Stella was not at her hotel when Constance +cautiously called up the office to find out. Where was she? Constance +drove around to Charmant's on the chance that she might be there. Vera +greeted her a trifle coldly, she thought, but then this was not +midnight at the Montmartre. No, Stella was not there, she said, but +nevertheless Constance decided to wait. + +"I'm all unstrung," confided Constance, with an assumed air of languor, +as she dropped into a chair. + +Charmant, as fresh as if she had just emerged from the proverbial +bandbox, nodded knowingly. "A Turkish bath, massage, something to tone +you up," she advised. + +With alert eyes Constance went patiently through the process of +freshening, first in the steamy hot room where she had met Stella the +day before, then the deliciously cool shower, gentle massage, and all +the rest. + +At one of the little white tables of the manicures she noticed a +pretty, rather sad-faced little woman. There was something about her +that attracted Constance's attention, although she could not have told +exactly what it was. + +"You know her?" whispered Floretta, bursting with excitement. "No? +Why,--" and here she paused and dropped her voice even lower,--"that's +Mrs. Warrington." + +"Not the--" + +"Yes," she nodded, "his wife. You know, she comes here twice a week. We +have to do some tall scheming to keep them apart. No, it's not vanity, +either. It's--well--you see, she's trying to get him back, to look like +a sport." + +Constance thought of the hopeless fight so far which the little woman +was waging to keep up with the dashing actress. Then she thought of +Warrington, of last night, of how he had sought her, so ready, it +seemed, to leave even the "other woman." Then Floretta's remark +repeated itself mechanically. "We have to do some tall scheming to keep +them apart." Was Stella here, after all? + +Mrs. Warrington was not a bad looking woman and in fact it was +difficult to see how she expected to be improved by cosmetics that +would lighten her complexion, bleaches that would flaxen her hair, +tortures for this, that, and the other defect, real or imagined. + +Now, however, she was a creature of reinforcements, from her puffy +masses of light hair to her French heels and embroidered stockings that +showed through the slash in the drapery of her gown. + +Constance felt sorry for her, deeply sorry. The whole thing seemed not +in keeping with her. She was a home-maker, not a butterfly. Was +Warrington worth it all? asked Constance of herself. "At least she +thinks so," flashed over her, as Mrs. Warrington rose, and left the +room, watchfully guided by Floretta to the next process in her course +in beautification. + +Constance sank back luxuriously on the cushions of her chaise longue. +She longed to explore the beauty parlor, to leave the rest room and go +down the narrow corridor, prying into the secrets of the little +dressing rooms that opened into it. What did they conceal? Why had Vera +seemed so distant? Was it the natural reaction of the "morning after," +or was Stella really there and was she keeping her away from Mrs. +Warrington to prevent friction between two clients that would have been +annoying to all? + +She could reach no conclusion, except that there was a feeling of +luxurious well-being as she lolled back into the deep recesses of the +lounge in the corner of the room separated from the next room by a thin +board partition. + +Suddenly her attention was arrested by muffled voices on the other side +of the partition. She strained her ears. She could not, of course, see +the speakers, or even recognize their voices, but they were a man and a +woman. + +"We must get the thing settled right away," she overheard the man's +voice. "You see how he is? Every new face attracts him. See how he took +to that new one last night. Who knows what may happen? By and by some +one may come along and spoil all." + +"Couldn't we use her?" asked the woman. + +"No, you can't use that woman. She's too clever. But we must do +something, right away--to-night if possible." + +A pause. "How, then?" + +Another pause and the whispered monosyllable, "Dope!" + +"What?" + +"I have it here. Use a dozen of them. They can be snuffed as a powder, +or it can be put in a drink. If you want more--see, I will put the +bottle on this shelf--'way back. No one will see it." + +"Don't you think I ought to write a note, something that will be sure +to get him up here?" + +"Yes--just a line or two--as if in haste." + +There was a sound as if of tearing a sheet of note paper from a pad. + +"Is that all right?" + +"Yes. As soon as the market closes. There will be nothing done to-day. +To-morrow's the day. To-night we must get him going and in the meantime +a meeting will be held, the plan arranged at the Prince Henry +to-night--and then the smash. Between them all, he won't know what has +struck him." + +"All right. You had better go out as you came in. It's better that no +one up here should suspect anything." + +The voices ceased. + +What did it mean! Constance rose and sauntered around into the next +room. It was empty, but when she looked hastily up on the shelf there +was a bottle of white tablets and on a table a pad of note paper from +which a sheet had been torn. + +She picked up the bottle gingerly. Who had touched it? Her mind was +working quickly. Somewhere she had read of finger prints and the +subject had interested her because the system had been introduced in +banks and she saw that it was going to become more and more important. + +But how did they get them in a case like this? She had read of some +powder that adhered to the marks left by the sweat glands of the +fingers. There was the talcum powder. Perhaps it would do. + +Quickly she shook the box gently over the glass. Then she blew it off +carefully. + +Clear, sharp, distinct, there were the imprints of fingers! + +But the paper. Talcum powder would not bring them out on that. It must +be something black. + +A lead pencil! Eagerly she seized it and with, a little silver +pen-knife whittled off the wood. Scrape! scrape! until she had a neat +little pile of finely powdered graphite. + +Then she poured it on the paper and taking the sheet daintily by the +edges, so that she would not mix her own finger prints with the others, +she rolled the powder back and forth. As she looked anxiously she could +see the little grains adhering to the paper. + +A fine camel's hair brush lay on the table, for penciling. She took it +deftly. It made her think of that first time when she painted the +checks for Carlton. A lump came into her throat. + +There they were, the second pair of telltale prints. But what tale did +they tell? Whose were they? + +Her reading on finger prints had been very limited but, like everything +she did, to the point. She studied those before her, traced out as best +she could the loops, whorls, arches, and composites, even counted the +ridges on some of them. It was not so difficult, after all. + +She stopped in an uptown branch of her brokers in one of the hotels. +The market was very quiet, and even the Rubber Syndicate seemed to be +marking time. As she went out she passed the telephone booths. Should +she call up Warrington? Would he misinterpret it? What if he did? She +was mistress of her own tongue. She need not say too much. Besides, if +she were going on a fishing expedition, a telephone line was as good as +any other--better than a visit. + +"This is Mrs. Dunlap," she said directly. + +"Oh, how do you do, Mrs. Dunlap. I have been intending to call you up, +but," he paused, and added, "you know we are having a pretty strenuous +time down here." + +There was a genuine ring to the first part of his reply. But the rest +of it trailed off into the old blase tone. + +"I'm sorry," she replied. "I enjoyed last night so much." + +"Did you?" came back eagerly. + +Before he could add anything she asked, "I suppose you are going to see +Stella again this afternoon." + +"Why--er--yes," he hesitated. "I think so." + +"Where? At Vera's?" she asked, adopting a tone not of curiosity but of +chiding him for seeing Stella instead of herself. + +The moment of hesitation, before he said that he didn't know, told her +the truth. It was as good as a plain, "Yes." + +For a few moments they chatted. As she hung up the receiver after his +deferential goodbye, Constance knew that she had gained a new angle +from which to observe Warrington's character. He was intensely human +and he was "in wrong." Here was a mess, all around. + +The day wore on, yet brought no indecision as to what she would do, +though it brought no solution as to how to do it. The inaction was +worse than anything else. The last quotations had come in over the +ticker, showing the Syndicate stocks still unchanged. She left her +brokers and sat for a few moments in the rotunda of the hotel, +considering. She could stand it no longer. Whatever happened, she would +run around to Charmant's. Some excuse would occur when she got there. + +As Constance alighted from the private elevator, a delicate scent as of +attar of roses smote lightly on her, and there was, if anything, a +greater air of exotic warmth about the place. Everything, from the +electric bulbs buried deep in the clusters of amber artificial flowers +to the bright green leaves on the dainty trellises, the little +square-paned windows and white furniture, bespoke luxury. There was an +inviting "tone" to it all. + +"I'm glad I've found you," began Constance to Stella, as though nothing +had happened. "There is something I'd like to say to you besides +thanking you most kindly for the good time last--" + +"Is there anything I can do for you?" interrupted Madame Charmant in a +business like tone. "I am sure that Miss Larue invited you last night +because she thought you were lonely. She and Mr. Warrington, you know, +are old friends." + +Charmant emphasized the remark to mean, "You trespassed on forbidden +ground, if you thought you could get him away." + +Constance seemed not to notice the implication. + +"There is something I'd like to say," she repeated gently. + +She picked up a little inking pad which lay on a mahogany secretary +which Vera used as an office desk. + +"If you will be so kind, Stella, as to place your fingers flat on this +pad-never mind about the ink; call Floretta; she will wipe them off +afterwards-and then on this piece of paper, I won't bother you further." + +Almost before she knew it, the little actress had placed her dainty +white hand on the pad and then on the paper. + +Constance did the same, to illustrate, then called Floretta. "If Vera +will do as I have done," she said, offering her the pad, and taking her +hand. Charmant complied, and when Floretta arrived her impressions were +added to the others. + +"There's a man wishes to see you, outside, Madame," said Floretta, +wiping off the soiled finger tips. + +"Tell him to wait--in the little room." + +Floretta opened the door to go out and through it Constance caught +sight of a familiar face. + +A moment later the man was in the room with them. It was Drummond, the +same sneer, the same assurance in his manner. + +"So," he snarled at Constance. "You here?" + +"I seem to be here," she answered calmly. "Why?" + +"Never mind why," he blustered. "I knew you saw me the other night. I +heard you tell 'em to hit it up so as to shake me. But I found out all +right." + +"Found out what?" asked Constance coldly. + +"Say, that's about your style, isn't it? You always get in when it +comes to trimming the good spenders, don't you?" + +"Mr. Drummond," she replied, "I don't care to talk to you." + +"You don't, hey? Well, perhaps, when the time comes you'll have to +talk. How about that?" + +She was thinking rapidly. Was Mrs. Warrington preparing to strike a +blow that would be the last impulse necessary to send the plunger down +for the last time? She decided to take a chance, to temporize until +some one else made a move. + +"I'd thank you to place your fingers on this pad," said Constance +quietly. "I'm making a collection of these things." + +"You are, are you?" + +"Yes," she cut short. "And if my collection isn't large enough I shall +call up Mrs. Warrington and ask her to come over, too," she added +significantly. + +Floretta entered again. "Please wipe the ink off Mr. Drummond's +fingers," ordered Constance quietly, still holding out the pad. + +"Confound your impudence," he ground out, seizing the pad. "There! What +do you mean by Mrs. Warrington? What has she to do with this? Have a +care, Mrs. Dunlap--you're on the wrong track here, and going the wrong +way." + +"Mr. Warrington is--" began Floretta. + +"Show him in--quick," demanded Constance, determined to bring the +affair to a show-down on the spot. + +As the door swung open, Warrington looked at the group in unfeigned +surprise. + +"Mr. Warrington," greeted Constance without giving any of the others a +chance, "this morning, I heard a little conversation up here. Floretta, +will you go into the little room, and on the top shelf you will find a +bottle. Bring it here carefully. I have a sheet of paper, also, which I +am going to show you. I had already seen the little woman, Mr. +Warrington, whom you have treated so unjustly. She was here trying +vainly to win you back by those arts which she thinks must appeal to +you." + +Floretta returned with the bottle and placed it on the secretary beside +Constance. + +"Some one took some tablets from this bottle and gave them to some one +else who wrote on this paper," she resumed, bending first over the +paper she had torn from the pad. "Ah, a loop with twelve ridges, +another loop, a whorl, a whorl, a loop. The marks on this paper +correspond precisely with those made here just now by--Vera Charmant +herself!" + +"You get out of here--quick," snarled Drummond, placing himself between +the now furious Vera and Constance. + +"One minute," replied Constance calmly. "I am sure Mr. Warrington is a +gentleman, if you are not. Perhaps I have no finger prints to +correspond with those on the bottle. If not, I am sure that we can send +for some one whose prints will do so." + +She was studying the bottle. + +"The other, however," she said slowly to conceal her own surprise, "was +a person who has been set to trail you and Stella, Mr. Warrington, a +detective named Drummond!" + +Suddenly the truth flashed over her. Drummond was not employed by Mrs. +Warrington at all. Then by whom? By the directors. And the rest of +these people? Grafters who were using Stella to bait the hook. Braden +had gone over to them, had aided in plunging Warrington into the wild +life until he could no longer play the business game as before. +Charmant was his confederate, Drummond his witness. + +"Stella," said Constance, turning suddenly to the little actress, +"Stella, they are using you, 'Diamond Jack' and Vera, using you to lead +him on, playing the game of the minority of the directors of the +Syndicate to get him out. There is to be a meeting of the directors +to-night at the Prince Henry. He was to be in no condition to go. Are +you willing to be mixed up in such a scandal?" + +Stella Larue was crying into a lace handkerchief. "You--you are +all--against me," she sobbed. "What have I done?" + +"Nothing," soothed Constance, patting her shoulder. "As for Charmant +and Drummond, they are tied by these proofs," she added, tapping the +papers with the prints, then picking them up and handing them to +Warrington. "I think if the story were told to the directors at the +Prince Henry to-night with reporters waiting downstairs in the lobby, +it might produce a quieting effect." + +Warrington was speechless. He saw them all against him, Vera, Braden, +Stella, Drummond. + +"More than that," added Constance, "nothing that you can ever do can +equal the patience, the faith of the little woman I saw here to-day, +slaving, yes, slaving for beauty. Here in my hand, in these scraps of +paper, I hold your old life,--not part of it, but ALL of it," she +emphasized. "You have your chance. Will you take it?" + +He looked up quickly at Stella Larue. She had risen impulsively and +flung her arms about Constance. + +"Yes," he muttered huskily, taking the papers, "all of it." + + + + +CHAPTER VIII + +THE ABDUCTORS + + +"Take care of me--please--please!" + +A slip of a girl, smartly attired in a fur-trimmed dress and a chic +little feather-tipped hat, hurried up to Constance Dunlap late one +afternoon as she turned the corner below her apartment. + +"It isn't faintness or illness exactly--but--it's all so hazy," +stammered the girl breathlessly. "And I've forgotten who I am. I've +forgotten where I live--and a man has been following me--oh, ever so +long." + +The weariness in the tone of the last words caused Constance to look +more closely at the girl. Plainly she was on the verge of hysterics. +Tears were streaming down her pale cheeks and there were dark rings +under her eyes, suggestive of a haunting fear of something from which +she fled. + +Constance was astounded for the moment. Was the girl crazy? She had +heard of cases like this, but to meet one so unexpectedly was surely +disconcerting. + +"Who has been following you!" asked Constance gently, looking hastily +over her shoulder and seeing no one. + +"A man," exclaimed the girl, "but I think he has gone now." + +"Can't you think of your name!" urged Constance. "Try." + +"No," cried the girl, "no, I can't, I can't." + +"Or your address?" repeated Constance. "Try--try hard!" + +The girl looked vacantly about. + +"No," she sobbed, "it's all gone--all." + +Puzzled, Constance took her arm and slowly walked her up the street +toward her own apartment in the hope that she might catch sight of some +familiar face or be able to pull herself together. + +But it was of no use. + +They passed a policeman who eyed them sharply. The mere sight of the +blue-coated officer sent a shudder through the already trembling girl +on her arm. + +"Don't, don't let them take me to a hospital--don't," pleaded the girl +in a hoarse whisper when they had passed the officer. + +"I won't," reassured Constance. "Was that the man who was following +you?" + +"No--oh, no," sobbed the girl nervously looking back. + +"Who was he, then?" asked Constance eagerly. + +The girl did not answer, but continued to look back wildly from time to +time, although there was no doubt that, if he existed at all, the man +had disappeared. + +Suddenly Constance realized that she had on her hands a case of +aphasia, perhaps real, perhaps induced by a drug. + +At any rate, the fear of being sent away to an institution was so +strong in the poor creature that Constance felt intuitively how +disastrous to her might be the result of disregarding the obsession. + +She was in a quandary. What should she do with the girl? To leave her +on the street was out of the question. She was now more helpless than +ever. + +They had reached the door of the apartment. Gently she led the +trembling girl into her own home. + +But now the question of what to do arose with redoubled force. She +hesitated to call a physician, at least yet, because his first advice +would probably be to send the poor little stranger to the psychopathic +ward of some hospital. + +Constance's eye happened to rest on the dictionary in her bookcase. +Perhaps she might recall the girl's name to her, if she were not +shamming, by reading over the list of women's names in the back of the +book. + +It meant many minutes, perhaps hours. But then Constance reflected on +what might have happened to the girl if she had chanced to appeal to +some one who had not felt a true interest in her. It was worth trying. +She would do it. + +Starting with "A," she read slowly. + +"Is your name Abigail?" + +Down through Barbara, Camilla, Deborah, Edith, Faith, she read. + +"Flora?" she asked. + +The girl seemed to apprehend something, appear less blank. + +"Florence?" persisted Constance. + +"Oh, yes," she cried, "that's it--that's my name." + +But as for the last name and the address she was just as hazy as ever. +Still, there was now something different about her. + +"Florence--Florence what?" reiterated Constance patiently. + +There was no answer. But with the continued repetition it seemed as if +some depth in her nature had been stirred. Constance could not help +feeling that the girl had really found herself. + +She had risen and was facing Constance, both hands pressed to her +throbbing temples as if to keep her head from bursting. Constance had +assisted her off with her coat and hat, and now the sartorial wreck of +her masses of blonde hair was apparent. + +"I suppose," she cried incoherently, "I'm just one more of the +thousands of girls who drop out of sight every year." + +Constance listened in amazement. As the spell of her influence seemed +to calm the overwrought mind of the girl there succeeded a hardness in +her tone that was wholly out of keeping with her youth. There was +something that breathed of a past where there should have been nothing +but the thought of a future. + +"Tell me why," soothed Constance with an air that invited confidence. + +The girl looked up and again passed her hand over her white forehead +with its mass of tangled fallen hair. Somehow Constance felt a tingling +sensation of sympathy in her heart. Impulsively she put out her hand +and took the cold moist hand of the girl. + +"Because," she hesitated, struggling now with re-flooding +consciousness, "because--I don't know. I thought, perhaps--" she added, +dropping her eyes, "you could--help me." + +She was speaking rapidly enough now, "I think they have employed +detectives to trace me. One of them is almost up with me. I'm afraid I +can't slip out of the net again. And--I--I won't go back to them. I +can't. I won't." + +"Go back to whom?" queried her friend. "Detectives employed by whom?" + +"My folks," she answered quickly. + +Constance was surprised. Least of all had she expected that. + +"Why won't you go home?" she prompted as the girl seemed about to lapse +into a sort of stolid reticence. + +"Home?" she repeated bitterly. "Home? No one would believe my story. I +couldn't go home, now. They have made it impossible for me to go home. +I mean, every newspaper has published my picture. There were headlines +for days, and only by chance I was not recognized." + +She was sobbing now convulsively. "If they had only let me alone! I +might have gone back, then. But now--after the newspapers and the +search--never! And yet I am going to have revenge some day. When he +least expects it I am going to tell the truth and--" + +She stopped. + +"And what?" asked Constance. + +"Tell the truth--and then do a cowardly thing. I would--" + +"You would not!" blazed Constance. + +There was no mistaking the meaning. + +"Leave it to me. Trust me. I will help you." + +She pulled the girl down on the divan beside her. + +"Why talk of suicide?" mused Constance. "You can plead this aphasia I +have just seen. I know lots of newspaper women. We could carry it +through so that even the doctors would help us. Remember, aphasia will +do for a girl nowadays what nothing else can do." + +"Aphasia!" Florence repeated harshly. "Call it what you +like--weakness--anything. I--I loved that man--not the one who followed +me--another. I believed him. But he left me--left me in a place--across +in Brooklyn. They said I was a fool, that some other fellow, perhaps +better, with more money, would take care of me. But I left. I got a +place in a factory. Then some one in the factory became suspicious. I +had saved a little. It took me to Boston. + +"Again some one grew suspicious. I came back here, here--the only place +to hide. I got another position as waitress in the Betsy Ross Tea Room. +There I was able to stay until yesterday. But then a man came in. He +had been there before. He seemed too interested in me, not in a way +that others have been, but in me--my name. Some how I suspected. I put +on my hat and coat. I fled. I think he followed me. All night I have +walked the streets and ridden in cars to get away from him. At last--I +appealed to you." + +The girl had sunk back into the soft pillows of the couch beside her +new friend and hid her face. Softly Constance patted and smoothed the +wealth of golden hair. + +"You--you poor little girl," she sympathized. + +Then a film came over her own eyes. + +"New York took me at a critical time in my own life," she said more to +herself than to the girl. "She sheltered me, gave me a new start. What +she did for me she will do for any other person who really wishes to +make a fresh start in life. I made few acquaintances, no friends. +Fortunately, the average New Yorker asks only that his neighbor leave +him alone. No hermit could find better and more complete solitude than +in the heart of this great city." + +Constance looked pityingly at the girl before her. + +"Why can't you tell them," she suggested, "that you wanted to be +independent, that you went away to make your own living?" + +"But--they--my father--is well off. And they have this detective who +follows me. He will find me some day--for the reward--and will tell the +truth." + +"The reward?" + +"Yes--a thousand dollars. Don't you remember reading--" + +The girl stopped short as if to check herself. + +"You--you are Florence Gibbons!" gasped Constance as with a rush there +came over her the recollection of a famous unsolved mystery of several +months before. + +The girl did not look up as Constance bent over and put her arms about +her. + +"Who was he?" she asked persuasively. + +"Preston--Lansing Preston," she sobbed bitterly. "Only the other day I +read of his engagement to a girl in Chicago--beautiful, in society. +Oh--I could KILL him," she cried, throwing out her arms passionately. +"Think of it. He--rich, powerful, respected. I--poor, almost crazy--an +outcast." + +Constance did not interfere until the tempest had passed. + +"What name did you give at the tea room?" asked Constance. + +"Viola Cole," answered Florence. + +"Rest here," soothed Constance. "Here at least you are safe. I have an +idea. I shall be back soon." + +The Betsy Ross was still open after the rush of tired shoppers and +later of business women to whom this was not only a restaurant but a +club. Constance entered and sat down. + +"Is the manager in?" she asked of the waitress. + +"Mrs. Palmer? No. But, if you care to wait, I think she'll be back +directly." + +As Constance sat toying absently with some food at one of the snowy +white tables, a man entered. A man in a tea room is an anomaly. For the +tea room is a woman's institution, run by women for women. Men enter +with diffidence, and seldom alone. This man was quite evidently looking +for some one. + +His eye fell on Constance. Her heart gave a leap. It was her old enemy, +Drummond, the detective. For a moment he hesitated, then bowed, and +came over to her table. + +"Peculiar places, these tea rooms," observed Drummond. + +Constance was doing some quick thinking. Could this be the detective +Florence Gibbons had mentioned? + +"The only thing lacking to make them complete," he rattled on, "is a +license. Now, take those places that have a ladies' bar--that do openly +what tea rooms do covertly. They don't reckon with the attitude of +women. This is New York--not Paris. Such things are years off. I don't +say they'll not come or that women won't use them--but not by that +name--not yet." + +Constance wondered what his cynical inconsequentialities masked. + +"I think it adds to the interest," she observed, watching him +furtively, "this evasion of the laws." + +Drummond was casting about for something to do and, naturally, to a +mind like his, a drink was the solution. Evidently, however, there were +degrees of brazenness, even in tea rooms. The Betsy Ross not only would +not produce a labeled bottle and an obvious glass but stoutly denied +their ability to fill such an order, even whispered. + +"Russian tea?" suggested Drummond cryptically. + +"How will you have it--with Scotch or rye?" asked the waitress. + +"Bourbon," hazarded Drummond. + +When the "Russian tea" arrived it was in a neat little pot with two +others, the first containing real tea and the second hot water. It was +served virtuously in tea cups, so opaquely concealed that no one but +the clandestine drinker could know what sort of poison was being served. + +Mrs. Palmer was evidently later than expected. Drummond fidgeted after +the manner of a man out of his accustomed habitat. And yet he did not +seem to be interested really in Constance, or even in Mrs. Palmer. For +after a few moments, he rose and excused himself. + +"How did HE come here?" Constance asked herself over and over. + +As far as she could reason it out, there could be only one reason. +Drummond was clearly up with Florence. Did he also know that Constance +was shielding her? + +The more she thought of it, the more she shuddered at the tactless way +in which the detective would perform the act of "charity" by +discovering the lost girl--and pocketing the reward. + +If her family only knew, how eagerly they might let her come back in +her own way. She looked up the address of Everett Gibbons while she was +waiting, a half-formed plan taking definite shape in her mind. + +What--she did must be done quickly. Here at the tea room at least +Florence, or rather Viola, was known. Perhaps the best way, after all, +was to let her be discovered here. They could not deny that she had +been working for them acceptably for some time. + +Half an hour later, Mrs. Palmer, a bustling business woman, came in and +the waitress pointed her out to Constance. + +"Did you have a waitress here named Viola Cole?" began Constance, +watching keenly the effect of her inquiry. + +"Yes," replied Mrs. Palmer in a tone of interest that reassured +Constance that, if there were any connection between Drummond's +presence and Mrs. Palmer, it was wholly on his seeking. "But she +disappeared last night. A most peculiar girl--but a splendid worker." + +"She has been ill," Constance hastened to explain. "I am a friend of +hers. I have a business downtown and could not come around until +to-night to tell you that she will be back to-morrow if you will take +her back." + +"Of course I'll take her back. I'm sorry she's ill," and Mrs. Palmer +bustled out into the kitchen, not unfeelingly but merely because that +was her manner. + +Constance paid her check and left the tea room. So far she had +succeeded. The next thing she had planned was a visit to Mr. Gibbons. +That need not take long, for she was not going to tell anything. Her +idea was merely to pave the way. + +The Gibbons she found, lived in a large house on one of the numerous +side streets from the Park, in a neighborhood that was in fact +something more than merely well-to-do. + +Fortunately she found Everett Gibbons in and was ushered into his +study, where he sat poring over some papers and enjoying an +after-dinner cigar. + +"Mr. Gibbons," began Constance, "I believe there is a one thousand +dollar reward for news of the whereabouts of your daughter, Florence." + +"Yes," he said in a colorless tone that betrayed the hopelessness of +the long search. "But we have traced down so many false clues that we +have given up hope. Since the day she went away, we have never been +able to get the slightest trace of her. Still, we welcome outside aid." + +"Of detectives?" she asked. + +"Official and private--paid and volunteer--anybody," he answered. "I +myself have come to the belief that she is dead, for that is the only +explanation I can think of for her long silence." + +"She is not dead," replied Constance in a low tone. + +"Not dead?" he repeated eagerly, catching at even such a straw as an +unknown woman might cast out. "Then you know--" + +"No," she interrupted positively, "I cannot tell you any more. You must +call off all other searchers. I will let you know." + +"When?" + +"To-morrow, perhaps the next day. I will call you on the telephone." + +She rose and made a hasty adieu before the man who had been prematurely +aged might overwhelm her with questions and break down her resolution +to carry the thing through as she had seen best. + +Cheerily, Constance turned the key in the lock of her door. + +There was no light and somehow the silence smote on her ominously. + +"Florence!" she called. + +There was no answer. + +Not a sign indicated her presence. There was the divan with the pillows +disarranged as they had been when she left. The furniture was in the +same position as before. Hastily she went from one room to another. +Florence had disappeared! + +She went to the door again. All seemed right there. If any one had +entered, it must have been because he was admitted, for there were no +marks to indicate that the lock had been forced. + +She called up the tea room. Mrs. Palmer was very sympathetic, but there +had been no trace of "Viola Cole" there yet. + +"You will let me know if you get any word?" asked Constance anxiously. + +"Surely," came back Mrs. Palmer's cordial reply. + +A hundred dire possibilities crowded through her mind. Might Florence +be held somewhere as a "white slave"--not by physical force but by +circumstances, ignorant of her rights, afraid to break away again? + +Or was it suicide, as she had threatened? She could not believe it. +Nothing could have happened in such a short time to change her +resolution about revenge. + +The recollection of all the stories she had read recently crossed her +mind. Could it be a case of drugs? The girl had given no evidence of +being a "dope" fiend. + +Perhaps some one had entered, after all. + +She thought of the so-called "poisoned needle" cases. Might she not +have been spirited off in that way? Constance had doubted the stories. +She knew that almost any doctor would say that it was impossible to +inject a narcotic by a sudden jab of a hypodermic syringe. That was +rather a slow, careful and deliberate operation, to be submitted to +with patience. + +Yet Florence was gone! + +Suddenly it flashed over Constance that Drummond might not be seeking +the reward primarily, after all. His first object might be shielding +Preston. She recollected that Mr. Gibbons had said nothing about +Drummond, either one way or the other. And if he were both shielding +Preston and working for the reward, he would care little how much +Florence suffered. He might be playing both ends to serve himself. + +She rang the elevator bell. + +"Has anybody called at my apartment while I was out?" she asked. + +"Yes'm. A man came here." + +"And you let him up?" + +"I didn't know you were out. You see I had just come on. He said he was +to meet some one at your apartment. And when he pressed the buzzer, the +door opened, and I ran the elevator down again. I thought it was all +right, ma'am." + +"And then what?" inquired Constance breathlessly. + +"Well, in about five minutes my bell rang. I ran the elevator up again, +and, waiting, was this man with a girl I had never seen before. You +understand--I thought it was all right--he told me he was going to meet +some one." + +"Yes--yes. I understand. Oh, my God, if I had only thought to leave +word not to let her go. How did she look?" + +"Her clothes, you mean, Ma'am?" + +"No--her face, her eyes!" + +"Beggin' your pardon, I thought she was--well, er,--acted +queer--scared--dazed-like." + +"You didn't notice which way they went, I suppose!" + +"No ma'am, I didn't." + +Constance turned back again into her empty apartment, heart-sick. In +spite of all she had planned and done, she was defeated--worse than +defeated. Where was Florence! What might not happen to her! She could +have sat down and cried. Instead she passed a feverishly restless night. + +All the next day passed, and still not a word. She felt her own +helplessness. She could not appeal to the police. That might defeat the +very end she sought. She was single-handed. For all she knew, she was +fighting the almost limitless power of brains and money of Preston. +Inquiry developed the fact that Preston himself was reported to be in +Chicago with his fiancee. Time and again she was on the point of making +the journey to let him know that some one at least was watching him. +But, she reflected, if she did that she might miss the one call from +Florence for help. + +Then she thought bitterly of the false hopes she had raised in the +despairing father of Florence Gibbons. It was maddening. + +Several times during the day Constance dropped into the Betsy Ross, +without finding any word. + +Late that night the buzzer on her door sounded. It was Mrs. Palmer +herself, with a letter at last, written on rough paper in pencil with a +trembling hand. + +Constance almost literally pounced on it. + +"Will you tell the lady who was so kind to me that while she was out +seeing you at the tea room, there was a call at her door? I didn't like +to open it, but when I asked who was there, a man said it was the +steam-fitter she had asked to call about the heat. + +"I opened the door. From that moment when I saw his face until I came +to myself here I remember nothing. I would write to her, only I don't +know where she lives. One of the bell-boys here is kind enough to +smuggle this note out for me addressed to the Betsy Boss. + +"Tell her please, that I am at a place in Brooklyn, I think, called +Lustgarten's--she can recognize it because it is at a railroad +crossing--steam railroads, not trolleys or elevateds. + +"I know you think me crazy, Mrs. Palmer, but the other lady can tell +you about it. Oh, it was the same horrible feeling that came over me +that night as before. It isn't a dream; it's more like a trance. It +comes in a second--usually when I am frightened. I suddenly feel +nervous and shaky. I can't tell what is going on around me. I lose my +hearing. Part of the time it is as though, I had a paralytic stroke of +the tongue. The next day, perhaps, it is gone. But while it lasts it is +terrifying. It's like walking into a new world, with everybody, +everything strange about me." + +The note ended with a most pathetic appeal. + +Constance was already nervously putting on her hat. + +"You are going to go there?" asked Mrs. Palmer. + +"If I can locate the place," she answered. + +"Aren't you afraid?" inquired the other. + +Constance did not reply. She ostentatiously slipped a little +ivory-handled revolver into her handbag. + +"It's a new one," she explained finally, "like nothing you ever heard +of before, I guess. I bought it only the other day after a friend of +mine told me about it." + +Mrs. Palmer was watching her closely. + +"You--you are a wonderful woman," she burst out finally. "It isn't good +business, it isn't good sense." + +Constance stopped short in her preparations for the search. "What are +business and sense compared to the--the life of--" + +She checked herself on the very point of revealing the girl's real name. + +"Nothing," replied Mrs. Palmer. "I had already made up my mind to go +with you before I spoke--if you will let me." + +In a moment the two understood each other better than after years of +casual acquaintance. + +Back and forth through the mazes of streets and car lines of the city +across the river the two women traveled, asking veiled questions of +every wearer of a uniform, until at last they found such a place as +Florence had described in her note. + +There, it seemed, had sprung up a little center of vice. While +reformers were trying to clamp down tight the "lid" in New York, all +the vicious elements were prying it up here. Crushed in one place, they +rose again in another. + +There was the electric sign--"Lustgarten." Even a cursory glance told +them that it included a saloon on the first floor, with a sort of dance +hall and second-rate cabaret. Above that was a hotel. The windows were +darkened, with awnings pulled down, even on what must have been in the +daytime the shady side. + +"Shall we go in? Are you game?" asked Constance of her companion. + +"I haven't gone so far without considering that," replied Mrs. Palmer, +somewhat reproachfully. + +Without a word Constance entered the door down the street followed by +her companion. + +A negro at the little cubby hole of an office pushed out a register at +them. Constance signed the first names that came into her head, and a +moment later they were on their way up to a big double room on the +third floor, led by another, younger negro. + +"Will you send the bell-boy up?" asked Constance as they entered the +room. + +"I'm the bell-boy ma'am," was his disconcerting reply. + +"I mean the other one," replied Constance, hazarding, "the one who is +here in the day time." + +"There ain't no other boy, ma'am. There ain't no--" + +"Could you deliver a note for me at a tea room in New York to-morrow?" +interrupted Constance, striking while the iron seemed hot. + +The boy turned around abruptly from his busy occupation of doing +something useless that would elicit a tip. He quietly shut the door, +and wheeled about with his hand still on the knob. + +"Do you want to know what room she's in?" he asked. + +Constance opened her handbag. Mrs. Palmer suppressed a little scream. +She had expected that ivory-handled thing to appear. Instead there was +a treasury note of a size that caused the white part of the boy's eyes +to expand beyond all the laws of optics. + +"Yes," she said, pressing it into his hand. + +"Forty-two-down the hall, around the turn, on the other side," +whispered the boy. "And for God's sake, ma'am, don't tell nobody I told +you." + +His shuffle down the hall had scarcely ceased before the two women were +stealthily creeping in the opposite direction, looking eagerly at the +numbers. + +Constance had stopped abruptly around the turn. Through a transom of +one of the rooms they could hear voices but could see no light. + +"Well, go back then," growled a gruff voice. "Your family will never +believe your story, never believe that you came again and stayed at +Lustgarten's against your will. Why," the voice taunted with a harsh +laugh, "if they knew the truth, they would turn you from the door, +instead of offering a reward." + +There was a moment of silence. Then a woman's voice, strangely familiar +to Constance, spoke. + +"The truth!" she exclaimed bitterly. "He knew it was a case of a girl +who liked a good time, liked pretty clothes, a ride in an automobile, +theaters, excitement, bright lights, night life--a girl with a romantic +disposition in whom all that was repressed at home. He knew it," she +repeated, raising the tone to an almost hysterical pitch, "led me on, +made me love him because he could give them all to me. And when I began +to show the strain of the pace-they all show it more than the men--he +cast me aside like a squeezed-out lemon." + +As she listened, Constance understood it all now. It was to make +Florence Gibbons a piece of property, a thing to be traded in, +bartered--that was the idea. Discover her--yes; but first to thrust her +into the life if she would not go into it herself--anything to +discredit her testimony beforehand, anything to save the precious +reputation of one man. + +"Well," shouted the other voice menacingly, "do you want to know the +truth? Haven't you read it often enough? Instead of hoping you will +return, they pray that you are DEAD!" + +He hissed the words out, then added, "They prefer to think that you are +dead. Why--damn it!--they turn to that belief for COMFORT!" + +Constance had seized Mrs. Palmer by the arm, and, acting in concert, +they threw both their weights against the thin wooden door. + +It yielded with a crash. + +Inside the room was dark. + +Indistinctly Constance could make out two figures, one standing, the +other seated in a deep rocker. + +A suppressed exclamation of surprise was followed by a hasty lunge of +the standing figure toward her. + +Constance reached quickly into her handbag and drew out the little +ivory-handled pistol. + +"Bang!" it spat almost into the man's face. + +Choking, sputtering, the man groped a minute blindly, then fell on the +floor and frantically tried to rise again and call out. + +The words seemed to stick in his throat. + +"You--you shot him?" gasped a woman's voice which Constance now knew +was Florence's. + +"With the new German Secret Service gun," answered Constance quietly, +keeping it leveled to cow any assistance that might be brought. "It +blinds and stupefies without killing--a bulletless revolver intended to +check and render harmless the criminal instead of maiming him. The +cartridges contain several chemicals that combine when they are +exploded and form a vapor which blinds a man and puts him out. No one +wants to kill such a person as this." + +She reached over and switched on the lights. + +The man on the floor was Drummond himself. + +"You will tell your real employer, Mr. Preston," she added +contemptuously, "that unless he agrees to our story of his elopement +with Florence, marries her, and allows her to start an undefended +action for divorce, we intend to make use of the new federal Mann +Act--with a jail sentence--for both of you." + +Drummond looked up sullenly, still blinking and choking. + +"And not a word of this until the suit is filed. Then WE will see the +reporters--not he. Understand?" + +"Yes," he muttered, still clutching his throat. + +An hour later Constance was at the telephone in her own apartment. + +"Mr. Gibbons? I must apologize for troubling you at this late, or +rather early, hour. But I promised you something which I could not +fulfill until now. This is the Mrs. Dunlap who called on you the other +day with a clue to your daughter Florence. I have found +her--yes--working as a waitress in the Betsy Ross Tea Boom. No--not a +word to anyone--not even to her mother. No--not a word. You can see her +to-morrow--at my apartment. She is going to live with me for a few days +until--well--until we get a few little matters straightened out." + +Constance had jammed the receiver back on the hook hastily. + +Florence Gibbons, wild-eyed, trembling, imploring, had flung her arms +about her neck. + +"No--no--no," she cried. "I can't. I won't." + +With a force that was almost masculine, Constance took the girl by both +shoulders. + +"The one thousand dollar reward which comes to me," said Constance +decisively, "will help us--straighten out those few little matters with +Preston. Mrs. Palmer can stretch the time which you have worked for +her." + +Something of Constance's will seemed to be infused into Florence +Gibbons by force of suggestion. + +"And remember," Constance added in a tense voice, "for anything after +your elopement--it's aphasia, aphasia, APHASIA!" + + + + +CHAPTER IX + +THE SHOPLIFTERS + + +"Madam, would you mind going with me for a few moments to the office on +the third floor?" + +Constance Dunlap had been out on a shopping excursion. She had stopped +at the jewelry counter of Stacy's to have a ring repaired and had gone +on to the leather goods department to purchase something else. + +The woman who spoke to her was a quietly dressed young person, quite +inconspicuous, with a keen eye that seemed to take in everything within +a radius of a wide-angled lens at a glance. + +She leaned over and before Constance could express even surprise, added +in a whisper, "Look in your bag." + +Constance looked hastily, then realized what had happened. The ring was +gone! + +It gave her quite a shock, too, for the ring, a fine diamond, was a +present from her husband, one of the few pieces of jewelry, treasured +not only for its intrinsic value but as a remembrance of Carlton and +the supreme sacrifice he had made for her. + +She had noticed nothing in the crowd, nothing more than she had noticed +scores of times before. The woman watched her puzzled look. + +"I've been following you," she said. "By this time the other store +detectives must have caught the shoplifter and bag-opener who touched +you. You see, we don't make any arrests in the store if we can help it, +because we don't like to make a scene. It's bad for business. Besides, +if she had anything else, we are safer when the case comes to court, if +we have caught her actually leaving the store with it. Of course, when +we make an arrest on the sidewalk, we bring the shoplifter back, but in +a private, back elevator." + +Constance was following the young woman mechanically. At least there +was a chance of recovering the ring. + +"She was standing next to you at the jewelry counter," she continued, +"and if you will help identify her the store management will appreciate +it--and make it worth your while. Besides," she urged, "It's really +your duty to do it, madam." + +Constance remembered now the rather simply but richly gowned young +woman who had been standing next to her at the counter, seemingly +unable to decide which of a number of beautiful rings she really +wanted. She remembered because, with her own love of beauty, she had +wanted one herself, in fact had thought at the time that she, too, +might have difficulty in choosing. + +With the added feeling of curiosity, Constance followed the woman +detective up in the elevator. + +In the office, apart in a little room curiously furnished with a +camera, innumerable photographs, cabinets, and filing cases, was a +young woman, perhaps twenty-six or seven. On a table before her lay a +pile of laces and small trinkets. There, too, was the beautiful diamond +ring which she had hidden in her muff. Constance fairly gasped at the +sight. + +The girl was sitting limply in a chair crying bitterly. She was not a +hardened looking creature. In fact, her face bore evident traces of +refinement, and her long, slender fingers hinted at a nervous, artistic +temperament. It was rather a shock to see such a girl under such +distressing circumstances. + +"We've lost so much lately," a small ferret-eyed man was saying, "that +we must make an example of some one. It's serious for us detectives, +too. We'll lose our jobs unless we can stop you boosters." + +"Oh--I--I didn't mean to do it. I--I just couldn't help it," sobbed the +girl over and over again. + +"Yes," drawled the man, "that's what they all say. But you've been +caught with the goods, this time, young lady." + +A woman entered, and the man turned to her quickly. + +"Carr--Kitty Carr. Did you find anything under that name?" + +"No, sir," replied the woman store detective. "We've looked all through +the records and the photographs. We don't find her. And yet I don't +think it is an alias--at least, if it is, not an alias for any one we +have any record of. I've a good eye for faces, and there isn't one we +have on file as--as good looking," she added, perhaps with a little +touch of wistfulness at her own plainness and this beauty gone wrong. + +"This is the woman who lost the ring," put in the other woman +detective, motioning to Constance, who had accompanied her and was +standing, a silent spectator. + +The man held up the ring, which Constance had already recognized. + +"Is that yours?" he asked. + +For a moment, strangely, she hesitated. If it had been any other ring +in the world she felt sure that she would have said no. But, then, she +reflected, there was that pile of stuff. There was no use in concealing +her ownership of the ring. "Yes," she murmured. + +"One moment, please," answered the man brusquely. "I must send down for +the salesgirl who waited on you to identify you and your check--a mere +formality, you know, but necessary to keep things straight." + +Constance sat down. + +"I suppose you don't realize it," explained the man, turning to +Constance, "but the shoplifters of the city get away with a couple of +million dollars' worth of stuff every year. It's the price we have to +pay for displaying our goods. But it's too high. They are the +department store's greatest unsolved problem. Now most of the stores +are working together for their common interests, seeing what they can +do to root them out. We all keep a sort of private rogue's gallery of +them. But we don't seem to have anything on this girl, nor have any of +the other stores who exchange photographs and information with us +anything on her." + +"Evidently, then, it is her first offense," put in Constance, wondering +at herself. Strangely, she felt more of sympathy than of anger for the +girl. + +"You mean the first time she has been caught at it," corrected the head +of the store detectives. + +"It is my weakness," sobbed the girl. "Sometimes an irresistible +impulse to steal comes over me. I just can't help it." + +She was sobbing convulsively. As she talked and listened there seemed +to come a complete breakdown. She wept as though her heart would break. + +"Oh," exclaimed the man, "can it! Cut out the sob stuff!" + +"And yet," mused Constance half to herself, watching the girl closely, +"when one walks through the shops and sees thousands of dollars' worth +of goods lying unprotected on the counters, is it any wonder that some +poor woman or girl should be tempted and fall? There, before her eyes +and within her grasp, lies the very article above all others which she +so ardently craves. No one is looking. The salesgirl is busy with +another customer. The rest is easy. And then the store detective steps +in--and here she is--captured." + +The girl had been listening wildly through her tears. "Oh," she sobbed, +"you don't understand--none of you. I don't crave anything. I--I +just--can't help it--and then, afterwards--I--I HATE the stuff--and I +am so--afraid. I hurry home--and I--oh, what shall I do--what shall I +do?" + +Constance pitied her deeply. She looked from the wild-eyed, +tear-stained face to the miscellaneous pile of material on the table, +and the unwinking gaze of the store detectives. True, the girl had +taken a very valuable diamond ring, and from herself. But the laces, +the trinkets, all were abominably cheap, not worth risking anything for. + +Constance's attention was recalled by the man who beckoned her aside to +talk to the salesgirl who had waited on her. + +"You remember seeing this lady at the counter?" he asked of the girl. +She nodded. "And that woman in there?" he motioned. Again the salesgirl +nodded. + +"Do you remember anything else that happened?" he asked Constance as +they faced Kitty Carr and he handed Constance the ring. + +Constance looked the detective squarely in the face for a moment. + +"I have my ring. You have the other stuff," she murmured. "Besides, +there is no record against her. She doesn't even look like a +professional bad character. No--I'll not appear to press the +charge--I'll make it as hard as I can before I'll do it," she added +positively. + +The woman, who had overheard, looked her gratitude. The detectives were +preparing to argue. Constance hardly knew what she was saying, as she +hurried on before any one else could speak. + +"No," she added, "but I'll tell you what I will do. If you will let her +go I will look after her. Parole her, unofficially, with me." + +Constance drew a card from her case and handed it to the detective. He +read it carefully, and a puzzled look came over his face. "Charge +account--good customer--pays promptly," he muttered under his breath. + +For a moment he hesitated. Then he sat down at a desk. + +"Mrs. Dunlap," he said, "I'll do it." + +He pulled a piece of printed paper from the desk, filled in a few +blanks, then turned to Kitty Carr, handing her a pen. + +"Sign here," he said brusquely. + +Constance bent over and read. It was a form of release: + +"I, Kitty Carr, residing at -- East --th Street, single, age +twenty-seven years, in consideration of the sum of One Dollar, hereby +admit taking the following property... without having paid therefor and +with intent not to pay therefor, and by reason of the withdrawal of the +complaint of larceny, OF WHICH I AM GUILTY, I hereby remise, release, +and forever discharge the said Stacy Co. or its representatives from +any claims, action, or causes of action which I may have against the +Stacy Co. or its representatives or agents by reason of the withdrawal +of said charge of larceny and failure to prosecute." + +"Signed, Kitty Carr." + +"Now, Kitty," soothed Constance, as the trembling signature was blotted +and added to a photograph which had quietly been taken, "they are going +to let you go this time--with me. Come, straighten your hat, wipe your +eyes. You must take me home with you--where we can have a nice long +talk. Remember, I am your friend." + +On the way uptown and across the city the girl managed to tell most of +her history. She came from a family of means in another city. Her +father was dead, but her mother and a brother were living. She herself +had a small annuity, sufficient to live on modestly, and had come to +New York seeking a career as an artist. Her story, her ambitions +appealed to Constance, who had been somewhat of an artist herself and +recognized even in talking to the girl that she was not without some +ability. + +Then, too, she found that Kitty actually lived, as she had said, in a +cozy little kitchenette apartment with two friends, a man and his wife, +both of whom happened to be out when they arrived. As Constance looked +about she could see clearly that there was indeed no adequate reason +why the girl should steal. + +"How do you feel?" asked Constance when the girl had sunk half +exhausted on a couch in the living room. + +"Oh, so nervous," she replied, pressing her hands to the back of her +head, "and I have a terrible headache, although it is a little better +now." + +They had talked for perhaps half an hour, as Constance soothed her, +when there was the sound of a key in the door. A young woman in black +entered. She was well-dressed, in fact elegantly dressed in a quiet +way, somewhat older than Kitty, but by no means as attractive. + +"Why--hello, Kitty," she cried, "what's the matter!" + +"Oh, Annie, I'm so unstrung," replied the girl, then recollecting +Constance, added, "let me introduce my friend, Mrs. Dunlap. This is +Mrs. Annie Grayson, who has taken me in as a lodger and is ever so kind +to me." + +Constance nodded, and the woman held out her hand frankly. + +"Very glad to meet you," she said. "My husband, Jim, is not at home, +but we are a very happy little family up here. Why, Kitty, what is the +matter?" + +The girl had turned her face down in the sofa pillows and was sobbing +again. Between sobs she blurted out the whole of the sordid story. And +as she proceeded, Annie glanced quickly from her to Constance, for +confirmation. + +Suddenly she rose and extended her hand to Constance. + +"Mrs. Dunlap," she said, "how can I ever thank you for what you have +done for Kitty? She is almost like a sister to me. You--you were--too +good." + +There was a little catch in the woman's voice. But Constance could not +quite make out whether it was acted or wholly genuine. + +"Did she ever do anything like that before?" she asked. + +"Only once," replied Annie Grayson, "and then I gave her such a talking +to that I thought she would be able to restrain herself when she felt +that way again." + +It was growing late and Constance recollected that she had an +engagement for the evening. As she rose to go Kitty almost overwhelmed +her with embraces. + +"I'll keep in touch with Kitty," whispered Constance at the door, "and +if you will let me know when anything comes up that I may help her in, +I shall thank you." + +"Depend on me," answered Mrs. Grayson, "and I want to add my thanks to +Kitty's for what you have done. I'll try to help you." + +As she groped her way down the as yet unlighted stairs, Constance +became aware of two men talking in the hall. As she passed them she +thought she recognized one of the voices. She lowered her head, and +fortunately her thin veil in the half-light did the rest. She passed +unnoticed and reached the door of the apartment. + +As she opened it she heard the men turn and mount the stairs. +Instinctively she realized that something was wrong. One of the men was +her old enemy, Drummond, the detective. + +They had not recognized her, and as she stood for a moment with her +hand on the knob, she tried to reason it out. Then she crept back, and +climbed the stairs noiselessly. Voices inside the apartment told her +that she had not been mistaken. It was the apartment of the Graysons +and Kitty that they sought. + +The hall door was of thin, light wood, and as she stood there she could +easily hear what passed inside. + +"What--is Kitty ill?" she heard the strange man's voice inquire. + +"Yes," replied Mrs. Grayson, then her voice trailed off into an +indistinguishable whisper. + +"How are you, Kitty?" asked the man. + +"Oh, I have a splitting headache, Jim. I've had it all day. I could +just get up and--screech!" + +"I'm sorry. I hope it gets better soon." + +"Oh, I guess it will. They often go away as suddenly as they come. You +know I've had them before." + +Drummond's voice then spoke up. + +"Did you see the Trimble ad. to-night?" he asked, evidently of Annie. +"They have a lot of new diamonds from Arkansas, they say,--one of them +is a big one, the Arkansas Queen, I believe they call it." + +"No, I didn't see the papers," replied Annie. + +There was the rustle of a newspaper. + +"Here's a picture of it. It must be great. I've heard a good deal about +it." + +"Have you seen it?" asked Annie. + +"No, but I intend to see it." + +They had passed into the next room, and Constance, fearing to be +discovered, decided to get away before that happened. + +Early the next morning she decided to call on Kitty, but by the time +Constance arrived at the apartment it was closed, and a neighbor +informed her that the two women had gone out together about half an +hour before. + +Constance was nervous and, as she left the apartment, she did not +notice that a man who had been loitering about had quickened his pace +and overtaken her. + +"So," drawled a voice, "you're traveling with shoplifters now." + +She looked up quickly. This time she had run squarely into Drummond. +There was no concealment possible now. Her only refuge was silence. She +felt the hot tingle of indignation in her cheeks. But she said nothing. + +"Huh!" exclaimed Drummond, walking along beside her, and adding +contemptuously, "I don't know the young one, but you know who the other +is?" + +Constance bit her lip. + +"No?" he queried. "Then I'll show you." + +He had taken from his pocket a bunch of oblong cards. Each bore, she +could see from the corner of her eye, a full face and a profile picture +of a woman, and on the back of the card was a little writing. + +He selected one and handed it to Constance. Instantly she recognized +the face. It was Annie Grayson, with half a dozen aliases written after +the name. + +"There!" he fairly snorted. "That's the sort of people your little +friend consorts with. Why, they call Annie Grayson the queen of the +shoplifters. She has forgotten more about shoplifting than all the rest +will ever know." + +Constance longed to ask him what had taken him to the Grayson flat the +night before, but thought better of it. There was no use in angering +Drummond further. Instead, she let him think that he had succeeded in +frightening her off. + +She went back to her own apartment to wait and worry. Evidently +Drummond was pretty sure of something, or he would not have disclosed +his hand to her, even partially. She felt that she must see Kitty +before it was too late. Then the thought crossed her mind that perhaps +already it was too late. Drummond evidently was working in some way for +an alliance of the department stores outside. + +Constance had had her own ideas about Kitty. And as she waited and +watched, she tried to reason how she might carry them out if she had a +chance. + +She had just been insured, and had been very much interested in the +various tests that the woman doctor of the insurance company had +applied to her. One in particular which involved the use of a little +simple instrument that fitted over the forearm had interested her +particularly. She had talked to the doctor about it, and as she talked +an idea had occurred to her that it might have other uses than those +which the doctor made of it. She had bought one. While she was waiting +it occurred to her that perhaps it might serve her purpose. She got the +instrument out. It consisted of a little arrangement that fitted over +the forearm, and was attached by a tube to a dial that registered in +millimeters a column of mercury. Would it really show anything, she +wondered? + +There was a quick call on the telephone and she answered it, her hand +trembling, for she felt sure that it was something about the little +woman she had befriended. + +Somehow or other her voice hardened as she answered the call and found +that it was from Drummond. It would never do to betray even nervousness +before him. + +"Your friend, Miss Carr," shot out Drummond with brutal directness, +"has been caught again. She fell into something as neatly as if she had +really meant to do it. Yesterday, you know, Trimble's advertised the +new diamond, the Arkansas Queen, on exhibition. Well, it was made of +paste, anyway. But it was a perfect imitation. But that didn't make any +difference. We caught Kitty just now trying to lift it. I'm sorry it +wasn't the other one. But small fry are better than none. We'll get +her, too, yet. Besides, I find this Kitty has a record already at +Stacy's." + +He added the last words with a taunting sneer. Constance realized +suddenly the truth. The whole affair had been a plant of Drummond's! + +"You are at Trimble's?" she inquired quickly. "Well, can you wait there +just a few minutes? I'd like to see Miss Carr." + +Drummond promised. His acquiescence in itself boded no good, but +nevertheless she decided to go. As she left her apartment hurriedly she +picked up the little instrument and dropped it into her hand-bag. + +"You see, it's no use," almost chortled Drummond as Constance stepped +off the elevator and opened the door to a little room at Trimble's much +like that which she had already seen at Stacy's. "A shoplifter becomes +habitual after twenty-five. They get to consorting with others of their +kind." + +Kitty was sitting rigidly motionless in a chair, staring straight +ahead, as Constance entered. She gave a start at the sight of a +familiar face, rose, and would almost have fainted if Constance had not +caught her. It seemed as if something had snapped in the girl's +make-up. For the first time tears came. Constance patted her hand +softly. The girl was an enigma. Was she a clever actress--one minute +hardened Miss Sophisticated, the next appealing Miss Innocence? + +"How did you--catch her?" asked Constance a moment later as she found +an opportunity to talk to Drummond alone. + +"Oh, she was trying to substitute a paste replica for the alleged +Arkansas Queen. The clerk noticed the replica in time, saw a little +spot of carbon on it--and she was shadowed and arrested just as she was +leaving the store. Yes, they found the other paste jewel on her. She +was caught with the goods." + +"Replica?" repeated Constance, thinking of the picture that had +appeared in the papers the night before. "How could she get a replica +of it?" + +"How do I know?" shrugged Drummond coldly. + +Constance looked him squarely in the eyes. + +"What about Annie Grayson?" she asked pointblank. + +"I have taken care of that," he replied harshly. "She is already under +arrest, and from what I have heard we may get something on her now. We +have a record against the Carr girl. We can use it against her friend. +We're just about taking her to the flat to identify the Grayson woman. +Would you like to come along?" he added in a spirit of bravado. "I +think you are a material witness in the Stacy case, anyhow." + +Constance felt bitterly her defeat. Still she went with them. There was +always a chance that something might turn up. + +As they entered the door of the kitchenette loud voices told them that +some one was disputing inside. + +Drummond strode in. + +The sight of a huge pile of stuff that two strange men had drawn out of +drawers and closets and stacked on the table riveted Constance's eyes. +Only dimly she could hear that Annie Grayson was violently threatening +Drummond, who stood coolly surveying the scene. + +The stuff on the table was, in fact, quite enough to dazzle the eyes. +There were articles of every sort and description there--silks, laces, +jewelry and trinkets, little antiques, even rare books--everything +small and portable, some of the richest and most exquisite, others of +the cheapest and most tawdry. It was a truly remarkable collection, +which the raiding detectives had brought to light. + +As Constance took in the scene--the raiding detectives holding the +stormy Annie Grayson at bay, Drummond, cool, supercilious, Kitty almost +on the edge of collapse--she wondered how Jim Grayson had managed to +slip through the meshes of the net. + +She had read of such things. Annie Grayson was to all appearances a +"fence" for stolen goods. This was, perhaps, a school for shoplifters. +In addition to her other accomplishments, the queen of the shoplifters +was a "Fagin," educating others to the tricks of her trade, taking +advantage of their lack of facility in disposing of the stolen goods. + +Just then the woman caught sight of Constance standing in the doorway. + +In an instant she had broken loose and ran toward her. + +"What are you," she hissed, "one of these department store Moll Dicks, +too?" + +Quick as a flash Kitty Carr had leaped to her feet and placed herself +between them. + +"No, Annie, no. She was a real friend of mine. No--if your own friends +had been as loyal as she was to me this would never have happened--I +should never have been caught again, for I should never have given them +a chance to get it on me." + +"Little fool!" ground out Annie Grayson, raising her arm. + +"Here--here--LADIES!" interposed Drummond, protruding an arm between +the two, and winking sarcastically to the two other men. "None of that. +We shall need both of you in our business. I've no objection to your +talking; but cut out the rough stuff." + +Constance had stepped back. She was cool, cool as Drummond, although +she knew her heart was thumping like a sledge-hammer. There was Kitty +Carr, in a revulsion of feeling, her hands pressed tightly to her head +again, as if it were bursting. She was swaying as if she would faint. + +Constance caught her gently about the waist and forced her down on the +couch where she had been lying the night before. With her back to the +others, she reached quickly into her hand-bag and pulled out the little +instrument she had hastily stuffed into it. Deftly she fastened it to +Kitty's wrist and forearm. + +She dropped down on her knees beside the poor girl, and gently stroked +her free hand, reassuring her in a low tone. + +"There, there," she soothed. "You are not well, Kitty. Perhaps, after +all, there may be something--some explanation." + +In spite of all, however, Kitty was on the verge of the wildest +hysterics. Annie Grayson sniffed contemptuously at such weakness. + +Drummond came over, an exasperating sneer on his face. As he looked +down he saw what Constance was doing, and she rose, so that all could +see now. + +"This girl," she said, speaking rapidly, "is afflicted with a nervous +physical disorder, a mania, which is uncontrollable, and takes this +outlet. It is emotional insanity--not loss of control of the will, but +perversion of the will." + +"Humph!" was Drummond's sole comment with a significant glance at the +pile of goods on the table. + +"It is not the articles themselves so much," went on Constance, +following his glance, "as it is the pleasure, the excitement, the +satisfaction--call it what you will--of taking them. A thief works for +the benefit he may derive from objects stolen after he gets them. Here +is a girl who apparently has no further use for an article after she +gets it, who forgets, perhaps hates it." + +"Oh, yes," remarked Drummond; "but why are they all so careful not to +get caught? Every one is responsible who knows the nature and +consequences of his act." + +Constance had wheeled about. + +"That is not so," she exclaimed. "Any modern alienist will tell you +that. Sometimes the chief mark of insanity may be knowing the nature +and consequences, craftily avoiding detection with an almost superhuman +cunning. No; the test is whether knowing the nature and consequences, a +person suffers under such a defect of will that in spite of everything, +in the face of everything, that person cannot control that will." + +As she spoke, she had quickly detached the little instrument and had +placed it on Annie Grayson's arm. If it had been a Bertillon camera, or +even a finger-print outfit, Annie Grayson would probably have fought +like a tigress. But this thing was a new one. She had a peculiar spirit +of bravado. + +"Such terms as kleptomania," went on Constance, "are often regarded as +excuses framed up by the experts to cover up plain ordinary stealing. +But did you wiseacres of crime ever stop to think that perhaps they do +actually exist? + +"There are many things that distinguish such a woman as I have +described to you from a common thief. There is the insane desire to +steal--merely for stealing's sake--a morbid craving. Of course in a +sense it is stealing. But it is persistent, incorrigible, irrational, +motiveless, useless. + +"Stop and think about it a moment," she concluded, lowering her voice +and taking advantage of the very novelty of the situation she had +created. "Such diseases are the product of civilization, of +sensationalism. Naturally enough, then, woman, with her delicately +balanced nervous organization, is the first and chief offender--if you +insist on calling such a person an offender under your antiquated +methods of dealing with such cases." + +She had paused. + +"What did you say you called this thing?" asked Drummond as he tapped +the arrangement on Annie Grayson's arm. + +He was evidently not much impressed by it, yet somehow instinctively +regarded it with somewhat of the feelings of an elephant toward a mouse. + +"That?" answered Constance, taking it off Annie Grayson's wrist before +she could do anything with it. "Why, I don't know that I said anything +about it. It is really a sphygmomanometer--the little expert witness +that never lies--one of the instruments the insurance companies use now +to register blood pressure and discover certain diseases. It occurred +to me that it might be put to other and equally practical uses. For no +one can conceal the emotions from this instrument, not even a person of +cast-iron nerves." + +She had placed it on Drummond's arm. He appeared fascinated. + +"See how it works?" she went on. "You see one hundred and twenty-five +millimeters is the normal pressure. Kitty Carr is absolutely abnormal. +I do not know, but I think that she suffers from periodical attacks of +vertigo. Almost all kleptomaniacs do. During an attack they are utterly +irresponsible." + +Drummond was looking at the thing carefully. Constance turned to Annie +Grayson. + +"Where's your husband?" she asked offhand. + +"Oh, he disappeared as soon as these department store dicks showed up," +she replied bitterly. She had been watching Constance narrowly, quite +nonplussed, and unable to make anything out of what was going on. + +Constance looked at Drummond inquiringly. + +He shook his head slowly. "I'm afraid we'll never catch him," he said. +"He got the jump on us--although we have our lines out for him, too." + +She had glanced down quickly at the little innocent-looking but +telltale sphygmomanometer. + +"You lie!" she exclaimed suddenly, with all the vigor of a man. + +She was pointing at the quivering little needle which registered a +sudden, access of emotion totally concealed by the sang-froid of +Drummond's well-schooled exterior. + +She wrenched the thing off his wrist and dropped it into her bag. A +moment later she stood by the open window facing the street, a bright +little police whistle gleaming in her hand, ready for its shrill alarm +if any move were made to cut short what she had to say. + +She was speaking rapidly now. + +"You see, I've had it on all of you, one after another, and each has +told me your story, just enough of it for me to piece it together. +Kitty is suffering from a form of vertigo, an insanity, kleptomania, +the real thing. As for you, Mr. Drummond, you were in league with the +alleged husband--your own stool pigeon--to catch Annie Grayson." + +Drummond moved. So did the whistle. He stopped. + +"But she was too clever for you all. She was not caught, even by a man +who lived with her as her own husband. For she was not operating." + +Annie Grayson moved as if to face out her accusers at this sudden turn +of fortune. + +"One moment, Annie," cut in Constance. + +"And yet, you are the real shoplifter, after all. You fell into the +trap which Drummond laid for you. I take pleasure, Mr. Drummond, in +presenting you with better evidence than even your own stool pigeon +could possibly have given you under the circumstances." + +She paused. + +"For myself," she concluded, "I claim Kitty Carr. I claim the right to +take her, to have her treated for her--her disease. I claim it because +the real shoplifter, the queen of the shoplifters, Annie Grayson, has +worked out a brand-new scheme, taking up a true kleptomaniac and using +her insanity to carry out the stealings which she suggested--and +safely, to this point, has profited by!" + + + + +CHAPTER X + +THE BLACKMAILERS + + +"They're late this afternoon." + +"Yes. I think they might be on time. I wish they had made the +appointment in a quieter place." + +"What do you care, Anita? Probably somebody else is doing the same +thing somewhere else. What's sauce for the gander is sauce for the +goose." + +"I know he has treated me like a dog, Alice, but--" + +There was just a trace of a catch in the voice of the second woman as +she broke off the remark and left it unfinished. + +Constance Dunlap had caught the words unintentionally above the hum of +conversation and the snatches of tuneful music wafted from the large +dining-room where day was being turned into night. + +She had dropped into the fashionable new Vanderveer Hotel, not to meet +any one, but because she liked to watch the people in "Peacock Alley," +as the corridor of the hotel was often popularly called. + +Somehow, as she sat inconspicuously in a deep chair in an angle, she +felt that very few of the gaily chatting couples or of the waiting men +and women about her were quite what they seemed on the surface. + +The conversation from around the angle confirmed her opinion. Here, +apparently at least, were two young married women with a grievance, and +it was not for those against whom they had the grievance, real or +imagined, that they were waiting so anxiously. + +Constance leaned forward to see them better. The woman nearest her was +a trifle the elder of the two, a very attractive-looking woman, +tastefully gowned and carefully groomed. The younger, who had been the +first speaker, was, perhaps, the more dashing. Certainly she appeared +to be the more sophisticated. And as Constance caught her eye she +involuntarily thought of the old proverb, "Never trust a man who +doesn't look you in the eye or a woman who does." + +Two men sauntered down the long corridor, on the way from a visit to +the bar. As they caught sight of the two ladies, there was a smile of +recognition, an exchange of remarks between each pair, and the men +hurried in the direction of the corner. + +They greeted the two ladies in low, bantering, familiar terms--"Mr. +Smith," "Mrs. Jones," "Mr. White" and "Mrs. Brown." + +"You got my card!" asked one of the men of the woman nearest Constance. +"Sorry we're late, but a business friend ran into us as we were coming +in and I had to shunt him off in the other direction." + +He nodded toward the opposite end of the corridor with a laugh. + +"You've been bad boys," pouted the other woman, "but we forgive +you--this time." + +"Perhaps we may hope to be reinstated after a little--er--tea--and a +dance?" suggested the other man. + +The four were all moving in the direction of the dining-room and the +gay music. + +They had disappeared in the crush about the door before Constance +noticed that the woman who had been sitting nearest her had dropped an +envelope. She picked it up. It was on the stationery of another +fashionable hotel, evidently written by one of those who lounge in, and +on the strength of a small bill in the cafe use the writing room. In a +man's hand was the name, "Mrs. Anita Douglas, The Melcombe Apartments, +City" + +Before she realized it, Constance had pulled out the card inside and +glanced at it. It read: + + MY DEAREST A----: + + Can you meet us in the Vanderveer to-morrow afternoon at four? + Bring along your little friend. + + With many * * * * + + Yours, + + ????? + +Mechanically Constance crumpled the card and the envelope in her hand +and held them as she regarded the passing throng, intending to throw +them away when she passed a scrap basket on the way out. + +Still, it was a fascinating scene, this of the comedy and tragedy of +human weaknesses, and she stayed much longer than she had intended. One +by one the people had either gone to dinner in the main dining-room or +elsewhere and Constance had nearly decided on going, too. + +She was looking down the corridor toward the desk when she saw +something that caused her to change her mind. There was the young lady +who had been talking so flippantly to the woman with a grievance, and +she was now talking, of all people, to Drummond! + +Constance shrank back into her wicker chair in the protecting angle. +What did it mean? If Drummond had anything to do with it, even +remotely, it boded no good, at least. + +Suddenly a possible explanation crossed her mind. Was it a side-light +upon that peculiar industry of divorce as practiced in no place except +New York? + +It was not only that Constance longed for, lived by excitement. She +felt a sense of curiosity as to what the detective was up to now. And, +somehow, she felt a duty in the case. She determined to return the +envelope and card, and meet the woman. And the more she thought of it +the more imperative became the idea. + +So it came about that the following forenoon Constance sought out the +Melcombe Apartments, a huge stone and brick affair on a street which +the uptown trend of population was transforming. + +Anita Douglas, she had already found out by an inquiry or two, was the +wife of a well-known business man. Yet, as she entered the little +apartment, she noticed that there was no evidence about it of a man's +presence. + +Mrs. Douglas greeted her unexpected visitor with an inquiring look. + +"I was passing through the corridor of the Vanderveer yesterday +afternoon," began Constance, leaping into the middle of her errand, +"and I happened to see this envelope lying on the carpet. I thought +first of destroying it; then that perhaps you would rather destroy it +yourself." + +Mrs. Douglas almost pounced on the letter as Constance handed it to +her. "Thank you," she exclaimed. "It was very thoughtful of you." + +For a moment or two they chatted of inconsequential things. + +"Who was your friend?" asked Constance at length. + +The woman caught her breath and flushed a bit, evidently wondering just +how much Constance really knew. + +"The young lady," added Constance, who had put the question in this +form purposely. + +"Why do you ask?" Mrs. Douglas inquired in a tone that betrayed +considerable relief. + +"Because I can tell you something of her, I think." + +"A friend of mine--a Mrs. Murray. Why?" + +"Aren't you just a little bit afraid of--er--friends that you may +chance to make in the city?" queried Constance. + +"Afraid?" repeated the other. + +"Yes," said Constance, coming gradually to the point. "You know there +are so many detectives about." + +Mrs. Douglas laughed half nervously. "Oh, I've been shadowed," she +replied confidently. "I know how to shake them off. If you can't do +anything else, you can always take a taxi. Besides, I think I can +uncover almost any shadow. All you have to do, if you think you're +being shadowed, is to turn a corner and stop. That uncovers the shadow +as soon as he comes up to the corner, and after that he is useless. You +know him." + +"That's all right," nodded Constance; "but you don't know these crooked +detectives nowadays as I do. They can fake up evidence to order. That +is their business, you know, to manufacture it. You may uncover a +six-dollar operative, Mrs. Douglas, but are you the equal of a +twenty-dollar-a-day investigator?" + +The woman looked genuinely scared. Evidently Constance knew some things +she didn't know, at least about detectives. + +"You--you don't think there is anything like that, do you?" she asked +anxiously. + +"Well," replied Constance slowly to impress her, "I saw your friend, +Mrs. Murray, after you had left the Vanderveer, talking to a detective +whom I have every reason to fear as one of the most unscrupulous in the +game." + +"Oh, that is impossible!" persisted Mrs. Douglas. + +"Not a bit of it," pursued Constance. "Think it over for a moment. Who +would be the last person a man or woman would suspect of being a +detective? Why, just such an attractive young woman, of course. You +see, it is just this way. They reason that if they can only get +acquainted with people the rest is easy. For, people, under the right +circumstances, will tell everything they know." + +The woman was staring at Constance. + +"For example," urged Constance, "I'm talking to you now as if I had +known you for years. Why, Mrs. Douglas, men tell their most important +business secrets to chance luncheon and dinner companions whom they +think have no direct or indirect interest in them. Over tea-tables +women tell their most intimate personal affairs. In fact, all you have +to do is to keep your ears open." + +Mrs. Douglas had risen and was nervously watching Constance, who saw +that she had made an impression and that all that was necessary was to +follow it up. + +"Now, for instance," added Constance quickly, "you say she is a friend +of yours. How did you meet her?" + +Mrs. Douglas did not raise her eyes to Constance's now. Yet she seemed +to feel that Constance was different from other chance acquaintances, +to feel a sort of confidence, and to want to meet frankness with +frankness. + +"One day I was with a friend of mine at the new Palais de Maxixe," she +answered in a low voice as if making a confession. "A woman in the +dressing-room borrowed a cigarette. You know they often do that. We got +talking, and it seemed that we had much in common in our lives. Before +I went back to him--" + +She bit her lip. She had evidently not intended to admit that she knew +any other men. Constance, however, appeared not to notice the slip. + +"I had arranged to meet her at luncheon the next day," she continued +hastily. "We have been friends ever since." + +"You went to luncheon with her, and--" Constance prompted. + +"Oh, she told me her story. It was very much like my own--a husband who +was a perfect bear, and then gossip about him that so many people, +besides his own wife, seemed to know, and--" + +Constance shook her head. "Really," she observed thoughtfully, "it's a +wonder to me how any one stays married these days. Somebody is always +mixing in, getting one or the other so wrought up that they get to +thinking there is no possibility of happiness. That's where the crook +detective comes in." + +Anita Douglas, confidence established now, poured out her story +unreservedly, as there was little reason why she should not, a story of +the refined brutality and neglect and inhumanity of her husband. + +She told of her own first suspicions of him, of a girl who had been his +stenographer, a Miss Helen Brett. + +But he was careful. There had never been any direct, positive evidence +against him. Still, there was enough to warrant a separation and the +payment to her of an allowance. + +They had lived, she said, in a pretty little house in the suburb of +Glenclair, near New York. Now that they were separated, she had taken a +little kitchenette apartment at the new Melcombe. Her husband was +living in the house, she believed, when he was not in the city at his +club, "or elsewhere," she added bitterly. + +"But," she confided as she finished, "it is very lonely here in a big +city all alone." + +"I know it is," agreed Constance sympathetically as they parted. "I, +too, am often very lonely. Call on me, especially if you find anything +crooked going on. Call on me, anyhow. I shall be glad to see you any +time." + +The words, "anything crooked going on," rang in Mrs. Douglas's ears +long after the elevator door had clanged shut and her new friend had +gone. She was visibly perturbed. And the more she thought about it the +more perturbed she became. + +She had carried on a mild, then an ardent, flirtation with the man who +had introduced himself as "Mr. White"--really Lynn Munro. But she +relied on her woman's instinct in her judgment of him. No, she felt +sure that he could not be other than she thought. But as for Alice +Murray and her friend whom she had met at the Palais de Maxixe--well, +she was forced to admit that she did not know, that Constance's warning +might, after all, be true. + +Munro had had to run out of town for a few days on a business trip. +That she knew, for it had been the reason why he had wanted to see her +before he went. + +He had, in fact, spent the evening in her company, after the other +couple had excused themselves on one pretext or another. + +She called up Alice Murray at the number she had given. She was not +there. In fact, no one seemed to know when she would be there. It was +strange, because always before it had seemed possible to get her at any +moment, almost instantly. That, too, worried her. + +She tried to get the thing out of her mind, but she could not. She had +a sort of foreboding that her new friend had not spoken without reason, +a feeling of insecurity as though something were impending over her. + +The crisis came sooner than even Constance had anticipated when she +called on Anita Douglas. It was early in the afternoon, while Anita was +still brooding, that a strange man called on her. Instinctively she +seemed to divine that he was a detective. He, at least, had the look. + +"My name," he introduced himself, "is Drummond." + +Drummond paused and glanced about as if to make sure that he could by +no possibility be overheard. + +"I have called," he continued, "on a rather delicate matter." + +He paused for effect, then went on: + +"Some time ago I was employed by Mr. Douglas to--er--to watch his wife." + +He was watching her narrowly to see what effect his sudden remark would +have on her. She was speechless. + +"Since then," he added quietly, "I have watched, I have seen--what I +have seen." + +Drummond had faced her. Somehow the effect of his words was more potent +on her than if he had not accused her by indirection. Still she said +nothing. + +"I can suppress it," he insinuated. + +Her heart was going like a trip-hammer. + +"But it will cost something to do that." + +Here was a straw--she caught at it eagerly. + +"Cost something?" she repeated, facing him. "How much?" + +Drummond never took his eyes from her anxious face. + +"I was to get a fee of one thousand dollars if I obtained some letters +that had passed from her to a man named Lynn Munro. He has gone out of +town--has left his rooms unguarded. I have the letters." + +She felt a sinking sensation. One thousand dollars! + +Suddenly the truth of the situation flashed over her. He had come with +an offer that set her bidding against her husband for the letters. And +in a case of dollars her husband would win. One thousand dollars! It +was blackmail. + +"I--I can't afford it," she pleaded weakly. "Can't you make it--less?" + +Drummond shook his head. Already he had learned what he had come to +learn. She did not have the money. + +"No," he replied positively, adding, by way of inserting the knife and +turning it around, "I shall have to turn the letters over to him +to-day." + +She drew herself up. At least she could fight back. + +"But you can't prove anything," she cut in quickly. + +"Can't I?" he returned. "The letters don't speak for themselves, do +they? You don't realize that this interview helps to prove it, do you? +An innocent woman wouldn't have considered my offer, much less plead +with me. Bah! can't prove anything. Why, it's all in plain black and +white!" + +Drummond flicked the ashes from his cigar into the fireplace as he rose +to go. At the door he turned for one parting shot. + +"I have all the evidence I need," he concluded. "I've got the goods on +you. To-night it will be locked in his safe--documentary evidence. If +you should change your mind--you can reach me at his office. Call under +an assumed name--Mrs. Green, perhaps." + +He was gone, with a mocking smile at the parting shot. + +Anita Douglas saw it all now. Things had not been going fast enough to +suit her new friend, Mrs. Murray. So, after a time, she had begun to +tell of her own escapades and to try to get Anita to admit that she had +had similar adventures. It was a favorite device of detectives, working +under the new psychological method by use of the law of suggestion. + +She had introduced herself, had found out about Lynn Munro, and in some +way, after he had left town, had got the letters. Was he in the plot, +too? She could not believe it. + +Suddenly the thought came to her that the blackmailers might give her +husband material that would look very black if a suit for divorce came +up in court. + +What if he were able to cut off her little allowance? She trembled at +the thought of being thus cast adrift on the world. + +Anita Douglas did not know which way to turn. In her dilemma she +thought only of Constance. She hurried to her. + +"It was as you said, a frame-up," she blurted out, as she entered +Constance's apartment, then in the same breath added, "That Mrs. Murray +was just a stool pigeon." + +Constance received her sympathetically. She had expected such a visit, +though not so soon. + +"Just how much do they--know?" she asked pointedly. + +Anita had pressed her hands together nervously. "Really--I confess," +she murmured, "indiscretions--yes; misconduct--no!" + +She spoke the last words defiantly. Constance listened eagerly, though +she did not betray it. + +She had found out that it was a curious twist in feminine psychology +that the lie under such circumstances was a virtue, that it showed that +there was hope for such a woman. Admission of the truth, even to a +friend, would have shown that the woman was hopelessly lost. Lie or +not, Constance felt in her inmost heart that she approved of it. + +"Still, it looks badly," she remarked. + +"Perhaps it does--on the surface," persisted Anita. + +"You poor dear creature," soothed Constance. "I don't say I blame you +for your--indiscreet friendships. You are more sinned against than +sinning." + +Sympathy had its effect. Anita was now sobbing softly, as Constance +stole her arm about her waist. + +"The next question," she reasoned, considering aloud, "is, of course, +what to do? If it was just one of these blackmailing detective cases it +would be common, but still very hard to deal with. There's a lot of +such blackmailing going on in New York. Next to business and political +cases, I suppose, it is the private detective's most important graft. +Nearly everybody has a past--although few are willing to admit it. The +graft lies in the fact that people talk so much, are so indiscreet, +take such reckless chances. It's a wonder, really, that there isn't +more of it." + +"Yet there is the--evidence, as he called it--my letters to Lynn--and +the reports that that woman must have made of our--our conversations," +groaned Anita. "How they may distort it all!" + +Constance was thinking rapidly. + +"It is now after four o'clock," she said finally, looking at her wrist +watch. "You say it was not half an hour ago that Drummond called on +you. He must be downtown about now. Your husband will hardly have a +chance more than to glance over the papers this afternoon." + +Suddenly an idea seemed to occur to her. "What do you suppose he will +do with them?" she asked. + +Mrs. Douglas looked up through her tears, calmer. "He is very +methodical," she answered slowly. "If I know him rightly, I think he +will probably go out to Glenclair with them to-night, to look them +over." + +"Where will he keep them?" broke in Constance suddenly. + +"He has a little safe in the library out there where he keeps all such +personal papers. I shouldn't be surprised if he looked them over and +locked them up there until he intends to use them at least until +morning." + +"I have a plan," exclaimed Constance excitedly. "Are you game?" + +Anita Douglas looked at her friend squarely. In her face Constance read +the desperation of a woman battling for life and honor. + +"Yes," replied Anita in a low, tense tone, "for anything." + +"Then meet me after dinner in the Terminal. We'll go out to Glenclair." + +The two looked deeply into each other's eyes. Nothing was said, but +what each read was a sufficient answer to a host of unspoken questions. + +A moment after Mrs. Douglas had gone, Constance opened a cabinet. From +the false back of a drawer she took two little vials of powder and a +small bottle with a sponge. + +Then she added a long steel bar, with a peculiar turn at the end, to +her paraphernalia for the trip. + +Nothing further occurred until they met at the Terminal, or, in fact, +on the journey out. On most of the ride Mrs. Douglas kept her face +averted, looking out of the window into the blackness of the night. +Perhaps she was thinking of other journeys out to Glenclair, perhaps +she was afraid of meeting the curious gaze of any late sojourners who +might suffer from acute suburban curiosity. + +Quietly the two women alighted and quickly made their way from the +station up the main street, then diverged to a darker and less +frequented avenue. + +"There's the house," pointed out Mrs. Douglas, halting Constance, with +a little bitter exclamation. + +Evidently she had reasoned well. He had gone out there early and there +was a light in the library. + +"He isn't much of a reader," whispered Mrs. Douglas. "Oh--it's clear to +me that he has the stuff all right. He's devouring it, gloating over +it." + +The sound of footsteps approaching down the paved walk came to them. +Loitering on the streets of a suburban town always occasions suspicion, +and instinctively Constance drew Anita with her into the shadow of a +hedge that set off the house from that next to it. + +There was no fence cutting it off from the sidewalk, but at the corner +of the plot a large bush stood. In this bower they were perfectly +hidden in the shadow. + +Hour after hour they waited, watching that light in the library, +speculating what it was he was reading, while Anita, half afraid to +talk, wondered what it was that Constance had in mind. + +Finally the light in the library winked out and the house was in +darkness. + +Midnight passed, and with it the last belated suburbanite. + +At last, when the moon had disappeared under some clouds, Constance +pulled Anita gently along up the lawn. + +There was no sign of life about the house, yet Constance observed all +the caution she would have if it had been well guarded. + +Quickly they advanced over the open space to the cottage, approaching +in the shadow as much as possible. + +Tiptoeing over the porch, Constance tried a window, the window through +which had shown the tantalizing light. It was fastened. + +Without hesitation she pulled out the long steel bar with the twisted +head, and began to insert the sharp end between the sashes. + +"Aren't--you--afraid?" chattered her companion. + +"No," she whispered, not looking up from her work. "You know, most +persons don't know enough about jimmies. Against them an ordinary door +lock or window catch is no protection at all. Why, with this jimmy, +even a woman can exert a pressure of a ton or so. Not one catch in a +thousand can stand it--certainly not this one." + +Constance continued to work, muffling the lever as much as possible in +a piece of felt. + +At last a quick wrench and the catch yielded. + +The only thing wrong about it was the noise. There had been no wind, no +passing trolley, nothing to conceal it. + +They shrank back into the shadow, and waited breathless. Had it been +heard? Would a window open presently and an alarm be sounded? + +There was not a sound, save the rustle of the leaves in the night wind. + +A few minutes later Constance carefully raised the lower sash and they +stepped softly into the house--once the house over which Anita Douglas +had been mistress. + +Cautiously Constance pressed the button on a little pocket +storage-battery lamp and flashed it slowly about the room. + +All was quiet in the library. The library table was disordered, as if +some one in great stress of mind had been working at it. Anita wondered +what had been the grim thoughts of the man as he pondered on the mass +of stuff, the tissue of falsehoods that the blackmailing detective had +handed to him at such great cost. + +At last the cone of light rested on a little safe at the opposite end. + +"There it is," whispered Anita, pointing, half afraid even of the soft +tones of her own voice. + +Constance had pulled down all the shades quietly, and drew the curtains +tightly between the room and the foyer. + +On the top of the safe she was pouring some of the powder in a neat +pile from one of the vials. + +"What is that?" asked Anita, bending close to her ear. + +"Some powdered metallic aluminum mixed with oxide of iron," whispered +Constance in return. "I read of this thing in a scientific paper the +other day, and I determined to get some of it. But I didn't think I'd +ever really have occasion to use it." + +She added some powder from the other vial. + +"And that?" + +"Magnesium powder." + +Constance had lighted a match. + +"Stand back, Anita," she whispered, "back, Anita," she whispered, "back +in the farthest corner of the room, and keep quiet. Shut your +eyes--turn your face away!" + +There was a flash, blinding, then a steady, brilliant burst of +noiseless, penetrating, burning flame. + +Anita had expected an explosion. Instead she found that her eyes hurt. +She had not closed them tightly quick enough. + +Still, Constance's warning had been sufficient to prevent any damage to +the sight, and she slowly recovered. + +Actually, the burning powder seemed to be sinking into the very steel +of the safe itself, as if it had been mere ice! + +Was it an optical illusion, a freak of her sight? + +"Wh-what is it!" she whispered in awe, drawing closer to her friend. + +"Thermit," whispered Constance in reply, as the two watched the glowing +mass fascinated, "an invention of a German chemist named Goldschmidt. +It will burn a hole right through steel--at a terrific temperature, +three thousand or more degrees." + +The almost burned out mass seemed to fall into the safe as if it had +been a wooden box instead of chrome steel. + +They waited a moment, still blinking, to regain control over their eyes +in spite of the care they had used to shield them. + +Then they tiptoed across the floor. + +In the top of the safe yawned a hole large enough to stick one's hand +and arm through! + +Constance reached into the safe and drew out something on which she +flashed the pocket light. + +There was bundle after bundle of checks, the personal checks of a +methodical business man, carefully preserved. + +Hastily she looked them over. All seemed to be perfectly +straight--payments to tradesmen, to real estate agents, payments of all +sorts, all carefully labeled. + +"Oh, he'd never let anything like that lie around," remarked Anita, as +she began to comprehend what Constance was after. + +Constance was scrutinizing some of the checks more carefully than +others. Suddenly she held one up to the light. Apparently it was in +payment of legal services. + +Quickly she took the little bottle of brownish fluid which she had +brought with the sponge. + +She dipped the sponge in it lightly and brushed it over the check. Then +she leaned forward breathlessly. + +"Eradicating ink is simply a bleaching process," she remarked, "which +leaves the iron of the ink as a white oxide instead of a black oxide. +The proper reagent will restore the original color--partially and at +least for a time. Ah--yes--it is as I thought. There have been erasures +in these checks. Other names have been written in on some of them in +place of those that were originally there. The sulphide of ammonia +ought to bring out anything that is hidden here." + +There, faintly, was the original writing. It read, "Pay to the order +of--Helen Brett--" + +Mrs. Douglas with difficulty restrained an exclamation of anger and +hatred at the mere sight of the name of the other woman. + +"He was careful," remarked Constance. "Reckless at first in giving +checks-he has tried to cover it up. He didn't want to destroy them, yet +he couldn't have such evidence about. So he must have altered the name +on the canceled vouchers after they were returned to him paid by the +bank. Very clever--very." + +Constance reached into the safe again. There were some personal and +some business letters, some old check books, some silver and gold +trinkets and table silver. + +She gave a low exclamation. She had found a packet of letters and a +sheaf of typewritten flimsy tissue paper pages. + +Mrs. Douglas uttered a little cry, quickly suppressed. The letters were +those in her own handwriting addressed to Lynn Munro. + +"Here are Drummond's reports, too," Constance added. + +She looked them hastily over. The damning facts had been massed in a +way that must inevitably have prejudiced any case for the defense that +Mrs. Douglas might set up. + +"There--there's all the evidence against you," whispered Constance +hoarsely, handing it over to Anita. "It's all yours again. Destroy it." + +In her eagerness, with trembling hands, Anita had torn up the whole +mass of incriminating papers and had cast them into the fireplace. She +was just about to strike a match. + +Suddenly there came a deep voice from the stairs. + +"Well--what's all this?" + +Anita dropped the match from her nerveless hands. Constance felt an arm +grasp her tightly. For a moment a chill ran over her at being caught in +the nefarious work of breaking and entering a dwelling-house at night. +The hand was Anita's, but the voice was that of a man. + +Lights flashed all over the house at once, from a sort of electric +light system that could be instantly lighted and would act as a +"burglar expeller." + +It was Douglas himself. He was staring angrily at his wife and the +stranger with her. + +"Well!" he demanded with cold sarcasm. "Why this--this burglary?" + +Before he could quite take in the situation, with a quick motion, +Constance struck a match and touched it to the papers in the fireplace. + +As they blazed up he caught sight of what they were and almost leaped +across the floor. + +Constance laid her hand on his arm. "One moment, Mr. Douglas," she said +quietly. "Look at that!" + +"Who--who the devil are you?" he gasped. "What's all this?" + +"I think," remarked Constance slowly and quietly, "that your wife is +now in a position to prove that you--well, don't come into court with +clean hands, if you attempt to do so. Besides, you know, the courts +rather frown on detectives that practice collusion and conspiracy and +frame up evidence, to say nothing of trying to blackmail the victims. I +thought perhaps you'd prefer not to say anything about this--er--visit +to-night--after you saw that." + +Constance had quietly laid one of the erased checks on the library +table. Again she dipped the sponge into the brownish liquid. Again the +magic touch revealed the telltale name. With her finger she was +pointing to the faintly legible "Helen Brett" on the check as the +sulphide had brought it out. + +Douglas stared-dazed. + +He rubbed his eyes and stared again as the last of the flickering fire +died away. In an instant he realized that it was not a dream, that it +was all a fact. + +He looked from one to the other of the women. + +He was checkmated. + +Constance ostentatiously folded up the erased vouchers. + +"I--I shall not--make any--contest," Douglas managed to gasp huskily. + + + + +CHAPTER XI + +THE DOPE FIENDS + + +"I have a terrible headache," remarked Constance Dunlap to her friend, +Adele Gordon, the petite cabaret singer and dancer of the Mayfair, who +had dropped in to see her one afternoon. + +"You poor, dear creature," soothed Adele. "Why don't you go to see Dr. +Price? He has cured me. He's splendid--splendid." + +Constance hesitated. Dr. Moreland Price was a well-known physician. All +day and even at night, she knew, automobiles and cabs rolled up to his +door and their occupants were, for the most part, stylishly gowned +women. + +"Oh, come on," urged Adele. "He doesn't charge as highly as people seem +to think. Besides, I'll go with you and introduce you, and he'll charge +only as he does the rest of us in the profession." + +Constance's head throbbed frantically. She felt that she must have some +relief soon. "All right," she agreed, "I'll go with you, and thank you, +Adele." + +Dr. Price's office was on the first floor of the fashionable Recherche +Apartments, and, as she expected, Constance noted a line of motor cars +before it. + +They entered and were admitted to a richly furnished room, in mahogany +and expensive Persian rugs, where a number of patients waited. One +after another an attendant summoned them noiselessly and politely to +see the doctor, until at last the turn of Constance and Adele came. + +Dr. Price was a youngish, middle-aged man, tall, with a sallow +countenance and a self-confident, polished manner which went a long way +in reassuring the patients, most of whom were ladies. + +As they entered the doctor's sanctum behind the folding doors, Adele +seemed to be on very good terms indeed with him. + +They seated themselves in the deep leather chairs beside Dr. Price's +desk, and he inclined his head to listen to the story of their ailments. + +"Doctor," began Constance's introducer, "I've brought my friend, Mrs. +Dunlap, who is suffering from one of those awful headaches. I thought +perhaps you could give her some of that medicine that has done me so +much good." + +The doctor bowed without saying anything and shifted his eyes from +Adele to Constance. "Just what seems to be the difficulty?" he inquired. + +Constance told him how she felt, of her general lassitude and the big, +throbbing veins in her temples. + +"Ah--a woman's headaches!" he smiled, adding, "Nothing serious, +however, in this case, as far as I can see. We can fix this one all +right, I think." + +He wrote out a prescription quickly and handed it to Constance. + +"Of course," he added, as he pocketed his fee, "it makes no difference +to me personally, but I would advise that you have it filled at +Muller's--Miss Gordon knows the place. I think Muller's drugs are +perhaps fresher than those of most druggists, and that makes a great +deal of difference." + +He had risen and was politely and suavely bowing them out of another +door, at the same time by pressing a button signifying to his attendant +to admit the next patient. + +Constance had preceded Adele, and, as she passed through the other +door, she overheard the doctor whisper to her friend, "I'm going to +stop for you to-night to take a ride. I have something important I want +to say to you." + +She did not catch Adele's answer, but as they left the marble and onyx, +brass-grilled entrance, Adele remarked: "That's his car--over there. +Oh, but he is a reckless driver--dashes along pell-mell--but always +seems to have his eye out for everything--never seems to be arrested, +never in an accident." + +Constance turned in the direction of the car and was startled to see +the familiar face of Drummond across the street dodging behind it. What +was it now, she wondered--a divorce case, a scandal--what? + +The medicine was made up into little powders, to be taken until they +gave relief, and Constance folded the paper of one, poured it on the +back of her tongue and swallowed a glass of water afterward. + +Her head continued to throb, but she felt a sense of well-being that +she had not before. Adele urged her to take another, and Constance did +so. + +The second powder increased the effect of the first marvelously. But +Constance noticed that she now began to feel queer. She was not used to +taking medicine. For a moment she felt that she was above, beyond the +reach of ordinary rules and laws. She could have done any sort of +physical task, she felt, no matter how difficult. She was amazed at +herself, as compared to what she had been only a few moments before. + +"Another one?" asked Adele finally. + +Constance was by this time genuinely alarmed at the sudden unwonted +effect on herself. "N-no," she replied dubiously, "I don't think I want +to take any more, just yet." + +"Not another?" asked Adele in surprise. "I wish they would affect me +that way. Sometimes I have to take the whole dozen before they have any +effect." + +They chatted for a few minutes, and finally Adele rose. + +"Well," she remarked with a nervous twitching of her body, as if she +were eager to be doing something, "I really must be going. I can't say +I feel any too well myself." + +"I think I'll take a walk with you," answered Constance, who did not +like the continued effect of the two powders. "I feel the need of +exercise--and air." + +Adele hesitated, but Constance already had her hat on. She had seen +Drummond watching Dr. Price's door, and it interested her to know +whether he could possibly have been following Adele or some one else. + +As they walked along Adele quickened her pace, until they came again to +the drug store. + +"I believe I'll go in and get something," she remarked, pausing. + +For the first time in several minutes Constance looked at the face of +her friend. She was amazed to discover that Adele looked as if she had +had a spell of sickness. Her eyes were large and glassy, her skin cold +and sweaty, and she looked positively pallid and thin. + +As they entered the store Muller, the druggist, bowed again and looked +at Adele a moment as she leaned over the counter and whispered +something to him. Without a word he went into the arcana behind the +partition that cuts off the mysteries of the prescription room in every +drug store from the front of the store. + +When Muller returned he handed her a packet, for which she paid and +which she dropped quickly into her pocketbook, hugging the pocketbook +close to herself. + +Adele turned and was about to hurry from the store with Constance. "Oh, +excuse me," she said suddenly as if she had just recollected something, +"I promised a friend of mine I'd telephone this afternoon, and I have +forgotten to do it. I see a pay station here." Constance waited. + +Adele returned much quicker than one would have expected she could call +up a number, but Constance thought nothing of it at the time. She did +notice, however, that as her friend emerged from the booth a most +marvelous change had taken place in her. Her step was firm, her eye +clear, her hand steady. Whatever it was, reasoned Constance, it could +not have been serious to have disappeared so quickly. + +It was with some curiosity as to just what she might expect that +Constance went around to the famous cabaret that night. The Mayfair +occupied two floors of what had been a wide brownstone house before +business and pleasure had crowded the residence district further and +further uptown. It was a very well-known bohemian rendezvous, where +under-, demi-and upper-world rubbed elbows without friction and seemed +to enjoy the novelty and be willing to pay for it. + +Adele, who was one of the performers, had not arrived yet, but +Constance, who had come with her mind still full of the two unexpected +encounters with Drummond, was startled to see him here again. +Fortunately he did not see her, and she slipped unobserved into an +angle near the window overlooking the street. + +Drummond had been engrossed in watching some one already there, and +Constance made the best use she could of her eyes to determine who it +was. The outdoor walk and a good dinner had checked her headache, and +now the excitement of the chase of something, she knew not what, +completed the cure. + +It was not long before she discovered that Drummond was watching +intently, without seeming to do so, a nervous-looking fellow whose +general washed-out appearance of face was especially unattractive for +some reason or other. He was very thin, very pale, and very stary about +the eyes. Then, too, it seemed as if the bone in his nose was going, +due perhaps to the shrinkage of the blood vessels from some cause. + +Constance noticed a couple of girls whom she had seen Adele speak to on +several other occasions approaching the young man. + +There came an opportune lull in the music and from around the corner of +her protecting angle Constance could just catch the greeting of one of +the girls, "Hello, Sleighbells! Got any snow!" + +It was a remark that seemed particularly malapropos to the sultry +weather, and Constance half expected a burst of laughter at the +unexpected sally. + +Instead, she was surprised to hear the young man reply in a very +serious and matter-of-fact manner, "Sure. Got any money, May?" + +She craned her neck, carefully avoiding coming into Drummond's line of +vision, and as she did so she saw two silver quarters gleam momentarily +from hand to hand, and the young man passed each girl stealthily a +small white paper packet. + +Others came to him, both men and women. It seemed to be an established +thing, and Constance noted that Drummond watched it all covertly. + +"Who is that?" asked Constance of the waiter who had served her +sometimes when she had been with Adele, and knew her. + +"Why, they call him Sleighbells Charley," he replied, "a coke fiend." + +"Which means a cocaine fiend, I suppose!" she queried. + +"Yes. He's a lobbygow for the grapevine system they have now of selling +the dope in spite of this new law." + +"Where does he get the stuff!" she asked. + +The waiter shrugged his shoulders. "Nobody knows, I guess. I don't. But +he gets it in spite of the law and peddles it. Oh, it's all +adulterated--with some white stuff, I don't know what, and the price +they charge is outrageous. They must make an ounce retail at five or +six times the cost. Oh, you can bet that some one who is at the top is +making a pile of money out of that graft, all right." + +He said it not with any air of righteous indignation, but with a +certain envy. + +Constance was thinking the thing over in her mind. Where did the "coke" +come from? The "grapevine" system interested her. + +"Sleighbells" seemed to have disposed of all the "coke" he had brought +with him. As the last packet went, he rose slowly, and shuffled out. +Constance, who knew that Adele would not come for some time, determined +to follow him. She rose quietly and, under cover of a party going out, +managed to disappear without, as far as she knew, letting Drummond +catch a glimpse of her. This would not only employ her time, but it was +better to avoid Drummond as far as possible, at present, too, she felt. + +At a distance of about half a block she followed the curiously +shuffling figure. He crossed the avenue, turned and went uptown, turned +again, and, before she knew it, disappeared in a drug store. She had +been so engrossed in following the lobbygow that it was with a start +that she realized that he had entered Muller's. + +What did it all mean? Was the druggist, Muller, the man higher up? She +recalled suddenly her own experience of the afternoon. Had Muller tried +to palm off something on her? The more she thought of it the more sure +she was that the powders she had taken had been doped. + +Slowly, turning the matter over in her mind, she returned to the +Mayfair. As she peered in cautiously before entering she saw that +Drummond had gone. Adele had not come in yet, and she went in and sat +down again in her old place. + +Perhaps half an hour later, outside, she heard a car drive up with a +furious rattle of gears. She looked out of the window and, as far as +she could determine in the shadows, it was Dr. Price. A woman got out, +Adele. For a moment she stopped to talk, then Dr. Price waved a gay +good-bye and was off. All she could catch was a hasty, "No; I don't +think I'd better come in to-night," from him. + +As Adele entered the Mayfair she glanced about, caught sight of +Constance and came and sat down by her. + +It would have been impossible for her to enter unobserved, so popular +was she. It was not long before the two girls whom Constance had seen +dealing with "Sleighbells" sauntered over. + +"Your friend was here to-night," remarked one to Adele. + +"Which one?" laughed Adele. + +"The one who admired your dancing the other night and wanted to take +lessons." + +"You mean the young fellow who was selling something?" asked Constance +pointedly. + +"Oh, no," returned the girl quite casually. "That was Sleighbells," and +they all laughed. + +Constance thought immediately of Drummond. "The other one, then," she +said, "the thick-set man who was all alone!" + +"Yes; he went away afterward. Do you know him?" + +"I've seen him somewhere," evaded Constance; "but I just can't quite +place him." + +She had not noticed Adele particularly until now. Under the light she +had a peculiar worn look, the same as she had had before. + +The waiter came up to them. "Your turn is next," he hinted to Adele. + +"Excuse me a minute," she apologized to the rest of the party. "I must +fix up a bit. No," she added to Constance, "don't come with me." + +She returned from the dressing room a different person, and plunged +into the wild dance for which the limited orchestra was already tuning +up. It was a veritable riot of whirl and rhythm. Never before had +Constance seen Adele dance with such abandon. As she executed the wild +mazes of a newly imported dance, she held even the jaded Mayfair +spellbound. And when she concluded with one daring figure and sat down, +flushed and excited, the diners applauded and even shouted approval. It +was an event for even the dance-mad Mayfair. + +Constance did not share in the applause. At last she understood. Adele +was a dope fiend, too. She felt it with a sense of pain. Always, she +knew, the fiends tried to get away alone somewhere for a few minutes to +snuff some of their favorite nepenthe. She had heard before of the +cocaine "snuffers" who took a little of the deadly powder, placed it on +the back of the hand, and inhaled it up the nose with a quick intake of +breath. Adele was one. It was not Adele who danced. It was the dope. + +Constance was determined to speak. + +"You remember that man the girls spoke of?" she began. + +"Yes. What of him?" asked Adele with almost a note of defiance. + +"Well, I really DO know him," confessed Constance. "He is a detective." + +Constance watched her companion curiously, for at the mere word she had +stopped short and faced her. "He is?" she asked quickly. "Then that was +why Dr. Price--" + +She managed to suppress the remark and continued her walk home without +another word. + +In Adele's little apartment Constance was quick to note that the same +haggard look had returned to her friend's face. + +Adele had reached for her pocketbook with a sort of clutching eagerness +and was about to leave the room. + +Constance rose. "Why don't you give up the stuff?" she asked earnestly. +"Don't you want to?" + +For a moment Adele faced her angrily. Then her real nature seemed +slowly to come to the surface. "Yes," she murmured frankly. + +"Then why don't you?" pleaded Constance. + +"I haven't the power. There is an indescribable excitement to do +something great, to make a mark. It's soon gone, but while it lasts, I +can sing, dance, do anything--and then--every part of my body begins +crying for more of the stuff again." + +There was no longer any necessity of concealment from Constance. She +took a pinch of the stuff, placed it on the back of her wrist and +quickly sniffed it. The change in her was magical. From a quivering +wretched girl she became a self-confident neurasthenic. + +"I don't care," she laughed hollowly now. + +"Yes, I know what you are going to tell me. Soon I'll be 'hunting the +cocaine bug,' as they call it, imagining that in my skin, under the +flesh, are worms crawling, perhaps see them, see the little animals +running around and biting me." + +She said it with a half-reckless cynicism. "Oh, you don't know. There +are two souls in the cocainist--one tortured by the pain of not having +the stuff, the other laughing and mocking at the dangers of it. It +stimulates. It makes your mind work--without effort, by itself. And it +gives such visions of success, makes you feel able to do so much, and +to forget. All the girls use it." + +"Where do they get it?" asked Constance "I thought the new law +prohibited it." + +"Get it?" repeated Adele. "Why, they get it from that fellow they call +'Sleighbells.' They call it 'snow,' you know, and the girls who use it +'snowbirds.' The law does prohibit its sale, but--" + +She paused significantly. + +"Yes," agreed Constance; "but Sleighbells is only a part of the system +after all. Who is the man at the top?" + +Adele shrugged her shoulders and was silent. Still, Constance did not +fail to note a sudden look of suspicion which Adele shot at her. Was +Adele shielding some one? + +Constance knew that some one must be getting rich from the traffic, +probably selling hundreds of ounces a week and making thousands of +dollars. Somehow she felt a sort of indignation at the whole thing. Who +was it? Who was the man higher up? + +In the morning as she was working about her little kitchenette an idea +came to her. Why not hire the vacant apartment cross the hall from +Adele? An optician, who was a friend of hers, in the course of a recent +conversation had mentioned an invention, a model of which he had made +for the inventor. She would try it. + +Since, with Constance, the outlining of a plan was tantamount to the +execution, it was not many hours later before she had both the +apartment and the model of the invention. + +Her wall separated her from the drug store and by careful calculation +she determined about where came the little prescription department. +Carefully, so as to arouse no suspicion, she began to bore away at the +wall with various tools, until finally she had a small, almost +imperceptible opening. It was tedious work, and toward the end needed +great care so as not to excite suspicion. But finally she was rewarded. +Through it she could see just a trace of daylight, and by squinting +could see a row of bottles on a shelf opposite. + +Then, through the hole, she pushed a long, narrow tube, like a putty +blower. When at last she placed her eye at it, she gave a low +exclamation of satisfaction. She could now see the whole of the little +room. + +It was a detectascope, invented by Gaillard Smith, adapter of the +detectaphone, an instrument built up on the principle of the cytoscope +which physicians use to explore internally down the throat. Only, in +the end of the tube, instead of an ordinary lens, was placed what is +known as a "fish-eye" lens, which had a range something like nature has +given the eyes of fishes, hence the name. Ordinarily cameras, because +of the flatness of their lenses, have a range of only a few degrees, +the greatest being scarcely more than ninety. But this lens was +globular, and, like a drop of water, refracted light from all +directions. When placed so that half of it caught the light it "saw" +through an angle of 180 degrees, "saw" everything in the room instead +of just that little row of bottles on the shelf opposite. + +Constance set herself to watch, and it was not long before her +suspicions were confirmed, and she was sure that this was nothing more +than a "coke" joint. Still she wondered whether Muller was the real +source of the traffic of which Sleighbells was the messenger. She was +determined to find out. + +All day she watched through her detectascope. Once she saw Adele come +in and buy more dope. It was with difficulty that she kept from +interfering. But, she reflected, the time was not ripe. She had thought +the thing out. There was no use in trying to get at it through Adele. +The only way was to stop the whole curse at its source, to dam the +stream. People came and went. She soon found that he was selling them +packets from a box hidden in the woodwork. That much she had learned, +anyhow. + +Constance watched faithfully all day with only time enough taken out +for dinner. It was after her return from this brief interval that she +felt her heart give a leap of apprehension, as she looked again through +the detectascope. There was Drummond in the back of the store talking +to Muller and a woman who looked as if she might be Mrs. Muller, for +both, seemed nervous and anxious. + +As nearly as she could make out, Drummond was alternately threatening +and arguing with Muller. Finally the three seemed to agree, for +Drummond walked over to a typewriter on a table, took a fresh sheet of +carbon paper from a drawer, placed it between two sheets of paper, and +hastily wrote something. + +Drummond read over what he had written. It seemed to be short, and the +three apparently agreed on it. Then, in a trembling hand, Muller signed +the two copies which Drummond had made, one of which Drummond himself +kept and the other he sealed in an envelope and sent away by a boy. +Drummond reached into his pocket and pulled out a huge roll of bills of +large denomination. He counted out what seemed to be approximately +half, handed it to the woman, and replaced the rest in his pocket. What +it was all about Constance could only vaguely guess. She longed to know +what was in the letter and why the money had been paid to the woman. + +Perhaps a quarter of an hour after Drummond left Adele appeared again, +pleading for more dope. Muller went back of the partition and made up a +fresh paper of it from a bottle also concealed. + +Constance was torn by conflicting impulses. She did not want to miss +anything in the perplexing drama that was being enacted before her, yet +she wished to interfere with the deadly course of Adele. Still, perhaps +the girl would resent interference if she found out that Constance was +spying on her. She determined to wait a little while before seeing +Adele. It was only after a decided effort that she tore herself away +from the detectascope and knocked on Adele's door as if she had just +come in for a visit. Again she knocked, but still there was no answer. +Every minute something might be happening next door. She hurried back +to her post of observation. + +One of the worst aspects of the use of cocaine, she knew, was the +desire of the user to share his experience with some one else. The +passing on of the habit, which seemed to be one of the strongest +desires of the drug fiend, made him even more dangerous to society than +he would otherwise have been. That thought gave Constance an idea. + +She recalled also now having heard somewhere that it was a common +characteristic of these poor creatures to have a passion for fast +automobiling, to go on long rides, perhaps even without having the +money to pay for them. That, too, confirmed the idea which she had. + +As the night advanced she determined to stick to her post. What could +it have been that Drummond was doing? It was no good, she felt positive. + +Suddenly before her eye, glued to its eavesdropping aperture, she saw a +strange sight. There was a violent commotion in the store. Blue-coated +policemen seemed to swarm in from nowhere. And in the rear, directing +them, appeared Drummond, holding by the arm the unfortunate +Sleighbells, quaking with fear, evidently having been picked up already +elsewhere by the wily detective. + +Muller put up a stout resistance, but the officers easily seized him +and, after a hasty but thorough search, unearthed his cache of the +contraband drug. + +As the scene unfolded, Constance was more and more bewildered after +having witnessed that which preceded it, the signing of the letter and +the passing of the money. Muller evidently had nothing to say about +that. What did it mean? + +The police were still holding Muller, and Constance had not noted that +Drummond had disappeared. + +"It's on the first floor--left, men," sounded a familiar voice outside +her own door. "I know she's there. My shadow saw her buy the dope and +take it home." + +Her heart was thumping wildly. It was Drummond leading his squad of +raiders, and they were about to enter the apartment of Adele. They +knocked, but there was no answer. + +A few moments before Constance would have felt perfectly safe in saying +that Adele was out. But if Drummond's man had seen her enter, might she +not have been there all the time, be there still, in a stupor? She +dreaded to think of what might happen if the poor girl once fell into +their hands. It would be the final impulse that would complete her ruin. + +Constance did not stop to reason it out. Her woman's intuition told her +that now was the time to act--that there was no retreat. + +She opened her own door just as the raiders had forced in the flimsy +affair that guarded the apartment of Adele. + +"So!" sneered Drummond, catching sight of her in the dim light of the +hallway. "You are mixed up in these violations of the new drug law, +too!" + +Constance said nothing. She had determined first to make Drummond +display his hand. + +"Well," he ground out, "I'm going to get these people this time. I +represent the Medical Society and the Board of Health. These men have +been assigned to me by the Commissioner as a dope squad. We want this +girl. We have others who will give evidence; but we want this one, too." + +He said it with a bluster that even exaggerated the theatrical +character of the raid itself. Constance did not stop to weigh the value +of his words, but through the door she brushed quickly. Adele might +need her if she was indeed there. + +As she entered the little living-room she saw a sight which almost +transfixed her. Adele was there--lying across a divan, motionless. + +Constance bent over. Adele was cold. As far as she could determine +there was not a breath or a heart beat! + +What did it mean? She did not stop to think. Instantly there flashed +over her the recollection of an instrument she had read about at one of +the city hospitals, It might save Adele. Before any one knew what she +was doing she had darted to the telephone in the lower hall of the +apartment and had called up the hospital frantically, imploring them to +hurry. Adele must be saved. + +Constance had no very clear idea of what happened next in the +hurly-burly of events, until the ambulance pulled up at the door and +the white-coated surgeon burst in carrying a heavy suitcase. + +With one look at the unfortunate girl he muttered, "Paralysis of the +respiratory organs--too large a dose of the drug. You did perfectly +right," and began unpacking the case. + +Constance, calm now in the crisis, stood by him and helped as deftly as +could any nurse. + +It was a curious arrangement of tubes and valves, with a large rubber +bag, and a little pump that the doctor had brought. Quickly he placed a +cap, attached to it, over the nose and mouth of the poor girl, and +started the machine. + +"Wh-what is it?" gasped Drummond as he saw Adele's hitherto motionless +breast now rise and fall. + +"A pulmotor," replied the doctor, working quickly and carefully, "an +artificial lung. Sometimes it can revive even the medically dead. It is +our last chance with this girl." + +Constance had picked up the packet which had fallen beside Adele and +was looking at the white powder. + +"Almost pure cocaine," remarked the young surgeon, testing it. "The +hydrochloride, large crystals, highest quality. Usually it is +adulterated. Was she in the habit of taking it this way?" + +Constance said nothing. She had seen Muller make up the +packet--specially now, she recalled. Instead of the adulterated dope he +had given Adele the purest kind. Why? Was there some secret he wished +to lock in her breast forever? + +Mechanically the pulmotor pumped. Would it save her? + +Constance was living over what she had already seen through the +detectascope. Suddenly she thought of the strange letter and of the +money. + +She hurried into the drug store. Muller had already been taken away, +but before the officer left in charge could interfere she picked up the +carbon sheet on which the letter had been copied, turned it over and +held it eagerly to the light. + +She read in amazement. It was a confession. In it Muller admitted to +Dr. Moreland Price that he was the head of a sort of dope trust, that +he had messengers out, like Sleighbells, that he had often put dope in +the prescriptions sent him by the doctor, and had repeatedly violated +the law and refilled such prescriptions. On its face it was complete +and convincing. + +Yet it did not satisfy Constance. She could not believe that Adele had +committed suicide. Adele must possess some secret. What was it? + +"Is--is there any change?" she asked anxiously of the young surgeon now +engrossed in his work. + +For answer he merely nodded to the apparently motionless form on the +bed, and for a moment stopped the pulmotor. + +The mechanical movement of the body ceased. But in its place was a +slight tremor about the lips and mouth. + +Adele moved--was faintly gasping for breath! + +"Adele!" cried Constance softly in her ear. "Adele!" + +Something, perhaps a far-away answer of recognition, seemed to flicker +over her face. The doctor redoubled his efforts. + +"Adele--do you know me?" whispered Constance again. + +"Yes," came back faintly at last. "There--there's something--wrong with +it--They--they--" + +"How? What do you mean?" urged Constance. "Tell me, Adele." + +The girl moved uneasily. The doctor administered a stimulant and she +vaguely opened her eyes, began to talk hazily, dreamily. Constance bent +over to catch the faint words which would have been lost to the others. + +"They--are going to--double cross the Health Department," she murmured +as if to herself, then gathering strength she went on, "Muller and +Sleighbells will be arrested and take the penalty. They have been +caught with the goods, anyhow. It has all been arranged so that the +detective will get his case. Money--will be paid to both of them, to +Muller and the detective, to swing the case and protect him. He made me +do it. I saw the detective, even danced with him and he agreed to do +it. Oh, I would do anything--I am his willing tool when I have the +stuff. But--this time--it was--" She rambled off incoherently. + +"Who made you do it? Who told you?" prompted Constance. "For whom would +you do anything?" + +Adele moaned and clutched Constance's hand convulsively. Constance did +not pause to consider the ethics of questioning a half-unconscious +girl. Her only idea was to get at the truth. + +"Who was it?" she reiterated. + +Adele turned weakly. + +"Dr. Price," she murmured as Constance bent her ear to catch even the +faintest sound. "He told me--all about it--last night--in the car." + +Instantly Constance understood. Adele was the only one outside who held +the secret, who could upset the carefully planned frame-up that was to +protect the real head of the dope trust who had paid liberally to save +his own wretched skin. + +She rose quickly and wheeled about suddenly on Drummond. + +"You will convict Dr. Price also," she said in a low tone. "This girl +must not be dragged down, too. You will leave her alone, and both you +and Mr. Muller will hand over that money to her for her cure of the +habit." + +Drummond started forward angrily, but fell back as Constance added in a +lower but firmer tone, "Or I'll have you all up on a charge of +attempting murder." + +Drummond turned surlily to those of his "dope squad," who remained: + +"You can go, boys," he said brusquely. + +"There's been some mistake here." + + + + +CHAPTER XII + +THE FUGITIVES + + +"Newspaper pictures seldom look like the person they represent," +asserted Lawrence Macey nonchalantly. + +Constance Dunlap looked squarely at the man opposite her at the table, +oblivious to the surroundings. It was a brilliant sight in the great +after-theater rendezvous, the beautiful faces and gowns, the exquisite +music, the bright lights and the gayety. She had chosen this time and +place for a reason. She had hoped that the contrast with what she had +to say would be most marked in its influence on the man. + +"Nevertheless," she replied keenly, "I recognize the picture--as though +you were Bertillon's new 'spoken portrait' of this Graeme Mackenzie." + +She deliberately folded up a newspaper clipping and shoved it into her +hand-bag on a chair beside the table. + +Lawrence Macey met her eye unflinchingly. + +"Suppose," he drawled, "just for the sake of argument, that you are +right. What would you do?" + +Constance looked at the unruffled exterior of the man. With her keen +perception she knew that it covered just as calm an interior. He would +have said the same thing if she had been a real detective, had walked +up behind him suddenly in the subway crush, had tapped his shoulder, +and whispered, "You're wanted." + +"We are dealing with facts, not suppositions," she replied evasively. + +Momentarily, a strange look passed over Macey's face. What was she +driving at--blackmail? He could not think so, even though he had only +just come to know Constance. He rejected the thought before it was half +formed. + +"Put it as you please," he persisted. "I am, then, this Graeme +Mackenzie who has decamped from Omaha with half a million--it is half a +million in the article, is it not?--of cash and unregistered stocks and +bonds. Now what would you do?" + +Constance felt unconsciously the shift which he had skilfully made in +their positions. Instead of being the pursuer, she was now the pursued, +at least in their conversation. He had admitted nothing of what her +quick intuition told her. + +Yet she felt an admiration for the sang-froid of Macey. She felt a +spell thrown over her by the magnetic eyes that seemed to search her +own. They were large eyes, the eyes of a dreamer, rather than of a +practical man, eyes of a man who goes far and travels long with the +woman on whom he fixes them solely. + +"You haven't answered my hypothetical question," he reminded her. + +She brought herself back with a start. "I was only thinking," she +murmured. + +"Then there is doubt in your mind what you would do?" + +"N--no," she hesitated. + +He bent over nearer across the table. "You would at least recall the +old adage, 'Do unto others as you would that they should do unto you'?" +he urged. + +It was uncanny, the way this man read her thoughts. + +"You know whom they say quotes scripture," she avoided. + +"And am I a--a devil?" + +"I did not say so." + +"You hinted it." + +She had. But she said, "No, nor hinted it." + +"Then you did not MEAN to hint it?" + +She looked away a moment at the gay throng. "Graeme Mackenzie," she +said, slowly, "what's the use of all this beating about? Why cannot we +be frank with one another?" + +She paused, then resumed, meditatively, "A long time ago I became +involved with a man in a scheme to forge checks. I would have done +anything for him, anything." + +A cloud passed over his face. She saw it, had been watching for it, but +appeared not to do so. His was a nature to brook no rivalry. + +"My husband had become involved in extravagances for which I was to +blame," she went on. + +The cloud settled, and in its place came a look of intense relief. He +was like most men. Whatever his own morals, he demanded a high standard +in her. + +"We formed an amateur partnership in crime," she hurried on. "He lost +his life, was unable to stand up against the odds, while he was alone, +away from me. Since then I have been helping those who have become +involved, on the wrong side, with the law. There," she concluded +simply, "I have put myself in your power. I have admitted my part in +something that, try as they would, they could never connect me with. I +have done it because--because I want to help you. Be as frank with me." + +He eyed her keenly again. The appeal was irresistible. + +"I can tell you Graeme Mackenzie's story," he began carefully. "Six +months ago there was a young man in Omaha who had worked faithfully for +a safe deposit company for years. He was getting eighty-five dollars a +month. That is more than it seems to you here in New York. But it was +very little for what he did. Why, as superintendent of the safe deposit +vaults he had helped to build up that part of the trust company's +business to such an extent that he knew he deserved more. + +"Now, a superintendent of a safe deposit vault has lots of chances. +Sometimes depositors give him their keys to unlock their boxes for +them. It is a simple thing to make an impression in wax or chewing gum +palmed in the hand. Or he has access to a number of keys of unrented +boxes; he can, as opportunity offers, make duplicates, and then when +the boxes are rented, he has a key. Even if the locks of unrented boxes +are blanks, set by the first insertion of the key chosen at random, he +can still do the same thing. And even if it takes two to get at the +idle keys, himself and another trusted employe, he can get at them, if +he is clever, without the other officer knowing it, though it may be +done almost before his eyes. You see, it all comes down to the honesty +of the man." + +He paused. Constance was fascinated at the coolness with which this man +had gone to work, and with which he told of it. + +"This superintendent earned more than he received. He deserved it. But +when he asked for a raise, they told him he was lucky to keep the +job,--they reduced him, instead, to seventy-five dollars. He was angry +at the stinging rebuke. He determined to make them smart, to show them +what he could do. + +"One noon he went out to lunch and--they have been looking for him ever +since. He had taken half a million in cash, stocks, and bonds, +unregistered and hence easily hypothecated and traded on." + +"And his motive?" she asked. + +He looked at her long and earnestly as if making up his mind to +something. "I think," he replied, "I wanted revenge quite as much as +the money." + +He said it slowly, measured, as if realizing that there was now nothing +to be gained by concealment from her, as if only he wanted to put +himself in the best light with the woman who had won from him his +secret. It was his confession! + +Acquaintances with Constance ripened fast into friendships. She had +known Macey, as he called himself, only a fortnight. He had been +introduced to her at a sort of Bohemian gathering, had talked to her, +direct, as she liked a man to talk. He had seen her home that night, +had asked to call, and on the other nights had taken her to the theater +and to supper. + +Delicately unconsciously, a bond of friendship had grown up between +them. She felt that he was a man vibrating with physical and mental +power, long latent, which nothing but a strong will held in check, a +man by whom she could be fascinated, yet of whom she was just a little +bit afraid. + +With Macey, it would have been difficult to analyze his feelings. He +had found in Constance a woman who had seen the world in all its +phases, yet had come through unstained by what would have drowned some +in the depths of the under-world, or thrust others into the degradation +of the demi-monde, at least. He admired and respected her. He, the +dreamer, saw in her the practical. She, an adventurer in amateur +lawlessness saw in him something kindred at heart. + +And so when a newspaper came to her in which she recognized with her +keen insight Lawrence Macey's face under Graeme Mackenzie's name, and a +story of embezzlement of trust company and other funds from the Omaha +Central Western Trust of half a million, she had not been wholly +surprised. Instead, she felt almost a sense of elation. The man was +neither better nor worse than herself. And he needed help. + +Her mind wandered back to a time, months before, when she had learned +the bitter lesson of what it was to be a legal outcast, and had +determined always to keep within the law, no matter how close to the +edge of things she went. + +Mackenzie continued looking at her, as if waiting for the answer to his +first question. + +"No," she said slowly, "I am not going to hand you over. I never had +any such intention. We are in each other's power. But you cannot go +about openly, even in New York, now. Some one besides myself must have +seen that article." + +Graeme listened blankly. It was true. His fancied security in the city +was over. He had fled to New York because there, in the mass of people, +he could best sink his old identity and take on a new. + +She leaned her head on her hand and her elbow on the table and looked +deeply into his eyes. "Let me take those securities," she said. "I will +be able to do safely what you cannot do." + +Graeme did not seem now to consider the fortune for which he had risked +so much. The woman before him was enough. + +"Will you?" he asked eagerly. + +"I will do with them as I would for myself, better, because--because it +is a trust," she accepted. + +"More than a trust," he added, as he leaned over in turn and in spite +of other diners in the restaurant took her hand. + +There are times when the rest of the critical world and its frigid +opinions are valueless. Constance did not withdraw her hand. Rather she +watched in his eyes the subtle physical change in the man that her very +touch produced, watched and felt a response in herself. + +Quickly she withdrew her hand. "I must go," she said rather hurriedly, +"it is getting late." + +"Constance," he whispered, as he helped her on with her wraps, brushing +the waiter aside that he might himself perform any duty that involved +even touching her, "Constance, I am in your hands--absolutely." + +It had been pleasant to dine with him. It was more pleasant now to feel +her influence and power over him. She knew it, though she only half +admitted it. They seemed for the moment to walk on air, as they +strolled, chatting, out to a taxicab. + +But as the cab drew up before her own apartment, the familiar +associations of even the entrance brought her back to reality suddenly. +He handed her out, and the excitement of the evening was over. She saw +the thing in its true light. This was the beginning, not the end. + +"Graeme," she said, as she lingered for a moment at the door. +"To-morrow we must find a place where you can hide." + +"I may see you, though?" he asked anxiously. + +"Of course. Ring me up in the morning, Graeme. Good-night," and she was +whisked up in the elevator, leaving Mackenzie with a sense of loss and +loneliness. + +"By the Lord," he muttered, as he swung down the street in preference +to taking a cab, "what a woman that is!" + +Together the next day they sought out a place where he could remain +hidden. Mackenzie would have been near her, but Constance knew better. +She chose a bachelor apartment where the tenants never arose before +noon and where night was turned into day. Men would not ask questions. +In an apartment like her own there was nothing but gossip. + +In the daytime he stayed at home. Only at night did he go forth and +then under her direction in the most unfrequented ways. + +Every day Constance went to Wall Street, where she had established +confidential relations with a number of brokers. Together they planned +the campaigns; she executed them with consummate skill and adroitness. + +Constance was amazed. Here was a man who for years had been able to +earn only eighty-five dollars a month and had not seemed to show any +ability. Yet he was able to speculate in Wall Street with such dash +that he seemed to be in a fair way, through her, to accumulate a +fortune. + +One night as they were hurrying back to Graeme's after a walk, they had +to pass a crowd on Broadway. Constance saw a familiar face hurrying by. +It gave her a start. It was Drummond, the detective. He was not, +apparently, looking for her. But then that was his method. He might +have been looking. At any rate it reminded her unpleasantly of the fact +that there were detectives in the world. + +"What's the matter?" asked Graeme, noticing the change in her. + +"I just saw a man I know." + +The old jealousy flushed his face. Constance laughed in spite of her +fears. Indeed, there was something that pleased her in his jealousy. + +"He was the detective who has been hounding me ever since that time I +told you about." + +"Oh," he subsided. But if Drummond had been there, Mackenzie could have +been counted on to risk all to protect her. + +"We must be more careful," she shuddered. + +Constance was startled one evening just as she was going out to meet +Graeme and report on the progress of the day at hearing a knock at her +door. + +She opened it. + +"I suppose you think I am your Nemesis," introduced Drummond, as he +stepped in, veiling the keenness of his search by an attempt to be +familiar. + +She had more than half expected it. She said nothing, but her coldness +was plainly one of interrogation. + +"A case has been placed in my hands by some western clients of ours," +he said by way of swaggering explanation, "of an embezzler who is +hiding in New York. It required no great reasoning power to decide that +the man's trail would sooner or later cross Wall Street. I believe it +has done so--not directly, but indirectly. The trail, I think, has +brought me back to the proverbial point of 'CHERCHEZ LA FEMME.' I am +delighted," he dwelt on the word to see what would be its effect, "to +see in the Graeme Mackenzie case my old friend, Constance Dunlap." + +"So," she replied quietly, "you suspect ME, now. I suppose _I_ am +Graeme Mackenzie." + +"No," Drummond replied dubiously, "you are not Graeme Mackenzie, of +course. You may be Mrs. Graeme Mackenzie, for all I know. But I believe +you are the receiver of Graeme Mackenzie's stolen goods!" + +"You do?" she answered calmly. "That remains for you to prove. Why do +you believe it? Is it because you are ready to believe anything of me!" + +"I have noticed that you are more active downtown than--" + +"Oh, it is because I speculate. Have I no means of my own?" she asked +pointedly. + +"Where is he? Not here, I know. But where?" insinuated Drummond with a +knowing look. + +"Am I my brother's keeper?" she laughed merrily. "Come, now. Who is +this wonderful Graeme Mackenzie? First show me that I know him. You +know the rule in a murder case--you must prove the CORPUS DELICTI." + +Drummond was furious. She was so baffling. That was his weak point and +she had picked it out infallibly. Whatever his suspicions, he had been +able to prove nothing, though he suspected much in the buying and +selling of Constance. + +A week of bitterness, of a constant struggle against the wiles of one +of the most subtle sleuths followed, avoiding hidden traps that beset +her on every side. Was this to be the end of it all? Was Drummond's +heroic effort to entangle her to succeed at last? + +She felt that a watch of the most extraordinary kind was set on her, an +invisible net woven about her. Eyes that never slept were upon her; +there was no minute in her regular haunts that she was not guarded. She +knew it, though she could not see it. + +It was a war of subtle wits. Yet from the beginning Constance was the +winner of every move. She was on her mettle. They would not, she +determined, find Graeme through her. + +Days passed and the detectives still had no sign of the missing man. It +seemed hopeless, but, like all good detectives, Drummond knew from +experience that a clue might come to the surface when it was least +expected. Constance on her part never relaxed. + +One day it was a young woman dressed in most inconspicuous style who +followed close behind her, a woman shadow, one of the shrewdest in the +city. + +A tenant moved into the apartment across the hall from Constance, and +another hired an apartment in the next house, across the court. There +was constant espionage. She seemed to "sense" it. The newcomer was very +neighborly, explaining that her husband was a traveling salesman, and +that she was alone for weeks at a time. + +The lines tightened. The next door neighbor always seemed to be around +at mail time, trying to get a look at the postmarks on the Dunlap +letters. She had an excuse in the number of letters to herself. "Orders +for my husband," she would smile. "He gets lots of them personally +here." + +All their ingenuity went for naught. Constance was not to be caught +that way. + +They tried new tricks. If it was a journey she took, some one went with +her whom she had to shake off sooner or later. There were visits of +peddlers, gas men, electric light and telephone men. They were all +detectives, also, always seeking a chance to make a search that might +reveal her secret. The janitor who collected the waste paper found that +it had a ready sale at a high price. Every stratagem that Drummond's +astute mind could devise was called into play. But nothing, not a scrap +of new evidence did they find. + +Yet all the time Constance was in direct communication with Mackenzie. + +Graeme, in his enforced idleness, was more deeply in love with +Constance now than ever. He had eyes for nothing else. Even his +fortunes would have been disregarded, had he not felt that to do that +would have been the surest way to condemn himself before her. + +They had cut out the evening trips now, for fear of recognition. She +was working faithfully. Already she had cleaned up something like fifty +thousand dollars on the turn over of the stuff he had stolen. Another +week and it would be some thousands more. + +Yet the strain was beginning to show. + +"Oh, Graeme," she cried, one night after she had a particularly hard +time in shaking Drummond's shadows in order to make her unconventional +visit to him, "Graeme, I'm so tired of it all--tired." + +He was about to pour out what was in his own heart when she resumed, +"It's the lonesomeness of it. We are having success. But, what is +success--alone?" + +"Yes," he echoed, thinking of his feeling that night when she had left +him at the elevator, of the feeling now every moment of the time she +was away from him, "yes, alone!" + +With the utmost difficulty he restrained the wildly surging emotions +within him. He could not know with what effort Constance held her poise +so admirably, keeping always that barrier of reserve beyond which now +and then he caught a glimpse. + +"Let us cut out and bury ourselves in Europe," he urged. + +"No," she replied firmly. "Wait. I have a plan. Wait. We could never +get away. They would find us and extradite us surely." + +She was coming out of a broker's office one day after the close of the +market, only to run full tilt into Drummond, who had been waiting for +her, cat-like. Evidently he had a purpose. + +"You will be interested to know," remarked the detective, watching her +narrowly, "that District Attorney Wickham, who had the case in charge +out there, is in New York, with the president of the Central Western +Trust." + +"Yes?" she said non-committally. + +"I told them I was on the trail, through a woman, and they have come +here to aid me." + +Why had he told her that? Was it to put her on her guard or was it in a +spirit of bravado? She could not think so. It was not his style to +bluster at this stage of the game. No, there was a deep-laid purpose. +He expected her to make some move to extricate herself that would +display her hand and betray all. It was clever and a less clever person +than Constance would have fallen before the onslaught. + +Constance was thinking rapidly, as he told her where and how the new +pursuers were active. Here, she felt, was the crisis, her opportunity. + +Scarcely had Drummond gone, than she, too, was hurrying down the street +on her way to see Mackenzie's pursuers face to face. + +She found Wickham registered at the Prince Henry, a new hotel and sent +up her card. A few moments later he received her, with considerable +restraint as if he knew about her and had not expected so soon to have +to show his own hand. + +"I understand," she began quickly, "that you have come to New York +because Mr. Drummond claims to be able to clear up the Graeme Mackenzie +case." + +"Yes?" he replied quizzically. + +"Perhaps," she continued, coming nearer to the point of her +self-imposed mission, "perhaps there may be some other way to settle +this case than through Mr. Drummond." + +"We might hold you," he shot out quickly. + +"No," she replied, "you have nothing on me. And as for Mr. Mackenzie, I +understand, you don't even know where he is--whether he is in New York, +London, Paris, or Berlin, or whether he may not go from one city to +another at any moment you take open action." + +Wickham bit his lip. He knew she was right. Even yet the case hung on +the most slender threads. + +"I have been wondering," she continued, "if there is not some way in +which this thing can be compromised." + +"Never," exclaimed Wickham positively. "He must return the whole sum, +with interest to date. Then and only then can we consider his plea for +clemency." + +"You would consider it?" she asked keenly. + +"Of course. We should have to consider it. Voluntary surrender and +reparation would be something like turning state's witness--against +himself." + +Constance said nothing. + +"Can you do it?" he asked, watching craftily to see whether she might +not drop a hint that might prove valuable. + +"I know those who might try," she answered, catching the look. + +Wickham changed. + +"What if we should get him without your aid!" he blustered. + +"Try," she shrugged. + +Arguments and threats were of no avail with her. She would say nothing +more definite. She was obdurate. + +"You must leave it all to me," she repeated. "I would not betray him. +You cannot prove anything on ME." + +"Bring the stuff up here yourself, then," he insinuated. + +"But I don't trust you, either," she replied frankly. + +The two faced each other. Constance knew in her heart that it was going +to be a battle royal with this man, that now she had taken a step even +so far in the open it was every one for himself and the devil take the +hindmost. + +"I can't help it," he concluded. "Those are the terms. It is as far as +I can trust a--a thief." + +"But I will keep my word," she said quietly. "When you prove to me that +you are absolutely on the level, that Mackenzie can make restitution in +full with interest, and in return be left as free a man as he is at +this moment--why,--I can have him give up." + +"Mrs. Dunlap," said Wickham with an air of finality, "I will make one +concession. I will adopt any method of restitution he may prefer. But +it must be by direct dealing between Mackenzie and myself, with +Drummond present as well as Mr. Taylor, president of the Trust Company, +who is now also in New York. That is my ultimatum. Good-afternoon." + +Constance left the room with flushed face and eyes that glinted with +determination. Over and over she thought out methods to accomplish what +she had planned. When they complied with all the conditions that would +safeguard Mackenzie, she had determined to act. But Graeme must be +master of the situation. + +Cautiously she went through her usual elaborate precautions to shake +off any shadows that might be following her, and an hour later found +her with Mackenzie. + +"What has happened!" he asked eagerly, surprised at her early visit. + +Briefly she ran over the events of the afternoon. "Would you be +willing," she asked, "to go to District Attorney Wickham, hand over the +half million with, say, twelve thousand dollars interest, in return for +freedom?" + +Graeme looked at Constance a moment doubtfully. + +"I would not do that," he measured slowly. "How do I know what they +will do, the moment they get me in their power? No. Almost, I would say +that I would not go there under any guarantee they might give. I do not +trust them. The indictment must be dismissed first." + +"But they won't do that. The ultimatum was personal restitution." + +Constance was faced by an apparently insurmountable dilemma. She saw +and agreed with the reasonableness of Graeme's position. But there was +the opposition and obstinacy of Wickham, the bitterness and +unscrupulousness of Drummond. Here was a tremendous problem. How was +she to meet it? + +For perhaps half an hour they sat in silence. One plan after another +she rejected. + +Suddenly an idea occurred to her. Somewhere, in a bank, she had seen a +method which might meet the difficulty. + +"To-morrow--I will arrange it--to suit both of you," she cried +confidently. + +"How?" he asked. + +"Trust it all to me," she appealed. + +"All," replied Graeme, rising and standing before her. "All. I will do +anything you say." + +He was about to take her hand, but she rose. "No, Graeme. Not now. +There is work--the crisis. No, I must go. Trust me." + +It was not until noon of the next day that he saw Constance again. +There was an air of suppressed excitement about her as she entered the +apartment and placed on a table before him a small oblong box of black +enameled metal, beneath which was a roll of paper. Above was another +somewhat similar box with another roll of paper. + +Constance attached the instrument to the telephone, an enigmatical +conversation followed, and she hung up the receiver. + +A few minutes later, she took the stylus that was in the lower box. +Hastily across the blank paper she wrote the words, "We are ready." + +Mackenzie was too fascinated to ask questions. Suddenly, out of the +corner of his eye, he saw something in the upper box move, as if of +itself. It was a similar, self-inking stylus. + +"Watch!" exclaimed Constance. + +"Do you get this?" wrote the spirit hand. + +"Perfectly," she scrawled in turn. "Go ahead, as you promised." + +The upper stylus was now moving freely at the ends of its two rigid +arms, counterparts of those holding the lower stylus. + +"We promise," it wrote, "that in consideration of the return..." + +"What is it?" interrupted Graeme, as the meaning of the words even now +began to dawn on him. + +"A telautograph," she replied simply, "a long distance writer which I +have had installed over a leased wire from the hotel room of Wickham to +meet the demands of you two. With it you write over wires just as with +the telephone you talk over wires. It is as though you took one of the +old pantagraphs, split it in half, and had each half connected only by +the telephone wires. While you write on this transmitter, their +receiver records for them what you write. Look!" + +"... of $500,000," it continued to write, "in cash, stocks and bonds, +with interest to date, all proceedings against Graeme Mackenzie will be +dropped and the indictment quashed. + +"Marshall Taylor, Pres. Central Western Trust." + +"Maxwell Wickham, District Att'y." + +"Riley Drummond, Detective." + +"It is even broader than I had hoped," cried Constance in delight. +"Does that satisfy you, Graeme?" + +"Y-yes," he murmured, not through hesitation, but from the suddenness +and surprise of the thing. + +"Then sign this." + +She wrote quickly: "In consideration of the dropping of all charges +against me, I agree to tell the number and location of the safe deposit +box in New York where the stocks and bonds I possess are located and to +hand over a key and written order to the same. I now agree immediately +to pay by check the balance of the half million, including interest." + +She stepped aside from the machine. With a tremor of eagerness he +seized the stylus and underneath what she had written wrote boldly the +name, "Graeme Mackenzie." + +Next Constance herself took the stylus. "Place in the telautograph a +blank check," she wrote. "He will write in the name of the bank, the +amount, and the signature." + +She did the same. "Now, Graeme, sign this cheek on the Universal Bank +as Lawrence Macey," she said, writing in the amount. + +Mechanically he took the stylus. His fingers trembled as he held it, +but with an effort he controlled himself. It was too weird, too uncanny +to be true. Here he was, without stirring forth from the security of +his hiding place; there were his pursuers in their hotel. With the +precautions taken by Constance, neither party knew where the other was. +Yet they were in instant touch, not by the ear alone, but by +handwriting itself. + +He placed the stylus on the paper. She had already written in the +number of the check, the date, the bank, the amount, and the payee, +Marshall Taylor. Hastily Graeme signed it, as though in fear that they +might rescind their action before he could finish. + +"Now the securities," she said. "I have withdrawn already the amount we +have made trading--it is a substantial sum. Write out an order to the +Safe Deposit Company to deliver the key and the rest of the contents of +the box to Taylor. I have fixed it with them after a special interview +this morning. They understand." + +Again Graeme wrote, feverishly. + +"I--we--are entirely free from prosecution of any kind?" he asked +eagerly. + +"Yes," Constance murmured, with just a catch in her throat, as now that +the excitement was over, she realized that he was free, independent of +her again. + +The telautograph had stopped. No, it was starting again. Had there been +a slip! Was the dream at last to turn to ashes? They watched anxiously. + +"Mrs. Dunlap," the words unfolded, "I take my hat off to you. You have +put it across again. + +"DRUMMOND." + +Constance read it with a sense of overwhelming relief. It was a +magnanimous thing in Drummond. Almost she forgave him for many of the +bitter hours he had caused in the discharge of his duty. + +As they looked at the writing they realized its import. The detective +had abandoned the long search. It was as though he had put his "O.K." +on the agreement. + +"We are no longer fugitives!" exclaimed Graeme, drawing in a breath +that told of the weight lifted from him. + +For an instant he looked down into her upturned face and read the +conflict that was going on in her. She did not turn away, as she had +before. It flashed over him that once, not long ago, she had talked in +a moment of confidence of the loneliness she had felt since she had +embarked as the rescuer of amateur criminals. + +Graeme bent down and took her hand, as he had the first night when they +had entered their strange partnership. + +"Never--never can I begin to pay you what I owe," he said huskily, his +face near hers. + +He felt her warm breath almost on his cheek, saw the quick color come +into her face, her breast rise and fall with suppressed emotion. Their +eyes met. + +"You need not pay," she whispered. "I am yours." + + + + +THE END + + + + + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Constance Dunlap, by Arthur B. 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Do not change or edit the +header without written permission. + +Please read the "legal small print," and other information about the +eBook and Project Gutenberg at the bottom of this file. Included is +important information about your specific rights and restrictions in +how the file may be used. You can also find out about how to make a +donation to Project Gutenberg, and how to get involved. + + +**Welcome To The World of Free Plain Vanilla Electronic Texts** + +**eBooks Readable By Both Humans and By Computers, Since 1971** + +*****These eBooks Were Prepared By Thousands of Volunteers!***** + + +Title: Constance Dunlap + (The Craig Kennedy Series) + +Author: Arthur B. Reeve + +Release Date: March, 2004 [EBook #5261] +[Yes, we are more than one year ahead of schedule] +[This file was first posted on June 19, 2002] +[Date last updated: July 31, 2005] + +Edition: 10 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK CONSTANCE DUNLAP *** + + + + +Produced by Charles Franks and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team + + + + +THE CRAIG KENNEDY SERIES + +CONSTANCE DUNLAP + +BY + +ARTHUR B. REEVE + + +WITH FRONTISPIECE + + + + +CONTENTS + +CHAPTER + + I THE FORGERS + + II THE EMBEZZLERS + + III THE GUN RUNNERS + + IV THE GAMBLERS + + V THE EAVESDROPPERS + + VI THE CLAIRVOYANTS + + VII THE PLUNGERS + +VIII THE ABDUCTORS + + IX THE SHOPLIFTERS + + X THE BLACKMAILERS + + XI THE DOPE FIENDS + + XII THE FUGITIVES + + + + +CONSTANCE DUNLAP + + + + +CHAPTER I + +THE FORGERS + + +There was something of the look of the hunted animal brought to bay +at last in Carlton Dunlap's face as he let himself into his +apartment late one night toward the close of the year. + +On his breath was the lingering odor of whisky, yet in his eye and +hand none of the effects. He entered quietly, although there was no +apparent reason for such excessive caution. Then he locked the door +with the utmost care, although there was no apparent reason for +caution about that, either. + +Even when he had thus barricaded himself, he paused to listen with +all the elemental fear of the cave man who dreaded the footsteps of +his pursuers. In the dim light of the studio apartment he looked +anxiously for the figure of his wife. Constance was not there, as +she had been on other nights, uneasily awaiting his return. What was +the matter? His hand shook a trifle now as he turned the knob of the +bedroom door and pushed it softly open. + +She was asleep. He leaned over, not realizing that her every faculty +was keenly alive to his presence, that she was acting a part. + +"Throw something around yourself, Constance," he whispered hoarsely +into her ear, as she moved with a little well-feigned start at being +suddenly wakened, "and come into the studio. There is something I +must tell you tonight, my dear." + +"My dear!" she exclaimed bitterly, now seeming to rouse herself with +an effort and pretending to put back a stray wisp of her dark hair +in order to hide from him the tears that still lingered on her +flushed cheeks. "You can say that, Carlton, when it has been every +night the same old threadbare excuse of working at the office until +midnight?" + +She set her face in hard lines, but could not catch his eye. + +"Carlton Dunlap," she added in a tone that rasped his very soul, "I +am nobody's fool. I may not know much about bookkeeping and +accounting, but I can add--and two and two, when the same man but +different women compose each two, do not make four, according to my +arithmetic, but three, from which,"--she finished almost +hysterically the little speech she had prepared, but it seemed to +fall flat before the man's curiously altered manner--"from which I +shall subtract one." + +She burst into tears. + +"Listen," he urged, taking her arm gently to lead her to an easy- +chair. + +"No, no, no!" she cried, now thoroughly aroused, with eyes that +again snapped accusation and defiance at him, "don't touch me. Talk +to me, if you want to, but don't, don't come near me." She was now +facing him, standing in the high-ceilinged "studio," as they called +the room where she had kept up in a desultory manner for her own +amusement the art studies which had interested her before her +marriage. "What is it that you want to say? The other nights you +said nothing at all. Have you at last thought up an excuse? I hope +it is at least a clever one." + +"Constance," he remonstrated, looking fearfully about. Instinctively +she felt that her accusation was unjust. Not even that had dulled +the hunted look in his face. "Perhaps--perhaps if it were that of +which you suspect me, we could patch it up. I don't know. But, +Constance, I--I must leave for the west on the first train in the +morning." He did not pause to notice her startled look, but raced +on. "I have worked every night this week trying to straighten out +those accounts of mine by the first of the year and--and I can't do +it. An expert begins on them in a couple of days. You must call up +the office to-morrow and tell them that I am ill, tell them +anything. I must get at least a day or two start before they--" + +"Carlton," she interrupted, "what is the matter? What have you--" + +She checked herself in surprise. He had been fumbling in his pocket +and now laid down a pile of green and yellow banknotes on the table. + +"I have scraped together every last cent I can spare," he continued, +talking jerkily to suppress his emotion. "They cannot take those +away from you, Constance. And--when I am settled--in a new life," he +swallowed hard and averted his eyes further from her startled gaze, +"under a new name, somewhere, if you have just a little spot in your +heart that still responds to me, I--I--no, it is too much even to +hope. Constance, the accounts will not come out right because I am-- +I am an embezzler." + +He bit off the word viciously and then sank his head into his hands +and bowed it to a depth that alone could express his shame. + +Why did she not say something, do something? Some women would have +fainted. Some would have denounced him. But she stood there and he +dared not look up to read what was written in her face. He felt +alone, all alone, with every man's hand against him, he who had +never in all his life felt so or had done anything to make him feel +so before. He groaned as the sweat of his mental and physical agony +poured coldly out on his forehead. All that he knew was that she was +standing there, silent, looking him through and through, as cold as +a statue. Was she the personification of justice? Was this but a +foretaste of the ostracism of the world? + +"When we were first married, Constance," he began sadly, "I was only +a clerk for Green & Co., at two thousand a year. We talked it over. +I stayed and in time became cashier at five thousand. But you know +as well as I that five thousand does not meet the social obligations +laid on us by our position in the circle in which we are forced to +move." + +His voice had become cold and hard, but he did not allow himself to +be betrayed into adding, as he might well have done in justice to +himself, that to her even a thousand dollars a month would have been +only a beginning. It was not that she had be accustomed to so much +in the station of life from which he had taken her. The plain fact +was that New York had had an over-tonic effect on her. + +"You were not a nagging woman, Constance," he went on in a somewhat +softened tone. "In fact you have been a good wife; you have never +thrown it up to me that I was unable to make good to the degree of +many of our friends in purely commercial lines. All you have ever +said is the truth. A banking house pays low for its brains. My God!" +he cried stiffening out in the chair and clenching his fists, "it +pays low for its temptations, too." + +There had been nothing in the world Carlton would not have given to +make happy the woman who stood now, leaning on the table in cold +silence, with averted head, regarding neither him nor the pile of +greenbacks. + +"Hundreds of thousands of dollars passed through my hands every +week," he resumed. "That business owed me for my care of it. It was +taking the best in me and in return was not paying what other +businesses paid for the best in other men. When a man gets thinking +that way, with a woman whom he loves as I love you--something +happens." + +He paused in the bitterness of his thoughts. She moved as if to +speak. "No, no," he interrupted. "Hear me out first. All I asked was +a chance to employ a little of the money that I saw about me--not to +take it, but to employ it for a little while, a few days, perhaps +only a few hours. Money breeds money. Why should I not use some of +this idle money to pay me what I ought to have? + +"When Mr. Green was away last summer I heard some inside news about +a certain stock, go it happened that I began to juggle the accounts. +It is too long a story to tell how I did it. Anybody in my position +could have done it--for a time. It would not interest you anyhow. +But I did it. The first venture was successful. Also the spending of +the money was very successful, in its way. That was the money that +took us to the fashionable hotel in Atlantic City where we met so +many people. Instead of helping me, it got me in deeper. + +"When the profit from this first deal was spent there was nothing to +do but to repeat what I had done successfully before. I could not +quit now. I tried again, a little hypothecation of some bonds. +Stocks went down. I had made a bad bet and five thousand dollars was +wiped out, a whole year's salary. I tried again, and wiped out five +thousand more. I was at my wits' end. I have borrowed under +fictitious names, used names of obscure persons as borrowers, have +put up dummy security. It was possible because I controlled the +audits. But it has done no good. The losses have far outbalanced the +winnings and to-day I am in for twenty-five thousand dollars." + +She was watching him now with dilating eyes as the horror of the +situation was burned into her soul. He raced on, afraid to pause +lest she should interrupt him. + +"Mr. Green has been talked into introducing scientific management +and a new system into the business by a certified public accountant, +an expert in installing systems and discovering irregularities. Here +I am, faced by certain exposure," he went on, pacing the floor and +looking everywhere but at her face. "What should I do? Borrow? It is +useless. I have no security that anyone would accept. + +"There is just one thing left." He lowered his voice until it almost +sank into a hoarse whisper. "I must cut loose. I have scraped +together what I can and I have borrowed on my life insurance. Here +on the table is all that I can spare. + +"To-night, the last night, I have worked frantically in a vain hope +that something, some way would at last turn up. It has not. There is +no other way out. In despair I have put this off until the last +moment. But I have thought of nothing else for a week. Good God, +Constance, I have reached the mental state where even intoxicants +fail to intoxicate." + +He dropped back again into the deep chair and sank his head again on +his hands. He groaned as he thought of the agony of packing a bag +and slinking for the Western express through the crowds at the +railroad terminal. + +Still Constance was silent. Through her mind was running the single +thought that she had misjudged him. There had been no other woman in +the case. As he spoke, there came flooding into her heart the sudden +realization of the truth. He had done it for her. + +It was a rude and bitter awakening after the past months when the +increased income, with no questions asked, had made her feel that +they were advancing. She passed her hands over her eyes, but there +it was still, not a dream but a harsh reality. If she could only +have gone back and undone it! But what was done, was done, She was +amazed at herself. It was not horror of the deed that sent an icy +shudder over her. It was horror of exposure. + +He had done it for her. Over and over again that thought raced +through her mind. She steeled herself at last to speak. She hardly +knew what was in her own mind, what the conflicting, surging +emotions of her own heart meant. + +"And so, you are leaving me what is left, leaving me in disgrace, +and you are going to do the best you can to get away safely. You +want me to tell one last lie for you." + +There was an unnatural hollowness in her voice which he did not +understand, but which out him to the quick. He had killed love. He +was alone. He knew it. With a final effort he tried to moisten his +parched lips to answer. At last, in a husky voice, he managed to +say, "Yes." + +But with all his power of will he could not look at her. + +"Carlton Dunlap," she cried, leaning both hands for support on the +table, bending over and at last forcing him to look her in the eyes, +"do you know what I think of you? I think you are a damned coward. +There!" + +Instead of tears and recriminations, instead of the conventional +"How could you do it?" instead of burning denunciation of him for +ruining her life, he read something else in her face. What was it? + +"Coward?" he repeated slowly. "What would you have me do--take you +with me?" + +She tossed her head contemptuously. + +"Stay and face it?" he hazarded again. + +"Is there no other way?" she asked, still leaning forward with her +eyes fixed on his. "Think! Is there no way that you could avoid +discovery just for a time? Carlton, you--we are cornered. Is there +no desperate chance?" + +He shook his head sadly. + +Her eyes wandered momentarily about the studio, until they rested on +an easel. On it stood a water color on which she had been working, +trying to put into it some of the feeling which she would never have +put into words for him. On the walls of the apartment were pen and +ink sketches, scores of little things which she had done for her own +amusement. She bit her lip as an idea flashed through her mind. + +He shook his head again mournfully. + +"Somewhere," she said slowly, "I have read that clever forgers use +water colors and pen and ink like regular artists. Think--think! Is +there no way that we--that I could forge a check that would give us +breathing space, perhaps rescue us?" + +Carlton leaned over the table toward her, fascinated. He placed both +his hands on hers. They were icy, but she did not withdraw them. + +For an instant they looked into each other's eyes, an instant, and +then they understood. They were partners in crime, amateurs perhaps, +but partners as they had been in honesty. + +It was a new idea that she had suggested to him. Why should he not +act on it? Why hesitate? Why stop at it? He was already an +embezzler. Why not add a new crime to the list? As he looked into +her eyes he felt a new strength. Together they could do it. Hers was +the brain that had conceived the way out. She had the will, the +compelling power to carry the thing through. He would throw himself +on her intuition, her brain, her skill, her daring. + +On his desk in the corner, where often until far into the night he +had worked on the huge ruled sheets of paper covered with figures of +the firm's accounts, he saw two goose-necked vials, one of lemon- +colored liquid, the other of raspberry color. One was of tartaric +acid, the other of chloride of lime. It was an ordinary ink +eradicator. Near the bottles lay a rod of glass with a curious tip, +an ink eraser made of finely spun glass threads which scraped away +the surface of the paper more delicately than any other tool that +had been devised. There were the materials for his, their +rehabilitation if they were placed in his wife's deft artist +fingers. Here was all the chemistry and artistry of forgery at hand. + +"Yes," he answered eagerly, "there is a way, Constance. Together we +can do it." + +There was no time for tenderness between them now. It was cold, hard +fact and they understood each other too well to stop for +endearments. + +Far into the night they sat up and discussed the way in which they +would go about the crime. They practised with erasers and with brush +and water color on the protective coloring tint on some canceled +checks of his own. Carlton must get a check of a firm in town, a +check that bore a genuine signature. In it they would make such +trifling changes in the body as would attract no attention in +passing, yet would yield a substantial sum toward wiping out +Carlton's unfortunate deficit. + +Late as he had worked the night before, nervous and shaky as he felt +after the sleepless hours of planning their new life, Carlton was +the first at the office in the morning. His hand trembled as he ran +through the huge batch of mail already left at the first delivery. +He paused as he came to one letter with the name "W. J. REYNOLDS +CO." on it. + +Here was a check in payment of a small bill, he knew. It was from a +firm which habitually kept hundreds of thousands on deposit at the +Gorham Bank. It fitted the case admirably. He slit open the letter. +There, neatly folded, was the check: + +No. 15711. Dec. 27, 191--. + +THE GORHAM NATIONAL BANK + +Pay to the order of....... Green & Co....... + +Twenty-five 00/100 ..................Dollars + +$25.00/100 + +W. J. REYNOLDS Co., per CHAS. M. BROWN, Treas. + +It flashed over him in a moment what to do. Twenty-five thousand +would just about cover his shortage. The Reynolds firm was a big +one, doing big transactions. He slipped the check into his pocket. +The check might have been stolen in the mail. Why not? + +The journey uptown was most excruciatingly long, in spite of the +fact that he had met no one he knew either at the office or outside. +At last he arrived home, to find Constance waiting anxiously. + +"Did you get a check?" she asked, hardly waiting for his reply. "Let +me see it. Give it to me." + +The coolness with which she went about it amazed him. "It has the +amount punched on it with a check punch," she observed as she ran +her quick eye over it while he explained his plan. "We'll have to +fill up some of those holes made by the punch." + +"I know the kind they used," he answered. "I'll get one and a desk +check from the Gorham. You do the artistic work, my dear. My +knowledge of check punches, watermarks, and paper will furnish the +rest. I'll be back directly. Don't forget to call up the office a +little before the time I usually arrive there and tell them I am +ill." + +With her light-fingered touch she worked feverishly, partly with the +liquid ink eradicator, but mostly with the spun-glass eraser. First +she rubbed out the cents after the written figure "Twenty-five." +Carefully with a blunt instrument she smoothed down the roughened +surface of the paper so that the ink would not run in the fibers and +blot. Over and over she practised writing the "Thousand" in a hand +like that on the check. She already had the capital "T" in "Twenty" +as a guide. During the night in practising she had found that in +raising checks only seven capital letters were used--O in one, T in +two, three, ten, and thousand, F in four and five, S in six and +seven, E in eight, N in nine and H in hundred. + +At last even her practice satisfied her. Then with a coolness born +only of desperation she wrote in the words, "Thousand 00/100." When +she had done it she stopped to wonder at herself. She was amazed and +perhaps a little frightened at how readily she adapted herself to +the crime of forgery. She did not know that it was one of the few +crimes in which women had proved themselves most proficient, though +she felt her own proficiency and native ability for copying. + +Again the eraser came into play to remove the cents after the figure +"25." A comma and three zeros following it were inserted, followed +by a new "00/100." The signature was left untouched. + +Erasing the name of "Green & Co.," presented greater difficulties, +but it was accomplished with as little loss of the protective +coloring on the surface of the check as possible. Then after the +"Pay to the order of" she wrote in, as her husband had directed, +"The Carlton Realty Co." + +Next came the water color to restore the protective tint where the +glass eraser and the acids had removed it. There was much delicate +matching of tints and careful painting in with a fine camel's hair +brush, until at last the color of those parts where there had been +an erasure was apparently as good as any other part. + +Of course, under the microscope there could have been seen the angry +crisscrossing of the fibers of the paper due to the harsh action of +the acids and the glass eraser. Still, painting the whole thing over +with a little resinous liquid somewhat restored the glaze to the +paper, at least sufficiently to satisfy a cursory glance of the +naked eye. + +There remained the difficulty of the protective punch marks. There +they were, a star cut out of the check itself, a dollar sign and 25 +followed by another star. + +She was still admiring her handiwork, giving it here and there a +light little fillip with the brush and comparing this check with +some of those which had been practised on last night, to see whether +she had made any improvement in her technique of forgery, when +Carlton returned with the punch and the blank checks on the Gorham +Bank. + +From one of the blank checks he punched out a number of little stars +until there was one which in watermark and scroll work corresponded +precisely with that punched out in the original check. + +Constance, whose fingers had long been accustomed to fine work, +fitted in the little star after the $25, then took it out, moistened +the edges ever so lightly with glue on the end of a toothpick, and +pasted it back again. A hot iron completed the work of making the +edges smooth and unless a rather powerful glass had been used no one +could have seen the pasted-in insertion after the $25. + +Careful not to deviate the fraction of a hair's breadth from the +alignment Carlton took the punch, added three 0's, and a star after +the 25, making it $25,000. Finally the whole thing was again ironed +to give it the smoothness of an original. Here at last was the +completed work, the first product of their combined skill in crime: + +No. 15711. Dec. 27,191--. THE GORHAM NATIONAL BANK + +Pay to the order of... The Carlton Realty Co. + +Twenty-five Thousand 00/100.........Dollars $25,000.00/100 + +W. J. REYNOLDS Co., per CHAS. M. BROWN, Treas. + +How completely people may change, even within a few hours, was well +illustrated as they stood side by side and regarded their work with +as much pride as if it had been the result of their honest efforts +of years. They were now pen and brush crooks of the first caliber, +had reduced forgery to a fine art and demonstrated what an amateur +might do. For, although they did not know it, nearly half the +fifteen millions or so lost by forgeries every year was the work of +amateurs such as they. + +The next problem was presenting the check for collection. Of course +Carlton could not put it through his own bank, unless he wanted to +leave a blazed trail straight to himself. Only a colossal bluff +would do, and in a city where only colossal bluffs succeed it was +not so impossible as might have been first imagined. + +Luncheon over, they sauntered casually into a high-class office +building on Broadway where there were offices to rent. The agent was +duly impressed by the couple who talked of their large real estate +dealings. Where he might have been thoroughly suspicious of a man +and might have asked many embarrassing but perfectly proper +questions, he accepted the woman without a murmur. At her suggestion +he even consented to take his new tenants around to the Uptown Bank +and introduce them. They made an excellent impression by a first +cash deposit of the money Carlton had thrown down on the table the +night before. A check for the first month's rent more than mollified +the agent and talk of a big deal that was just being signed up to- +day duly impressed the bank. + +The next problem was to get the forged check certified. That, also, +proved a very simple matter. Any one can walk into a bank and get a +check for $25,000 certified, while if he appears, a stranger, before +the window of the paying teller to cash a check for twenty-five +dollars he would almost be thrown out of the bank. Banks will +certify at a glance practically any check that looks right, but they +pass on the responsibility of cashing them. Thus before the close of +banking hours Dunlap was able to deposit in his new bank the check +certified by the Gorham. + +Twenty-four hours must elapse before he could draw against the check +which he had deposited. He did not propose to waste that time, so +that the next day found him at Green & Co.'s, feeling much better. +Really he had come prepared now to straighten out the books, knowing +that in a few hours he could make good. + +The first hesitation due to the newness of the game had worn off by +this time. Nothing at all of an alarming nature had happened. The +new month had already begun and as most firms have their accounts +balanced only once a month, he had, he reasoned, nearly the entire +four weeks in which to operate. + +Conscience was dulled in Constance, also, and she was now busy with +ink eraser, the water colors, and other paraphernalia in a wholesale +raising of checks, mostly for amounts smaller than that in the first +attempt. + +"We are taking big chances, anyway," she urged him. "Why quit yet? A +few days more and we may land something worth while." + +The next day he excused himself from the office for a while and +presented himself at his new bank with a sheaf of new checks which +she had raised, all certified, and totaling some thousands more. + +His own check for twenty-five thousand was now honored. The relief +which he felt was tremendous after the weeks of grueling anxiety. At +once he hurried to a broker's and placed an order for the stocks he +had used on which to borrow. He could now replace everything in the +safe, straighten out the books, could make everything look right to +the systematizer, could blame any apparent irregularity on his old +system. Even ignorance was better than dishonesty. + +Constance, meanwhile, had installed herself in the little office +they had hired, as stenographer and secretary. Once having embarked +on the hazardous enterprise she showed no disposition to give it up +yet An office boy was hired and introduced at the bank. + +The mythical realty company prospered, at least if prosperity is +measured merely by the bank book. In less than a week the skilful +pen and brush of Constance had secured them a balance, after +straightening out Carlton's debts, that came well up to a hundred +thousand dollars, mostly in small checks, some with genuine +signatures and amounts altered, others complete forgeries. + +As they went deeper and deeper, Constance began to feel the truth of +their situation. It was she who was really at the helm in this +enterprise. It had been her idea; the execution of it had been +mainly her work; Carlton had furnished merely the business knowledge +that she did not possess. The more she thought of it during the +hours in the little office while he was at work downtown, the more +uneasy did she become. + +What if he should betray himself in some way? She was sure of +herself. But she was almost afraid to let him go out of her sight. +She felt a sinking sensation every time he mentioned any of the +happenings in the banking house. Could he be trusted alone not to +betray himself when the first hint of discovery of something wrong +came? + +It was now near the middle of the month. It would not pay to wait +until the end. Some one of the many firms whose checks they had +forged might have its book balanced at any time now. From day to day +small amounts in cash had already been withdrawn until they were +twenty thousand dollars to the good. They planned to draw out thirty +thousand now at one time. That would give them fifty thousand, +roughly half of their forgeries. + +The check was written and the office boy was started to the bank +with it. Carlton followed him at a distance, as he had on other +occasions, ready to note the first sign of trouble as the boy waited +at the teller's window. At last the boy was at the head of the line. +He had passed the check in and his satchel was lying open, with +voracious maw, on the ledge below the wicket for the greedy feeding +of stacks of bills. Why did the teller not raise the wicket and +shove out the money in a coveted pile? Carlton seemed to feel that +something was wrong. The line lengthened and those at the end of the +queue began to grow restive at the delay. One of the bank's officers +walked down and spoke to the boy. + +Carlton waited no longer. The game was up. He rushed from his coign +of observation, out of the bank building, and dashed into a +telephone booth. + +"Quick, Constance," he shouted over the wire, "leave everything. +They are holding up our check. They have discovered something. Take +a cab and drive slowly around the square. You will find me waiting +for you at the north end." + +That night the newspapers were full of the story. There was the +whole thing, exaggerated, distorted, multiplied, until they had +become swindlers of millions instead of thousands. But nevertheless +it was their story. There was only one grain of consolation. It was +in the last paragraph of the news item, and read: "There seems to be +no trace of the man and woman who worked this clever swindle. As if +by a telepathic message they have vanished at just the time when +their whole house of cards collapsed." + +They removed every vestige of their work from the apartment. +Everything was destroyed. Constance even began a new water color so +that that might suggest that she had not laid aside her painting. + +They had played for a big stake and lost. But the twenty thousand +dollars was something. Now the great problem was to conceal it and +themselves. They had lost, yet if ever before they loved, it was as +nothing to what it was now that they had tasted together the bitter +and the sweet of their mutual crime. + +Carlton went down to the office the next day, just as before. The +anxious hours that his wife had previously spent thinking whether he +might betray himself by some slip were comparative safety as +contrasted with the uncertainty of the hours now. But the first day +after the alarm of the discovery passed off all right. Carlton even +discussed the case, his case, with those in the office, commented on +it, condemned the swindlers, and carried it off, he felt proud to +say, as well as Constance herself might have done had she been in +his place. + +Another day passed. His account of the first day, reassuring as it +had been to her, did not lessen the anxiety. Yet never before had +they seemed to be bound together by such ties as knitted their very +souls in this crisis. She tried with a devotion that was touching to +impart to him some of her own strength to ward off detection. + +It was the afternoon of the second day that a man who gave the name +of Drummond called and presented a card of the Reynolds Company. + +"Have you ever been paid a little bill of twenty-five dollars by our +company?" he asked. + +Down in his heart Carlton knew that this man was a detective. "I +can't say without looking it up," he replied. + +Carlton touched a button and an assistant appeared. Something +outside himself seemed to nerve him up, as he asked: "Look up our +account with Reynolds, and see if we have been paid--what is it?--a +bill for twenty-five dollars. Do you recall it?" + +"Yes, I recall it," replied the assistant. "No, Mr. Dunlap, I don't +think it has been paid. It is a small matter, but we sent them a +duplicate bill yesterday. I thought the original must have gone +astray." + +Carlton cursed him inwardly for sending the bill. But then, he +reasoned, it was only a question of time, after all, when the +forgery would be discovered. + +Drummond dropped into a half-confidential, half-quizzing tone. "I +thought not. Somewhere along the line that check has been stolen and +raised to twenty-five thousand dollars," he remarked. + +"Is that so?" gasped Carlton, trying hard to show just the right +amount of surprise and not too much. "Is that so?" + +"No doubt you have read in the papers of this clever realty company +swindle? Well, it seems to have been part of that." + +"I am sure that we shall be glad to do all in our power to cooperate +with Reynolds," put in Dunlap. + +"I thought you would," commented Drummond dryly. "I may as well tell +you that I fear some one has been tampering with your mail." + +"Tampering with OUR mail?" repeated Dunlap, aghast. "Impossible." + +"Nothing is impossible until it is proved so," answered Drummond, +looking him straight in the eyes. Carlton did not flinch. He felt a +new power within himself, gained during the past few days of new +association with Constance. For her he could face anything. + +But when Drummond was gone he felt as he had on the night when he +had finally realized that he could never cover up the deficit in his +books. With an almost superhuman effort he gripped himself. +Interminably the hours of the rest of the day dragged on. + +That night he sank limp into a chair on his return home. "A man +named Drummond was in the office to-day, my dear," he said. "Some +one in the office sent Reynolds a duplicate bill, and they know +about the check." + +"Well?" + +"I wonder if they suspect me?" + +"If you act like that, they won't suspect. They'll arrest," she +commented sarcastically. + +He had braced up again into his new self at her words. But there was +again that sinking sensation in her heart, as she realized that it +was, after all, herself on whom he depended, that it was she who had +been the will, even though he had been the intellect of their +enterprise. She could not overcome the feeling that, if only their +positions could be reversed, the thing might even yet be carried +through. + +Drummond appeared again at the office the next day. There was no +concealment about him now. He said frankly that he was from the Burr +Detective Agency, whose business it was to guard the banks against +forgeries. + +"The pen work, or, as we detectives call it, the penning," he +remarked, "in the case of that check is especially good. It shows +rare skill. But the pitfalls in this forgery game are so many that, +in avoiding one, a forger, ever so clever, falls into another." + +Carlton felt the polite third degree, as he proceeded: "Nowadays the +forger has science to contend with, too. The microscope and camera +may come in a little too late to be of practical use in preventing +the forger from getting his money at first, but they come in very +neatly later in catching him. What the naked eye cannot see in this +check they reveal. Besides, a little iodine vapor brings out the +original 'Green & Co.' on it. + +"We have found out also that the protective coloring was restored by +water color. That was easy. Where the paper was scratched and the +sizing taken off, it has been painted with a resinous substance to +restore the glaze, to the eye. Well, a little alcohol takes that +off, too. Oh, the amateur forger may be the most dangerous kind, +because the professional regularly follows the same line, leaves +tracks, has associates, but," he concluded impressively, "all are +caught sooner or later--sooner or later." + +Dunlap managed to maintain his outward composure admirably. Still +the little lifting of the curtain on the hidden mysteries of the new +detective art produced its effect. They were getting closer, and +Dunlap knew it, as Drummond intended he should. And, as in every +crisis, he turned naturally to Constance. Never had she meant so +much to him as now. + +That night as he entered the apartment he happened to glance behind +him. In the shadow down the street a man dodged quickly behind a +tree. The thing gave him a start. He was being watched. + +"There is just one thing left," he cried excitedly as he hurried +upstairs with the news. "We must both disappear this time." + +Constance took it very calmly. "But we must not go together," she +added quickly, her fertile mind, as ever, hitting directly on a plan +of action. "If we separate, they will be less likely to trace us, +for they will never think we would do that." + +It was evident that the words were being forced out by the conflict +of common sense and deep emotion. "Perhaps it will be best for you +to stick to your original idea of going west. I shall go to one of +the winter resorts. We shall communicate only through the personal +column of the Star. Sign yourself Weston. I shall sign Easton." + +The words fell on Carlton with his new and deeper love for her like +a death sentence. It had never entered his mind that they were to be +separated now. Dissolve their partnership in crime? To him it seemed +as if they had just begun to live since that night when they had at +last understood each other. And it had come to this--separation. + +"A man can always shift for himself better if he has no +impediments," she said, speaking rapidly as if to bolster up her own +resolution. "A woman is always an impediment in a crisis like this." + +In her face he saw what he had never seen before. There was love in +it that would sacrifice everything. She was sending him away from +her, not to save herself but to save him. Vainly he attempted to +protest. She placed her finger on his lips. Never before had he felt +such over-powering love for her. And yet she held him in check in +spite of himself. + +"Take enough to last a few months," she added hastily. "Give me the +rest. I can hide it and take care of myself. Even if they trace me I +can get off. A woman can always do that more easily than a man. +Don't worry about me. Go somewhere, start a new life. If it takes +years, I will wait. Let me know where you are. We can find some way +in which I can come back into your life. No, no,"--Carlton had +caught her passionately in his arms--"even that cannot weaken me. +The die is cast. We must go." + +She tore herself away from him and fled into her room, where, with +set face and ashen lips, she stuffed article after article into her +grip. With a heavy heart Carlton did the same. The bottom had +dropped out of everything, yet try as he would to reason it out, he +could find no other solution but hers. To stay was out of the +question, if indeed it was not already too late to run. To go +together was equally out of the question. Constance had shown that. +"Seek the woman," was the first rule of the police. + +As they left the apartment they could see a man across the street +following them closely. They were shadowed. In despair Carlton +turned toward his wife. A sudden idea had flashed over her. There +were two taxicabs at the station on the corner. + +"I will take the first," she whispered. "Take the second and follow +me. Then he cannot trace us." + +They were off, leaving the baffled shadow only time to take the +numbers of the cab. Constance had thought of that. She stopped and +Carlton joined her. After a short walk they took another cab. + +He looked at her inquiringly, but she said nothing. In her eyes he +saw the same fire that blazed when she had asked him if there was no +way to avoid discovery and had suggested it herself in the forgery. +He reached over and caressed her hand. She did not withdraw it, but +her averted eyes told that she could not trust even herself too far. + +As they stood before the gateway to the steps that led down into the +long under-river tunnel which was to swallow them so soon and +project them, each into a new life, hundreds, perhaps thousands of +miles apart, Carlton realized as never before what it all had meant. +He had loved her through all the years, but never with the wild love +of the past two weeks. Now there was nothing but blackness and +blankness. He felt as though the hand of fate was tearing out his +wildly beating heart. + +She tried to smile at him bravely. She understood. For a moment she +looked at him in the old way and all the pent-up love that would +have, that had done and dared everything for him struggled in her +rapidly rising and falling breast. + +It was now or never. She knew it, the supreme effort. One word or +look too many from her and all would be lost. She flung her arms +about him and kissed him. "Remember--one week from to-day--a +personal--in the STAR," she panted. + +She literally tore herself from his arms, gathered up her grip, and +was gone. + +A week passed. The quiet little woman at the Oceanview House was +still as much a mystery to the other guests as when she arrived, +travel-stained and worn with the repressed emotion of her sacrifice. +She had appeared to show no interest in anything, to take her meals +mechanically, to stay most of the time in her room, never to enter +into any of the recreations of the famous winter resort. + +Only once a day did she betray the slightest concern about anything +around her. That was when the New York papers arrived. Then she was +always first at the news-stand, and the boy handed out to her, as a +matter of habit, the STAR. Yet no one ever saw her read it. Directly +afterward she would retire to her room. There she would pore over +the first page, reading and rereading every personal in it. +Sometimes she would try reading them backward and transposing the +words, as if the message they contained might be in the form of a +cryptograph. + +The strain and the suspense began to show on her. Day after day +passed, until it was nearly two weeks since the parting in New York. +Day after day she grew more worn by worry and fear. What had +happened? + +In desperation she herself wired a personal to the paper: "Weston. +Write me at the Oceanview. Easton." + +For three days she waited for an answer. Then she wired the personal +again. Still there was no reply and no hint of reply. Had they +captured him? Or was he so closely pursued that he did not dare to +reply even in the cryptic manner on which they had agreed! + +She took the file of papers which she kept and again ran through the +personals, even going back to the very day after they had separated. +Perhaps she had missed one, though she knew that she could not have +done so, for she had looked at them a hundred times. Where was he? +Why did he not answer her message in some way? No one had followed +her. Were they centering their efforts on capturing him? + +She haunted the news-stand in the lobby of the beautifully appointed +hotel. Her desire to read newspapers grew. She read everything. + +It was just two weeks since they had left New York on their separate +journeys when, on the evening of another newsless day, she was +passing the news-stand. From force of habit she glanced at an early +edition of an evening paper. + +The big black type of the heading caught her eye: + +NOTED FORGER A SUICIDE + +With a little shriek, half-suppressed, she seized the paper. It was +Carlton. There was his name. He had shot himself in a room in a +hotel in St. Louis. She ran her eye down the column, hardly able to +read. In heavier type than the rest was the letter they had found on +him: + +MY DEAREST CONSTANCE, + +When you read this I, who have wronged and deceived you beyond +words, will be where I can no longer hurt you. Forgive me, for by +this act I am a confessed embezzler and forger. I could not face you +and tell you of the double life I was leading. So I have sent you +away and have gone away myself--and may the Lord have mercy on the +soul of + +Your devoted husband, CARLTON DUNLAP. + +Over and over again she read the words, as she clutched at the edge +of the news-stand to keep from fainting--"wronged and deceived you," +"the double life I was leading." What did he mean? Had he, after +all, been concealing something else from her? Had there really been +another woman? + +Suddenly the truth flashed over her. Tracked and almost overtaken, +lacking her hand which had guided him, he had seen no other way out. +And in his last act he had shouldered it all on himself, had +shielded her nobly from the penalty, had opened wide for her the +only door of escape. + + + + +CHAPTER II + +THE EMBEZZLERS + + +"I came here to hide, to vanish forever from those who know me." + +The young man paused a moment to watch the effect of his revelation +of himself to Constance Dunlap. There was a certain cynical +bitterness in his tone which made her shudder. + +"If you were to be discovered--what then?" she hazarded. + +Murray Dodge looked at her significantly, but said nothing. Instead, +he turned and gazed silently at the ruffled waters of Woodlake. +There was no mistaking the utter hopelessness and grim determination +of the man. + +"Why--why have you told so much to me, an absolute stranger?" she +asked, searching his face. "Might I not hand you over to the +detectives who, you say, will soon be looking for you?" + +"You might," he answered quickly, "but you won't." + +There was a note of appeal in his voice as he pursued slowly, not as +if seeking protection, but as if hungry for friendship and most of +all her friendship, "Mrs. Dunlap, I have heard what the people at +the hotel say is your story. I think I understand, as much as a man +can. Anyhow, I know that you can understand. I have reached a point +where I must tell some one or go insane. It is only a question of +time before I shall be caught. We are all caught. Tell me," he asked +eagerly, bending down closer to her with an almost breathless +intensity in his face as though he would read her thoughts, "am I +right? The story of you which I have heard since I came here is not +the truth, the whole truth. It is only half the truth--is it not?" + +Constance felt that this man was dangerously near understanding her, +as no one yet had seemed to be. It set her heart beating wildly to +know that he did. And yet she was not afraid. Somehow, although she +did not betray the answer by a word or a look, she felt that she +could trust him. + +Through the door of escape from the penalty of her forgeries, which +Carlton Dunlap had thrown open for her by the manner of his death, +Constance had passed unsuspected. To return to New York, however, +had become out of the question. She had plenty of money for her +present needs, although she thought it best to say nothing about it +lest some one might wonder and stumble on the truth. + +She had closed up the little studio apartment, and had gone to a +quiet resort in the pines. Here, at least, she thought she might +live unobserved until she could plan out the tangled future of her +life. + +There had seemed to be no need to conceal her identity, and she had +felt it better not to do so. She knew that her story would follow +her, and it had. She was prepared for that. She was prepared for the +pity and condescension of the gossips and had made up her mind to +stand aloof. + +Then came a day when a stranger had registered at the hotel. She had +not noticed him especially, but it was not long before she realized +that he was noticing her. Was he a detective? Had he found out the +truth in some uncanny way? She felt sure that the name on the hotel +register, Malcolm Dodd, was not his real name. + +Constance had not been surprised when the head waiter had seated the +young man at her table. No doubt he had manoeuvred it so. Nor did +she avoid the guarded acquaintance that resulted in the natural +course of events. + +One afternoon, shortly after his arrival, she had encountered him +unexpectedly on a walk through the pines. He appeared surprised to +meet her, yet she knew intuitively that he had been following her. +Still, it was so different now to have any one seek her company +that, in spite of her uncertainty of him, she almost welcomed his +speaking. + +There was a certain deference in his manner, too, which did not +accord with Constance's ideas of a detective. Yet he did know +something of her. How much! Was it merely what the rest of the world +knew? She could not help seeing that the man was studying her, while +she studied him. There was a fascination about it, a fascination +that the human mystery always possesses for a woman. On his part, he +showed keenly his interest in her. + +Constance had met him with more frankness as she encountered him +often during the days that followed. She had even tried to draw him +out to talk of himself. + +"I came here," he had said one day when they were passing the spot +where he had overtaken her first, "without knowing a soul, not +expecting to meet any one I should care for, indeed hoping to meet +no one." + +Constance had said nothing, but she felt that at last he was going +to crash down the barrier of reserve. He continued earnestly, +"Somehow or other I have come to enjoy these little walks." + +"So have I," she admitted, facing him; "but, do you know, sometimes +I have thought that Malcolm Dodd is not your real name?" + +"Not my real name?" he repeated. + +"And that you are here for some other purpose than--just to rest. +You know, you might be a detective." + +He had looked at her searchingly. Then in a burst of confidence, he +had replied, "No, my name is not Dodd, as you guessed. But I am not +a detective, as you suspected at first. I have been watching you +because, ever since I heard your story here, I have been--well, not +suspicious, but--attracted. You seem to me to have faced a great +problem. I, too, have come to the parting of the ways. Shall I run +or shall I fight?" + +He had handed her a card without hesitation. It bore the name, +"Murray Dodge, Treasurer, Globe Importing Company." + +"What do you mean?" she had asked quickly, hardly expecting an +answer. "What have you done?" + +"Oh, it is the usual trouble, I suppose," he had replied wearily, +much to her surprise. "I began as a boy in the company and +ultimately worked myself up as it grew, until I became treasurer. To +cut it short, I have used funds belonging to the company, lost them. +I don't need to tell you how a treasurer or a cashier can do that." + +Constance was actually startled. Was he what he represented himself +to be? Or was he leading her on in this way to a confession of her +own part, which she had covered so well, in the forgeries of her +dead husband? + +"How did you begin?" she asked tentatively. + +"A few years ago," he answered with a disconcerting lack of reserve, +"the company found that we could beat our competitors by a very +simple means. The largest stockholder, Mr. Dumont, was friendly with +some of the customs officials and--well, we undervalued our goods. +It was easy. The only thing necessary was to bribe some of the +officials. The president of the company, Walton Beverley, put the +dirty work on me as treasurer. Now you can imagine what that meant." + +He had fallen into a cynical tone again. + +"It meant that I soon found, or, rather, thought I found, that every +man has his price--some higher, some lower, but a price, +nevertheless. It was my business to find it, to keep it as low as I +could with safety. So it went, from one crooked thing to another. I +knew I was crooked, but not as bad, I think, as the rest who put the +actual work on me. I was unfortunate, weak perhaps. That is all. I +tried to get mine, too. I lost what I meant to put back after I had +used it. They are after me now, or soon will be--the crooks! And +here I am, momentarily expecting some one to walk up quietly behind +me, tap me on the shoulder and whisper, 'You're wanted.'" + +Time had not softened the bitterness of Constance's feelings. +Somehow she felt that the world, or at least society owed her for +taking away her husband. The world must pay. She sympathized with +the young man who was appealing to her for friendship. Why not help +him? + +"Do you really, really want to know what I think?" asked Constance +after he had at last told her his wretched story. It was the first +time that she had looked at him since she realized that he was +unburdening the truth to her. + +"Yes," he answered eagerly, catching her eye. "Yes," he urged. + +"I think," she said slowly, "that you are running away from a fight +that has not yet begun." + +It thrilled her to be talking so. Once before she had tasted the +sweetness and the bitterness of crime. She did not stop to think +about right or wrong. If she had done so her ethics would have been +strangely illogical. It was enough that, short as their acquaintance +had been, she felt unconsciously that there was something latent in +the spirit of this man akin to her own. + +Murray also felt rather than understood the bond that had been +growing so rapidly between them. His was the temperament that +immediately translates feeling into action. He reached into his +breast pocket. There was the blue-black glint of a cold steel +automatic. A moment he balanced it in his hand. Then with a rapid +and decisive motion of the arm he flung it far from him. As it +struck the water with a sound horribly suggestive of the death +gurgle of a lost man, he turned and faced her. + +"There," he exclaimed with a new light in the defiant, desperate +smile that she had observed many times before, "there. The curtain +rises--instead of falls." + +Neither spoke for a few moments. At last he added, "What shall I do +next?" + +"Do?" she repeated. She felt now the weight of responsibility for +interfering with his desperate plans, but it did not oppress her. On +the contrary, it was a pleasant burden. "According to your own +story," she went on, "they know nothing yet, as far as you can see. +You would have forestalled them by taking this little vacation +during which you could disappear while they would discover the +shortage. Do? Go back." + +"And when they discover it?" he asked evidently prepared for the +answer she had given and eager to know what she would propose next. + +Constance had been thinking rapidly. + +"Listen," she cried, throwing aside restraint now. "No one in New +York outside my former little circle knows me. I can live there in +another circle unobserved. For weeks I have been amusing myself by +the study of shorthand. I have picked up enough to be able to carry +the thing off. Discharge your secretary. Put an advertisement in the +newspapers. I will answer it. Then I will be able to help you. I +cannot say at a distance what you should do next. There, perhaps, I +can tell you." + +What was it that had impelled her to say it? She could not have +told. Murray looked at her. Her very presence seemed to infuse new +determination into him. + +It was strange about this woman, what a wonderful effect she had on +him. + +A few days before he would have laughed at any one who had suggested +that any woman might have aroused in him the passions that were now +surging through his heart. Ten thousand years ago, perhaps, he would +have seized her and carried her off in triumph to his clan or +tribe. To-day he must, he would win her by more subtle means. + +His mind was made up. She had pointed the way. That night Dodge left +Woodlake hastily for New York. + +To Constance a new purpose seemed to have entered into a barren +life. She was almost gay as she packed her trunks and grips and +quietly slipped into the city a few hours later and registered at a +quiet hotel for business women. + +Sure enough in the Star the next morning was the advertisement. She +wrote in a formal way, giving her telephone number. That afternoon, +apparently as soon as the letter had been delivered, a call came. +The following morning she was the private secretary of Murray Dodge, +sitting unobtrusively before a typewriter desk in a sort of little +anteroom that guarded the door to his office. + +She took pains to act the part of private secretary and no more. As +appeared natural to the rest of the office force at first she was +much with Murray, who made the most elaborate explanations of the +detail of the business. + +"Do they suspect anything?" she asked anxiously as soon as they were +absolutely alone. + +"I think so," he replied. "They said nothing except that they had +not expected me back so soon, I think the 'so soon' was an +afterthought. They didn't expect me back at all. For," he added +significantly, "I've been in fear and trembling until I could get +you. They already have asked the regular audit company to go over +the books in advance of the time when we usually employ them. I +didn't ask why. I merely accepted it with a nod. It might have meant +bringing matters to a crisis now." + +He felt safer with Constance installed as his private secretary. +True, Beverley and Dumont had viewed her from the start with +suspicion. + +Constance had been thinking hard out in her little office since she +had begun to understand how matters stood. "Well?" she demanded. +"What of it? Don't try to conceal it. Let them discover it. Go +further. Dare them. Court exposure." + +It was bold and ingenious. What a woman she was for meeting +emergencies. Murray, who had a will that had been accustomed to bend +others to his purposes except in the instance where they had bent +him and nearly broken him, recognized the masterful mind of +Constance. He was willing to allow her to play the game. + +Thus Constance began collecting the very data that would have sent +Murray to jail for bribery. Day by day as she worked on, the +situation became more and more delicate. They found themselves alone +much of the time now. Beverley was, or pretended to be, busy on +other matters and avoided Dodge as much as possible. Only the +regular routine affairs passed through his hands, but he said +nothing. It gave him more time with her. Dumont came in as rarely as +it was possible. + +And as they worked along gathering the data Constance came to admire +Murray more than ever. She worked patiently over the big books, +taking only those on which the accountant was not engaged at such +times as she could get them without exciting suspicion. Together +they dug out the extent of the frauds that had been practiced on the +Government for years back. From the letter files they rescued notes +and orders and letters, pieced them together into as near a +continuous record as they could make. With his own knowledge of the +books Dodge could count on making better progress on the essential +things than the regular accountant of the audit company. He felt +sure that they would finish sooner and that they would have a closer +report of the frauds of all kinds than could be uncovered by the man +who had been set on the trail of Dodge to discover just how much of +the illicit gains he had taken for himself. + +Constance became aware soon that whenever she left the office at +night she was being followed. She had at first studiously repelled +the offers of Murray to see her home. It was not that he had taken +advantage of the situation into which she had put herself. He would +never have done that. Still, she wished a little more time to +analyze her own conflicting feelings toward him. Then, too, several +times in the crowded subway cars she had noticed a face that was +familiar. It was Drummond, never looking directly at her, always +engrossed in something else, yet never failing to note where she was +going. That must be, she reasoned, some of the work of Beverley and +Dumont. + +Murray was now working feverishly. As he worked he found himself +feeling differently toward the whole affair. He actually came to +enjoy it with all its risks and uncertainty, to enjoy gathering the +data which, he should have said, ought really to be destroyed. Often +he caught himself wishing that everything had come out all right in +the end and that Constance really was his private secretary. + +Every moment with her seemed now to pass so quickly that he would +willingly have smashed all the clocks and destroyed all the +calendars. Association with other women had been tame beside his new +friendship with her. She had suffered, felt, lived. She fascinated +him, as often over the books they would stop to talk, talk of things +the most irrelevant, yet to him the most interesting, until she +would bring him back inevitably to the point of their work and start +him again with a new power and incentive toward the purpose she had +in mind. + +To Constance he seemed to fill a blank spot in her empty life. If +she had been bitter toward the world for what had happened to her, +the pleasure of helping another to beat that harsh world seemed an +unspeakably sweet compensation. + +At last even Constance herself began to realize it. It was not, +after all, merely the bitterness toward society, that lured her on. +She was not a woman carved out of a block of stone. There was a +sweetness about this association that carried her along as if in a +dream. She was actually falling in love with him. + +One day she had been working later than usual. The accountant had +shown signs of approaching the end of his task sooner than they had +expected. Murray was waiting, as was his custom, for her to finish +before he left. + +There was no sound in the almost deserted office building save the +banging of a door echoing now and then, or an insistent ring of the +elevator bell as an anxious office boy or stenographer sought to +escape after an extra period of work. + +Murray stood looking at her admiringly as she deftly shoved the pins +into her hat. Then he held her coat, which brought them close +together. + +"It will soon be time for the final scene," he remarked. His manner +was different as he looked down at her. "We must succeed, +Constance," he went on slowly. "Of course, after it is over, it will +be impossible for me to remain here with this company. I have been +looking around. I must--we must clear ourselves. I already have an +offer to go with another company, much better than this position in +every way--honest, square, with no dirty work, such as I have had +here." + +It was a moment that Constance had foreseen, without planning what +she would do. She moved to the door as if to go. + +"Take dinner with me to-night at the Riverside," he went on, +mentioning the name of a beautifully situated inn uptown overlooking +the lights of the Hudson and thronged by gay parties of pleasure +seekers. + +Before she could say no, even though she would have said it, he had +linked his arm in hers, banged shut the door and they were being +whisked to the street in the elevator. + +This time, as they were about to go out of the building, she noticed +Drummond standing in the shadow of a corner back of the cigar +counter on the first floor. She told Murray of the times she had +seen Drummond following her. Murray ground his teeth. + +"He'll have to hustle this time," he muttered, handing her quickly +into a cab that was waiting for a fare. + +Before he could give the order where to drive she had leaned out of +the window, "To the ferry," she cried. + +Murray looked at her inquiringly. Then he understood. "Not to the +Riverside--yet," she whispered. "That man has just summoned a cab +that was passing." + +In her eyes Murray saw the same fire that had blazed when she had +told him he was running away from a fight that had not yet begun. As +the cab whirled through the now nearly deserted downtown streets, he +reached over in sheer admiration and caressed her hand. She did not +withdraw it, but her averted eyes and quick breath told that a +thousand thoughts were hurrying through her mind, divided between +the man in the cab beside her and the man in the cab following +perhaps half a block behind. + +At the ferry they halted and pretended to be examining a time table, +though they bought only ferry tickets. Drummond did the same, and +sauntered leisurely within easy distance of the gate. Nothing seemed +to escape him, and yet never did he seem to be watching them. + +The gateman shouted "All aboard!" + +The door began to close. + +"Come," she tugged at his sleeve. + +They dodged in just in time. Drummond followed. They started across +the wagonway to the opposite side of the slip. He kept on the near +side. Constance swerved back again to the near side. Drummond had +been opposite them and they had now fallen in behind him. He was now +ahead, but going slowly. Murray felt her pulling back on his arm. +With a little exclamation she dropped her purse, which contained a +few coins. She had contrived to open it, and the coins ran in every +possible direction. Drummond was now on the boat. + +"All aboard," growled the guard surlily. "All aboard." + +"Go ahead, go ahead," shouted Murray, trying to pick up the +scattered change and scattering it the more. At last he understood. +"Go ahead. We'll take the next boat. Can't you see the lady has +dropped her purse?" + +The gates closed. The warning whistle blew, and the ferryboat, +departed, bearing off Drummond alone. + +Another cab toot them to the Riverside. A new bond of experience had +been established between them. They dined quietly and as the lights +grew mellow she told him more of her story than she had ever +breathed to any other living soul. + +As Murray listened he looked his admiration for the daring of the +little woman opposite him at the table. + +They drifted. ... + +It was the day of the threatened exposure. Curiously enough, Dodge +felt no nervousness. The understanding which he had reached or felt +that he had reached with Constance made him rather eager than, +otherwise to have the whole affair over with at once. + +Drummond had been shut up for some time in the office of Beverley +with Dumont, going over the report which the accountant had prepared +and other matters--He had come in without seeing either Constance or +Murray, though they knew he must be nursing his chagrin over the +episode of the night before. + +"They are waiting to see you," reported Constance to Dodge, half an +hour later, after one of the office boys had been sent over as a +formal messenger to their office. + +"We are ready for them?" he asked, smiling at her. + +Constance nodded. + +"Then I shall go in. Wait a moment. When they have hurled their +worst at me I shall call on you. Have the stuff ready." + +There was no hesitation, no misgiving on the part of either, as he +strode into Beverley's office. Constance had prepared the record +which they had been working on, and for days had been momentarily +expecting this crisis. She felt that she was ready. + +An ominous silence greeted Dodge as he entered. + +"We have had experts on your books, Dodge," began Beverley, clearing +his throat, as Murray seated himself, waiting for them to speak +first. + +"I have seen that," he replied dryly. + +"They are fifty thousand dollars short," shot out Dumont. + +"Indeed?" + +Dumont gasped at the coolness of the man. "Wh--what? You have +nothing to say? Why, sir," he added, raising his voice, "you have +actually made no effort to conceal it!" + +Dodge smiled cynically. "A consultation, will rectify it," was all +he said. "A conference will show you that it is all right." + +"A consultation?" broke in Beverley in rage. "A consultation in +jail!" + +Still Dodge merely smiled. + +"Then you consider yourself trapped. You admit it," ground out +Dumont. + +"Anything you please," repeated Dodge. "I am perfectly willing--" + +"Let us end this farce--now," cried Beverley hotly. "Drummond!" + +The detective had been doing some rapid thinking. "Just a moment," +he interrupted. "Don't be too precipitate. Hear his side, if he has +any. I can manage him. Besides, I have something else to say about +another person that will interest us all." + +"Then you are willing to have the consultation!" + +Drummond nodded. + +"Miss Dunlap," called Murray, taking the words almost from the +detective's lips, as he opened the door and held it for her to +enter. + +"No--no. Alone," almost shouted Beverley. + +The detective signaled to him and he subsided, muttering. + +As she entered Drummond looked hard at her. Constance met him +without wavering an instant. + +"I think I've seen you before, MRS. Dunlap," insinuated the +detective. + +"Perhaps," replied Constance, still meeting his sharp ferret eye +squarely, which increased his animosity. + +"Your husband was Carlton Dunlap, cashier of Green & Company, was he +not?" + +She bit her lip. The manner of his raking up of old scores, though +she had expected it, was cruel. It would have been cruel in court, +if she had had a lawyer to protect her rights. It was doubly cruel, +merciless, here. Before Dodge could interrupt, the detective added, +"Who committed suicide after forging checks to meet his--" + +Murray was at Drummond like a hound. "Another word from you and I'll +throttle you," he blurted out. + +"No, Murray, no. Don't," pleaded Constance. She was burning with +indignation, but it was not by violence that she expected to +prevail. "Let him say what he has to say." + +Drummond smiled. He had no scruples about a "third degree" of this +kind, and besides there were three of them to Dodge. + +"You were--both of you--at Woodlake not long ago, were you not?" he +asked calmly. + +There was no escaping the implication of the tone. Still Drummond +was taking no chances of being misunderstood. "There was one man," +he went on, "who embezzled for you. Here is another who has +embezzled. How will that look when it goes before a jury!" he +concluded. + +The fight had shifted before it had well begun. Instead of being +between Dodge on one side and Beverley and Dumont on the, other, it +now seemed to be a clash between a cool detective and a clever +woman. + +"Mrs. Dunlap," interrupted Murray, with a mocking smile at the +detective, "will you tell us what you have found out since you have +been my private secretary?" + +Constance had not lost control of herself for a moment. + +"I have been looking over the books a little bit myself," she began +slowly, with all eyes riveted on her. "I find, for instance, that +your company has been undervaluing its imported goods. Undervaluing +merchandise is considered, I believe, one of the meanest forms of +smuggling. The undervaluer has frequently to make a tool of a man in +his employ. Then that tool must play on the frailties of an +unfortunate or weak examiner at the Public Stores where all invoices +and merchandise from foreign countries are examined." + +Drummond had been trying to interrupt, but she had ignored him, and +was speaking rapidly so that he could get no chance. + +"You have cheated the Government of hundreds of thousands dollars," +she hurried on facing Beverley and Dumont. "It would make a splendid +newspaper story." + +Dumont moved uneasily. Drummond was now staring. It was a new phase +of the matter to him. He had not counted on handling a woman like +Constance, who knew how to take advantage of every weak spot in the +armor. + +"We are wasting time," he interrupted brusquely. "Get back to the +original subject. There is a fifty thousand-dollar shortage on these +books." + +The attempt clumsily to shift the case away again from Constance to +Dodge was apparent. + +"Mrs. Dunlap's past troubles," Dodge asserted vigorously, "have +nothing to do with the case. It was cowardly to drag that in. But +the other matter of which she speaks has much to do with it." + +"One moment, Murray," cried Constance. "Let me finish what I began. +This is my fight, too, now." + +She was talking with blazing eyes and in quick, cutting tone. + +"For three years he did your dirty work," she flashed. "He did the +bribing--and you saved half a million dollars." + +"He has stolen fifty thousand," put in Beverley, white with anger. + +"I have kept an account of everything," pursued Constance, without +pausing. "I have pieced the record together so that he can now +connect the men higher up with the actual acts he had to do. He can +gain immunity by turning state's evidence. I am not sure but that he +might be able to obtain his moiety of what the Government recovers +if the matter were brought to suit and won on the information he can +furnish." + +She paused. No one seemed to breathe. + +"Now," she added impressively, "at ten per cent. commission the half +million that he saved for you yields fifty thousand dollars. That, +gentlemen, is the amount of the shortage--an offset." + +"The deuce it is!" exclaimed Beverley. + +Constance reached for a telephone on the desk near her. + +"Get me the Law Division at the Customs House," she asked simply. + +Dumont was pale and almost speechless. Beverley could ill suppress +his smothered rage. What could they do? The tables had been turned. +If they objected to the amazing proposal Constance had made they +might all go to jail. Dodge even might go free, rich. They looked at +Dodge and Mrs. Dunlap. There was no weakening. They were as +relentless as their opponents had been before. + +Dumont literally tore the telephone from her. "Never mind about that +number, central," he muttered. + +Then he started as if toward the door. The rest followed. Outside +the accountant had been waiting patiently, perhaps expecting +Drummond to call on him to corroborate the report. He had been +listening. There was no sound of high voices, as he had expected. +What did it mean? + +The door opened. Beverley was pale and haggard, Dumont worn and +silent. He could scarcely talk. Dodge again held the door for +Constance as she swept past the amazed accountant. + +All eyes were now fixed on Dumont as chief spokesman. + +"He has made a satisfactory explanation," was all he said. + +"I would lock all that stuff up in the strongest safe deposit vault +in New York," remarked Constance, laying the evidence that involved +them all on Murray's desk. "It is your only safeguard." + +"Constance," he burst forth suddenly, "you were superb." + +The crisis was past now and she felt the nervous reaction. + +"There is one thing more I want to say," he added in a low tone. + +He had crossed to where she was standing by the window, and bent +over, speaking with great emotion. + +"Since that afternoon at Woodlake when you turned me back again from +the foolish and ruinous course on which I had decided you--you have +been more to me than life. Constance, I have never loved until now. +Nothing has ever mattered except money. I never had any one else to +think of, care for, except myself. You have changed everything." + +She was gazing out of the window at the tall buildings. There, in a +myriad of offices, lay wealth untold, opportunity as yet untasted to +seize that wealth. Only for an instant she turned and looked at him, +then dropped her eyes. What lay that way? + +"You are clear now, respected, respectable," she said simply. + +"Yes, thank God. Clear and with a new ambition, thanks to you." + +She had been expecting this ever since that last night. The relief +of Murray to feel that the old score that would have ruined him was +now wiped off the slate was precisely what she had anticipated. + +Yet, somehow, it disappointed her. She felt instinctively that her +triumph was burning fast to ashes. + +"Keep clear," she faltered. + +"Constance," he urged, approaching closer and taking her cold hand. + +Was she to be the one to hold him back in any way from the new life +that was now before him? What if Drummond, in his animosity, ever +got the truth? She gently unclasped her hand from his. No, that +happiness was not for her. + +"I am afraid I am a crook at heart, Murray," she said sadly. "I have +gone too far to turn back. The brand is on me. But I am not +altogether bad--yet. Think of me always with charity. Yes," she +cried wildly, "I must return to my loneliness. No, do not try to +stop me, you have no right," she added bitterly as the reality of +her situation burned itself into her heart. + +She broke away from him wildly, but with set purpose. The world had +taken away her husband; now it was a lover; the world must pay. + + + + +CHAPTER III + +THE GUN RUNNERS + + +"We'll land here, Mrs. Dunlap." + +Ramon Santos, terror of the Washington State Department and of a +half dozen consulates in New York, stuck a pin in a map of Central +America spread out on a table before Constance. + +"Insurrectos will meet us," he pursued, then added, "but we must +have money, first, my dear Senora, plenty of money." + +Dark of eye and skin, with black imperial and mustache, tall, +straight as an arrow, Santos had risen and was now gazing down with +rapt attention, not at the map, but at Constance herself. + +Every curve of her face and wave of her hair, every line of her trim +figure which her filmy gown seemed to accentuate rather than conceal +added fire to his ardent glances. + +He touched lightly another pin sticking in a little, almost +microscopic island of the Caribbean. + +"Our plan, it is simple," he continued with animation in spite of +his foreign accent. "On this island a plant to print paper money, to +coin silver. With that we shall land, pay our men as they flock to +us, collect forces, seize cities, appropriate the customs. Once we +start, it is easy." + +Constance looked up quickly. "But that is counterfeiting," she +exclaimed. + +"No," rejoined Santos, "it is a war measure. We--the provisional +government--merely coin our own money. Besides, it will not be done +in this country. It will not come under your laws." + +There was a magnetism about the man that fascinated her, as he stood +watching the effect of his words. Instinctively she knew that it was +not alone enthusiasm over his scheme that inspired his confidences. + +"Though we are not counterfeiters," he went on, "we do not know what +moment our opponents may set your Secret Service to destroy all our +hopes. Besides, we must have money--now--to buy machinery, arms, +ammunition. We must find some one," he lowered his voice, "who can +persuade American bankers and merchants to take risks to gain +valuable concessions in the new state." + +Santos was talking rapidly and earnestly, urging his case on her. + +"We are prepared," he hurried on confidentially, "to give you, +Senora, half the money that you can raise for these purposes." + +He paused and stood before her. He was certainly a handsome figure, +this soldier of fortune, and he was at his best now. + +Constance looked out of the window of her sitting room. This was a +business proposition, not to be influenced by any sentiment. + +She watched the lights moving up and down the river and bay. There +were craft from the ends of the earth. She speculated on the +romantic secrets hidden in liner and tramp. Surely they could +scarcely be more romantic than the appeal Santos was making. + +"Will you help us?" urged Santos, leaning further over the map to +read her averted face. + +In her loneliness after she had given up Murray Dodge, life in New +York had seemed even more bitter to Constance than before. Yet the +great city cast a spell over her, with its countless opportunities +for adventure. She could not leave it, but had taken a suite in a +quiet boarding house overlooking the bay from the Heights in +Brooklyn. + +One guest in particular had interested her. He was a Latin American, +Ramon Santos. She noticed that he seldom appeared at breakfast or +luncheon. But at dinner he often, ordered much as if it were seven +o'clock in the morning instead of the evening. He was a mystery and +mysteries interested her. Did he work all night and sleep all day? +What was he doing? + +She was astonished a few nights after her arrival to receive a call +from the mysterious evening breakfaster. + +"Pardon--I intrude," he began gracefully, presenting his card. "But +I have heard how clever you are, Senora Dunlap. A friend, in an +importing firm, has told me of you, a Mr. Dodge." + +Constance was startled at the name. Murray had indeed written a +little note expressing his entire confidence in Mr. Santos. Formal +as it was, Constance thought she could read between the lines the +same feeling toward her that he had expressed at their parting. + +Santos gave her no time to live over the past. + +"You see, Mrs. Dunlap," he explained, as he led up to the object of +his visit, "the time has come to overthrow the regime in Central +America--for a revolution which will bring together all the +countries in a union like the old United States of Central America." + +He had spread out the map on the table. + +"Only," he added, "we would call the new state, Vespuccia." + +"We?" queried Constance. + +"Yes--my--colleagues-you call it in English! We have already a Junta +with headquarters in an old loft on South Street, in New York." + +Santos indicated the plan of campaign on the map. + +"We shall strike a blow," he cried, bringing his fist down on the +table as if the blow had already fallen, "that will paralyze the +enemy at the very start!" + +He paused. + +"Will you help us raise the money?" he repeated earnestly. + +Constance had been inactive long enough. The appeal was romantic, +almost irresistible. Besides--no, at the outset she put out of +consideration any thought of the fascinating young soldier of +fortune himself. + +The spirit of defiance of law and custom was strong upon her. That +was all. + +"Yes," she replied, "I will help you." + +Santos leaned over, and with a graceful gesture that she could not +resent, raised her finger tips gallantly to his lips. + +"Thank you," he said with, a courtly smile. "We have already won!" + +The next day Ramon introduced her to the other members of the Junta. +It was evident that he was in fact as well as name their leader, but +they were not like the usual oily plotters of revolution who +congregate about the round tables in dingy back rooms of South +Street cafes, apportioning the gold lace, the offices, and the +revenues among themselves. There was an "air" about them that was +different. + +"Let me present Captain Lee Gordon of the Arrayo," remarked Santos, +coming to a stockily-built, sun-burned man with the unmistakable +look of the Anglo-Saxon who has spent much time in the neighborhood +of the tropical sun. "The Arroyo is the ship that is to carry the +arms and the plant to the island--from Brooklyn. We choose Brooklyn +because it is quieter over there--fewer people late at night on the +streets." + +Captain Gordon bowed, without taking his eyes off Constance. + +"I am, like yourself, Mrs. Dunlap, a recent recruit," he explained. +"It is a wonderful plan," he added enthusiastically. "We shall sweep +the country with it." + +He flicked off the ash of his inevitable cigarette, much as if it +were the opposition of the governments they were to encounter. + +It was evident that the Captain was much impressed by Constance. Yet +she instinctively disliked the man. His cameraderie had something +offensive about it, as contrasted with the deferential friendship of +Santos. + +With all her energy, however, Constance plunged directly into her +work. Indeed, even at the start she was amazed to find that money +for a revolution could be raised at all. She soon, found that it +could be done more easily in New York than anywhere else in the +world. + + There seemed to be something about her that apparently appealed to +those whom she went to see. She began to realize what a tremendous +advantage a woman of the world had in presenting the case and +convincing a speculator of the rich returns if the revolution should +prove successful. More than that, she quickly learned that it was +best to go alone, that it was she, quite as much as the promised +concessions for tobacco, salt, telegraph, telephone monopolies, that +loosed the purse strings. + +Her first week's report of pledges ran into the thousands with a +substantial immediate payment of real dollars. + +"How did you do it?" asked Santos in undisguised admiration, as she +was telling him one night of her success, in the dusty, cobwebbed +little ship chandlery on South Street where the Junta headquarters +had been established. + +"Dollar diplomacy," she laughed, not displeased at his admiration. +"We shall soon convert American dollars into Vespuccian bullets." + +They were alone, and a week had made much difference in the +fascinating friendship to Constance. + +"Let me show you what I have done," Ramon confided. "Already, I have +started together the 'counterfeiting plant,' as you call it." + +Piece by piece, as he had been able to afford them, he had been +ordering the presses, the stamping machine, and a little "reeding" +or milling machine for the edges of the coins. + +"The paper, the ink, and the bullion, we shall order now as we can," +he explained, resting his head on his elbow at the table beside her. +"Everything will be secured from firms which make mint supplies for +foreign governments. A photo-engraver is now engaged on the work of +copying the notes. He is making the plates by the photo-etching +process--the same as that by which the real money plates are made. +Then, too, there will be dies for the coins. Coined silver will be +worth, twice the cost of the bullion to us. Why," he added eagerly, +"a few more successful days, Senora, and we shall have even arms and +ammunition." + +A key turned in the door. Santos sprang to his feet. It was Gordon. + +"Ah, good evening," the Captain greeted them. The fact that they had +been talking so earnestly alone was not lost on him. "May I join the +conspiracy?" he smiled. "What luck to-day? By the way, I have just +heard of a consignment of a thousand rifles as good as new that can +be bought for a song." + +Santos, elated at the progress so far, told hastily of Constance's +success. "Let us get an option on them for a few days," he cried. + +"Good," agreed Gordon, "only," he added, shaking his finger +playfully at Constance, as the three left the headquarters, "don't +let the commander-in-chief monopolize ALL your time, Remember, we +all need you now. Santos, that was an inspiration to get Mrs. Dunlap +on our side." + +Somehow she felt uncomfortable. She half imagined that a frown had +flitted over Santos' face. + +"Are you going to Brooklyn?" she asked him. + +"No, we shall be working at the Junta late to-night," he replied, as +they parted at the subway, he and Gordon to secure the option on the +guns, she to plan for the morrow. + +"I have made a good beginning," she congratulated herself, when, +later in her rooms, she was going over the list of names of +commission merchants who handled produce of South American +countries. + +There was a tap on the door. + +Quickly, she shoved the list into the drawer of the table. + +"A gentleman to see you, downstairs, ma'am," announced the maid. + +As she pushed aside the portieres, her heart gave a leap--it was +Drummond. + +"Mrs. Dunlap," began the wily detective, seeming to observe +everything with eyes that seldom had the appearance of looking at +anything, "I think you will recall that we have met before." + +Constance bit her lip. "And why again?" she queried curtly. + +"I am informed," he went on coolly ignoring her curtness, "that +there is a guest in this house named Santos--Ramon Santos." + +He said it in a half insinuating, half questioning tone. + +"You might inquire of the landlady," replied Constance, now +perfectly composed. + +"Mrs. Dunlap," he burst forth, exasperated, "what is the use of +beating about? Do you know the real character of this Santos!" + +"It is a matter of perfect indifference," she returned. + +"Then you do not think a warning from me worth troubling about?" +demanded the detective. + +Constance continued to stand as if to terminate the interview. + +"I came here," continued the detective showing no evidence of taking +the hint, "to make a proposition to you. Mrs. Dunlap, you are in bad +again. But this time there is a chance for you to get out without +risk. I--I think I may talk plainly? We understand each other!" + +His manner had changed. Constance could not have described to +herself the loathing she felt for the man as it suddenly flashed +over her what he was after. If she had resented his familiarity +before, it brought the stinging blood to her cheeks now to realize +that he was actually seeking to persuade her to betray her friends. + +"Do you want to know what I think?" she scorned, then without +waiting added, "I think you are a crook--a blackmailer,--that's what +I think of a private detective like you." + +The defiance of the little woman amazed even Drummond. Instead of +fear as of the pursued, Constance Dunlap showed all the boldness of +the pursuer. + +"You have got to stop this swindling," the detective raged, taking a +step closer to her. "I know the bankers you have fooled. I know how +much you have worked them for." + +"Swindling?" she repeated coolly, in assumed surprise. "Who says I +am swindling?" + +"You know well enough what I mean--this revolution that is being +planned to bring about the new state of Vespuccia, as your friends +Santos and Gordon call it." + +"Vespuccia--Santos--Gordon?" + +"Yes," he shouted, "Vespuccia--Santos--Gordon. And I'll go further. +I'll tell you something you may not care to hear." + +Drummond leaned over closer to her in his favorite bulldozing manner +when he dealt with a woman. All the malevolence of the human +bloodhound seemed concentrated in his look. + +"Who forged those Carlton Realty checks?" he hissed. "Who played off +the weakness of Dumont and Beverley against the clever thefts of +Murray Dodge! Who is using a counterfeiter and a soldier of fortune +and swindling honest American bankers and business men as no man +crook--you seem to like that word--crook--could ever do?" + +Constance met him calmly. "Oh," she laughed airily, "I suppose you +mean to imply that it is I." + +"I don't imply," he ground out, "I assert--accuse." + +Constance shrugged her pretty shoulders. + +"I want to tell you that I am employed by the Central American +consulates in this city," blustered Drummond. "And I am waiting only +for one thing. The moment an order is given for the withdrawal of +that stuff from the little shop in South Street--you know what I +mean--I am ready. I shall not be alone, then. You will have the +power of the United States Secret Service to deal with, this time, +my clever lady." + +"Well, what of that?" + +"There is this much of it. I warn you now against working with this +Santos. He--you--can make no move that we do not know." + +Why had Drummond come to see her? Constance was asking herself. The +very insolence of the man seemed to arouse all the combativeness of +her nature. The detective had thought to "throw a scare into" her. +She turned suddenly and swept out of the room. + +"I thank you for your kindness," she said icily. "It is unnecessary. +Good-night." + +In her own room she paced the floor nervously, now that the strain +was off. Should she desert Santos and save herself? He had more need +of her help now than ever before. She did not stop to analyze her +own feelings. She knew he had been making love to her during the +past week as only a Spaniard could. It fascinated her without +blinding her. Yes, she would match her wits against this detective, +clever though she knew he was. But Santos must be warned. + +Santos and Gordon were alone when she burst in on them, +breathlessly, an hour later at the Junta. + +"What is the matter?" inquired Ramon quickly, placing a chair for +her. + +Gordon looked his admiration for the little woman, though he did not +speak it. She saw him cast a sidewise glance at Santos and herself. + +Though the three were friends, it was evident to her that Gordon did +not trust Santos any further than the suspicious Anglo-Saxon trusts +a foreigner usually when there is a woman in the case. + +"The Secret Service!" exclaimed Constance. "I have just had a visit +from a private detective employed by one of the consulates. They +know too much. He has threatened to tell all to the Secret Service, +has even had the effrontery to ask me to betray you." + +"The scoundrel," burst out Santos impulsively. + +"You are not frightened?" Gordon asked quickly. + +"On the contrary, I expected something of the sort soon, but not +from this man. I can meet him!" + +"Good," exclaimed the Captain. + +There was that in his voice that caused her to look at him quickly. +Santos had noticed it, too, and a sullen scowl spread over his face. + +Intuitively Constance read the two men before her. She had fled from +one problem to a greater. Both Santos and Gordon were in love with +her. + +In the whirl of this new discovery, two things alone crowded all +else from her mind. She must contrive to hold off Drummond until +that part of the expedition which was ready could be got off. And +she must play the jealous rivals against each other with such +finesse as to keep them separated. + +Far into the night after she had left the Junta she debated the +question with herself. She could not turn back now. The attentions +of Gordon were offensive. Yet she could have given no other reason +than that she liked Santos the better. Yet what was Santos to her, +after all? Once she had let herself go too far. She must be careful +in this case. She must not allow this to be other than a business +proposition. + +The crisis for her came sooner than she had anticipated. It was the +day after the visit of Drummond. She was waiting at the Junta alone +for Santos when Gordon entered. She had dreaded just that. There was +no mistaking the man. + +"Mrs. Dunlap," began Gordon bending down close over her. + +She was almost trembling with emotion, and he saw it. + +"You can read me like a book," he hurried on, mistaking her +feelings. "I can see that you know how much I think of you--how much +I--" + +"No, no," she implored. "Don't talk to me that way. Remember--there +is work to do. After it is over--then--" + +"Work!" he scorned. "What is the whole of Central America to me +compared to you?" + +"Captain Gordon!" she stood facing him. "You must not. Listen to me. +You do not know--I--please, please leave me. Let me think." + +She did not dare accept him; she could not reject him. It seemed +that with an almost superhuman effort Gordon gripped himself. But he +did not go. + +Constance was distracted, what if Santos with his fiery nature +should find Gordon talking to her alone? She must temporize. + +"One week," she murmured. "When the Arroyo sails--that night--I +shall give you my answer." + +Gordon shot a peculiar glance at her--half doubt, half surprise. But +she was gone. As she hurried unexpectedly out of the Junta she +fancied she caught a glimpse of a familiar figure. It must have been +Drummond. Every move at the Junta was being watched. + +At the boarding house all night she waited. She must see Santos. +Plan after plan whirled through her brain as the hours dragged. + +It was not until almost morning that, seeing a light, he tapped +cautiously at her door. + +"You were not at the Junta to-night," he remarked. + +There was something of jealousy in the tone. + +"No. There is something I wanted to say to you where we should not +be interrupted," she answered as he sat down. + +A fold of her filmy house dress fluttered near him. Involuntarily he +moved closer. His eyes met hers. She could feel the passions surging +in the man beside her. + +"I saw Drummond again, to-day," she began. "Captain Gordon--" + +The intense look of hatred that blazed in the eyes of Santos +frightened her. What might have happened if he instead of Gordon had +met her at the Junta she could not have said. But now she must guard +against it. If flashed over her that there was only one thing to be +done. + +She rose and laid her hand on his arm. As quickly the look changed. +There was only one way to do it; she must make this man think they +understood each other without saying so. + +"You must get the counterfeiting plant down on the island-- +immediately--alone. Don't tell any of the others until it is there +safely. You were going to send it down on the Arroyo next week. It +must not go from New York at all. It must be shipped by rail, and +then from New Orleans. You must--" + +"But--Gordon?" His voice was hoarse. + +She looked at Santos long and earnestly. "I will take care of him," +she said in a tone that Santos could not mistake. "No--Ramon, no. +After the revolution--perhaps--who shall say? But now--to work!" + +It was with a sigh of relief that she sank to rest at last when he +had gone. For the moment she had won. + +Piece by piece, Santos and she secretly carried out the goods that +had already been collected at the Junta, during the next few days. +Without a word to a soul they were shipped south. The boxes and +barrels remained in the musty shop, apparently undisturbed. + +Next the order for the arms and ammunition was quietly diverted so +that they, too, were on their way to New Orleans. Instead, cases +resembling them were sent to the Junta headquarters. Drummond, least +of all, must be allowed to think that there was any change in their +plans. + +While Santos was at work gathering the parts, the stamping machine, +the press, the dies, the plates, and the rest of the counterfeiting +plant which had not yet been delivered, Constance, during the hours +that she was not collecting money from the concession-grabbers, +haunted the Junta. There was every evidence of activity there as the +week advanced. + +She was between two fires, yet never had she enjoyed the tang of +adventure more than now. It was a keen pleasure to feel that she was +outwitting Drummond when, as some apparently insurmountable +difficulty arose, she would overcome it. More delicate was it, +however, to preserve the balance between Santos and Gordon. In fact +it seemed that the more she sought to avoid Gordon, the more +jealously did he pursue her. It was a tangled skein of romance and +intrigue that Constance was weaving. + +At last all was ready. It was the night before the departure of +Santos for the south. Constance had decided on the last interview in +her own rooms where the first had been. + +"I shall go ahead preparing as if to ship the things on the Arroyo," +she said. "Let me know by the code the moment you are ready." + +Santos was looking at her, oblivious of everything else. + +He reached over and took her hand. She knew this was the moment +against which she had steeled herself. + +"Come with me," he asked suddenly. + +She could feel his breath, hotly, on her cheek. + +It was the final struggle. If she let go of herself, all would be +lost. + +"No, Ramon," she said softly, but without withdrawing her hand. "It +can never be--listen." + +It was terrific, to hold in cheek a nature such as his. + +"I went into this scheme for--for money. I have it. We have raised +nearly forty thousand dollars. Twenty thousand you have given me as +my share." + +She paused. He was paying no attention to her words. His whole self +was centered on her face. + +"With me," she continued, half wearily withdrawing her hand as she +assumed the part she had decided on for herself, "with me, Ramon, +love is dead--dead. I have seen too much of the world. Nothing has +any fascination for me now except excitement, money--" + +He gently leaned over and recovered the hand that she had withdrawn. +Quickly he raised it to his lips as he had done that first night. + +"You are mine," he whispered, "not his." + +She did not withdraw the hand this time. + +"No--not his--nobody's." + +For a moment the adventurers understood each other. + +"Not his," he muttered fiercely as he threw his arms about her +wildly, passionately. + +"Nobody's," she panted as she gave one answering caress, then +struggled from him. + +She had conquered not only Ramon Santos but Constance Dunlap. + +Early the next morning he was speeding southward over the clicking +rails. + +Every energy must be bent toward keeping the new scheme secret until +it was carried out successfully. Not a hint must get to Drummond +that there was any change in the activities of the Junta. As for the +Junta itself, there was no one of those who believed implicitly in +Santos whom Constance need fear, except Gordon. Gordon was the bete +noire. + +Two days passed and she was able to guard the secret, as well as to +act as though nothing had happened. Santos had left a short note for +the Junta telling them that he would be away for a short time +putting the finishing touches on the purchase of the arms. The +arrival of a cartload of cases at the Junta, which Constance +arranged for herself, bore out the letter. Still, she waited +anxiously for word from him. + +The day set for the sailing of the Arroyo arrived and with it at +last a telegram: "Buy corn, oats, wheat. Sell cotton." + +It was the code, telling of the safe arrival of the rifles, +cartridges and the counterfeiting plant in New Orleans, a little +late, but safe. "Sell cotton," meant "I sail to-night." + +On the way over to the Junta, she had noticed one of Drummond's +shadows dogging her. She must do anything to keep the secret until +that night. + +She hurried into the dusty ship chandlery. There was Gordon. + +"Good morning, Mrs. Dunlap," he cried. "You are just the person I am +looking for. Where is Santos? Has the plan been changed?" + +Constance thought she detected a shade of jealousy in the tone. At +any rate, Gordon was more attentive than ever. + +"I think he is in Bridgeport," she replied as casually as she could. +"Your ship, you know, sails to-night. He has sent word to me to give +orders that all the goods here at the Junta be ready to cart over by +truck to Brooklyn. There has been no change. The papers are to be +signed during the day and she is to be scheduled to sail late in the +afternoon with the tide. Only, as you know, some pretext must delay +you. You will hold her at the pier for us. He trusts all that to you +as a master hand at framing such excuses that seem plausible." + +Gordon leaned over closer to her. He was positively revolting to her +in the role of admirer. But she must not offend him--yet. + +"And my answer!" he asked. + +There was something about him that made Constance almost draw away +involuntarily. + +"To-night--at the pier," she murmured forcing a smile. + +Shortly after dark the teams started their lumbering way across the +city and the bridge. Messengers, stationed on the way, were to +report the safe progress of the trucks to Brooklyn. + +Constance slipped away from the boardinghouse, down through the +deserted streets to the waterfront, leaving word at home that any +message was to be sent by a trusty boy to the pier. + +It was a foggy and misty night on the water, an ideal night for the +gun-runner. She was relieved to learn that there had been not a +hitch so far. Still, she reasoned, that was natural. Drummond, even +if he had not been outwitted, would scarcely have spoiled the game +until the last moment. + +On the Arroyo every one was chafing. Below decks, the engineer and +his assistants were seeing that the machinery was in perfect order. +Men in the streets were posted to give Gordon warning of any danger. + +In the river a tug was watching for a possible police boat. On the +wharf the only footfalls were those of Gordon himself and an +assistant from the Junta. It was dreary waiting, and Constance drew +her coat more closely around her, as she shivered in the night wind +and tried to brace herself against the unexpected. + +At last the welcome muffled rumble of heavily laden carts disturbed +the midnight silence of the street leading to the river. + +At once a score of men sprang from the hold of the ship, as if by +magic. One by one the cases were loaded. The men were working +feverishly by the light of battle lanterns--big lamps with +reflectors so placed as to throw the light exactly where it was +needed and nowhere else. They were taking aboard the Arroyo dozens +of coffin-like wooden cases, and bags and boxes, smaller and even +heavier. Silently and swiftly they toiled. + +It was risky work, too, at night and in the tense haste. There was a +muttered exclamation--a heavy case had dropped! a man had gone down +with a broken leg. + +It was a common thing with the gun-runners. The crew of the Arroyo +had expected it. The victim of such an accident could not be sent to +a hospital ashore. He was carried, as gently as the rough hands +could carry anything, to one side, where he lay silently waiting for +the ship's surgeon who had been engaged for just such an emergency. +Constance bent over and made the poor fellow as comfortable as she +could. There was never a whimper from him, but he looked his +gratitude. + +Scarcely a fraction of a minute had been lost. The last cases were +now being loaded. The tug crawled up and made fast. Already the +empty trucks were vanishing in the misty darkness, one by one, as +muffled as they came. + +Suddenly lights flashed through the fog on the river. + +There was a hurried tread of feet on the land from around the corner +of a bleak, forbidding black warehouse. + +They were surrounded. On one side was the police boat Patrol. On the +other was Drummond. With both was the Secret Service. The surprise +was complete. + +Constance turned to Gordon. He was gone. + +Before she could move, some one seized her. + +"Where's Santos?" demanded a hoarse voice in her ear. She looked up +to see Drummond. + +She shut her lips tightly, secure in the secret that Ramon was at +the moment or soon would be on the Gulf, out of reach. + +Across in the fog she strained her eyes. Was that the familiar +figure of Gordon moving in the dim light? + +There he was, now,--with Drummond, the police, and the Secret +Service. It was exactly as she had suspected to herself, and a smile +played over her face. + +All was excitement, shouts, muttered imprecations. Constance was the +calmest in the crowd--deaf to even Drummond's "third degree." + +They had begun to break open the boxes marked "salt" and "corn." + +A loud exclamation above the sharp crunching of the axes escaped +Gordon. "Damn them! They've put one across on us!" + +The boxes of "salt" and "corn" contained--salt and corn. + +Not a stock of a rifle, not a barrel, not a cartridge was in any of +them as the axes crashed in one case after another. + +A boy with a telegram emerged indiscreetly from the misty shadows. +Drummond seized it, tore it open, and read, "Buy cotton." + +It was the code: "I am off safely." + +The double cross had worked. Constance was thinking, as she smiled +to herself, of the money, her share, which she had hidden. There was +not a scrap of tangible evidence against her, except what Santos had +carried with him in the filibustering expedition already off from +New Orleans. Her word would stand against that of all of the victims +combined before any jury that could be empaneled. + +"You thought I needed a warning," she cried, facing Drummond with +eyes that flashed scorn at the skulking figure of Gordon behind him. +"But the next time you employ a stool-pigeon to make love," she +added, "reckon in that thing you detectives scorn--a woman's +intuition." + + + + +CHAPTER IV + +THE GAMBLERS + + +"Won't you come over to see me to-night? Just a friendly little +game, my dear--our own crowd, you know." + +There was something in the purring tone of the invitation of the +woman across the hall from Constance Dunlap's apartment that aroused +her curiosity. + +"Thank you. I believe I will," answered Constance. "It's lonely in a +big city without friends." + +"Indeed it is," agreed Bella LeMar. "I've been watching you for some +time and wondering how you stand it. Now be sure to come, won't +you?" + +"I shall be glad to do so," assured Constance, as they reached their +floor and parted at the elevator door. + +She had been watching the other woman, too, although she had said +nothing about it. + +"A friendly little game," repeated Constance to herself. "That +sounds as if it had the tang of an adventure in it. I'll go." + +The Mayfair Arms, in which she had taken a modest suite of rooms, +was a rather recherche apartment, and one of her chief delights +since she had been there had been in watching the other occupants. + +There had been much to interest her in the menage across the hall. +Mrs. Bella LeMar, as she called herself, was of a type rather common +in the city, an attractive widow on the safe side of forty, well- +groomed, often daringly gowned. Her brown eyes snapped vivacity, and +the pert little nose and racy expression of the mouth confirmed the +general impression that Mrs. LeMar liked the good things of life. + +Quite naturally, Constance observed, her neighbor had hosts of +friends who often came early and stayed late, friends who seemed to +exude, as it were, an air of prosperity and high living. Clearly, +she was a woman to cultivate. Constance felt even more interest in +her, now that Mrs. LeMar had pursued a bowing acquaintance to the +point of an unsolicited invitation. + +"A friendly little game," she speculated. "What IS the game?" + + That night found Constance at the buzzer beside the heavy mahogany +door across the hall. She wore a new evening gown of warm red. Her +face glowed with heightened color, and her nerves were on the qui +vive for the unlocking at last of the mystery of the fascinating +Mrs. LeMar. + +"So glad to see you, my dear," smiled Bella, holding out her hand +engagingly. "You are just in time." + +Already several of the guests had arrived. There was an air of +bonhomie as Bella presented them to Constance--a stocky, red-faced +man with a wide chest and narrow waist, Ross Watson; a tall, +sloping-shouldered man who inclined his head forward earnestly when +he talked to a lady and spoke with animation, Haddon Halsey; and a +fair-haired, baby-blue eyed little woman gowned in becoming pink, +Mrs. Lansing Noble. + +"Now we're all here--just enough for a game," remarked Bella in a +business-like tone. "Oh, I beg pardon--you play, Mrs. Dunlap?" she +added to Constance. + +"Oh, yes," Constance replied. "Almost anything--a little bit." + +She had already noted that the chief object in the room, after all, +appeared to be a round table. About it the guests seemed naturally +to take their places. + +"What shall it be to-night--bridge?" asked Watson, nonchalantly +fingering a little pack of gilt-edged cards which Bella had +produced. + +"Oh, no," cried Mrs. Noble. "Bridge is such a bore." + +"Rum?" + +"No--no. The regular game--poker." + +"A dollar limit?" + +"Oh, make it five," drawled Halsey impatiently. + +Watson said nothing, but Bella patted Halsey's hand in approval, as +if all were on very good terms indeed. "I think that will make a +nice little game," she cut in, opening a drawer from which she took +out a box of blue, red and white chips of real ivory. Watson seemed +naturally to assume the role of banker. + +"Aren't you going to join us?" asked Constance. + +"Oh, I seldom play. You know, I'm too busy entertaining you people," +excused Bella, as she bustled out of the room, reappearing a few +minutes later with the maid and a tray of slender hollow-stemmed +glasses with a bottle wrapped in a white napkin in a pail of ice. + + Mrs. Noble shuffled the cards with practiced hand and Watson kept a +calculating eye on every face. Luck was not with Constance on the +first deal and she dropped out. + +Mrs. Noble and Halsey were betting eagerly. Watson was coolly +following along until the show-down--which he won. + +"Of all things," exclaimed the little woman in pink, plainly +betraying her vexation at losing. "Will luck never turn?" + +Halsey said nothing. + +Constance watched in amazement. This was no "friendly little game." +The faces were too tense, too hectic. The play was too high, and the +desire to win too great. Mrs. LeMar was something more than a +gracious hostess in her solicitude for her guests. + +All the time the pile of chips in front of Watson kept building up. +At each new deal a white chip was placed in a little box--the kitty +--for the "cards and refreshments." + +It was in reality one of the new style gambling joints for men and +women. + +The gay parties of callers on Mrs. LeMar were nothing other than +gamblers. The old gambling dens of the icebox doors and steel +gratings, of white-coated servants and free food and drink, had +passed away with "reform." Here was a remarkable new phase of +sporting life which had gradually taken its place. + +Constance had been looking about curiously in the meantime. On a +table she saw copies of the newspapers which published full accounts +of the races, something that looked like a racing sheet, and a +telephone conveniently located near writing materials. It was a +poolroom, too, then, in the daytime, she reasoned. + +Surely, in the next room, when the light was on, she saw what looked +like a miniature roulette wheel, not one of the elaborate affairs of +bright metal and ebony, but one of those that can almost be packed +into a suitcase and carried about easily. + +That was the secret of the flashily dressed men and women who called +on Bella LeMar. They were risking everything, perhaps even honor +itself, on a turn of a wheel, the fall of a card, a guess on a +horse. + +Why had Bella LeMar invited her here? she asked herself. + +At first Constance was a little bit afraid that she might have +plunged into too deep water. She made up her mind to quit when her +losses reached a certain nominal point. But they did not reach it. +Perhaps the gamblers were too clever. But Constance seemed always to +keep just a little bit ahead of the game. + +One person in particular in the group interested her as she +endeavored intuitively to take their measure. It was Haddon Halsey, +immaculately garbed, with all those little touches of smartness +which women like to see. + +Once she caught Halsey looking intently at her. Was it he who was +letting her win at his expense! Or was his attention to her causing +him to neglect his own game and play it poorly? + +She decided to quit. She was a few dollars ahead. For excuse she +pleaded a headache. + +Bella accepted the excuse with a cordial nod and a kind inquiry +whether she might not like to lie down. + +"No, thank you," murmured Constance. "But the cards make me nervous +to-night. Just let me sit here. I'll be all right in a minute." + +As she lolled back on a divan near the players Constance noted, or +thought she noted, now and then exchanges of looks between Bella and +Watson. What was the bond of intimacy between them? She noted on +Mrs. Noble's part that she was keenly alive to everything that +Halsey did. It was a peculiar quadrangle. + +Halsey was losing heavily in his efforts to retrieve his fortunes. +He said nothing, but accepted the losses grimly. Mrs. Noble, +however, after each successive loss seemed more and more nervous. + +At last, with a hasty look at her wrist watch, she gave a little +suppressed scream. + +"How the time flies!" she cried. "Who would have thought it as late +as that? Really I must go. I expect my husband back from a +director's meeting at ten, and it's much easier to be home than to +have to think up an excuse. No, Haddon, don't disturb yourself. I +shall get a cab at the door. Let me see--two hundred and twenty- +eight dollars." She paused as if the loss staggered her. "I'll have +to sign another I O U for it, Bella. There!" + +She left in a flutter, as if some one had winked out the light by +which she, poor little butterfly, had singed her wings, and there +was nothing for her but to fly away alone in the darkness with her +secret. + +Halsey accompanied her to the door. For a moment she raised a +questioning face to his, and shot a half covert glance at Constance. +Then, as if with an effort, adhering to her first resolution to go +alone, she whispered earnestly, "I hope you win. Luck MUST turn." + +Halsey plunged back into the game, now with Bella holding a hand. He +played recklessly, then conservatively. It made no difference. The +cards seemed always against him. Constance began really to feel +alarmed at his manner. + +Once, however, he chanced to look up at her. Something in her face +must have impressed him. Turning, he flung down the cards in disgust. +"That's enough for to-night," he exclaimed, rising and +draining another glass on the tray. + +"Luck will come your way soon again," urged Bella. "It all averages +up in the end, you know. It has to." + +"How did you enjoy the evening!" insinuated Bella. + +"Very much," replied Constance enthusiastically. "It is so exciting, +you know." + +"You must come again when more of my friends are here." + +"I should like to. But to-night was very nice." + +Halsey looked at her contemplatively. She had risen to go. As she +took a step or two toward the door, still facing them, she found +Halsey at her side. + +"Shall we go over to Jack's for a bite to eat?" he whispered. + +There was as much of appeal in his undertone as of invitation. + +"Thank you. I shall be glad to go," Constance assented quickly. + +There was something about Haddon Halsey that interested her. Perhaps +Bella and Watson exchanged a knowing glance as she crossed the hall +for her wraps. Whatever it was, Constance determined to see the +thing through to a finish, confident that she was quite able to take +care of herself. + +Outside the raw night air smote dankly on their fevered faces. As +they walked along briskly, too glad to get into the open to summon a +car, Constance happened to turn. She had an uncomfortable feeling. +She could have sworn some one was following them. She said nothing +about a figure a few feet behind them. + +The lively, all-night restaurant was thronged. Halsey seemed to +throw himself into the gayety with reckless abandon, ordering about +twice as much as they could eat and drink. But in spite of the +fascination of the scene, Constance could not forget the dark figure +skulking behind them in the shadow of the street. + +Once she looked up. At another table she could just catch a glimpse +of Drummond, of the Burr Detective Agency, alone, oblivious. + +Never did he look at them. There was nothing to indicate that he was +even interested. But Constance knew that that was the method of his +shadowing. Never for a moment, she knew, did he permit himself to +look into the eyes of his quarry, even for the most fleeting glance. + +She knew, too, that there must be some psychological reason for his +not looking at them, as he otherwise must have done, if only by +chance. It was the method followed by the expert modern trailer. She +knew that if one looks at a person intently while in a public place, +for instance, it will not be long before the gaze will be returned. +Try as she would, she could not catch Drummond's eye, however. + +Halsey, now that the strain of the game was off, was rattling along +about his losses in an undertone to her. + +"But what of it?" he concluded. "Any day luck may change. As for +myself, I go always on the assumption that I am the one exception-- +unlucky both at cards and love. If the event proves I am right, I am +not disappointed. If I am wrong, then I am happy." + +There was something in the tone of the whimsicality that alarmed +her. It covered a desperation which she felt instinctively. + +Why was he talking thus to her, almost a stranger? Surely it could +not have been for that that Bella LeMar had brought them together. + +Gradually it came to her. The man had really, honestly been struck +by her from the moment of their introduction. Instead of allowing +others, to say nothing of himself, to lead her on in the path he and +Mrs. Noble and the others had entered, he was taking the bit in his +teeth, like a high-strung race horse, and was running away, now that +Bella LeMar for the moment did not hold the reins. He was warning +her openly against the game! + +Somehow the action appealed to Constance. It was genuine, +disinterested. Secretly, it was flattering. Still, she said nothing +about Bella, nor about Mrs. Noble. Halsey seemed to appreciate the +fact. His face showed plainly as if he had said it that here, at +least, was one woman who was not always talking about others. + +There had been a rapid-fire suddenness about his confidences which +had fascinated her. + +"Are you in business?" she ventured. + +"Oh, yes," he laughed grimly. "I'm in business--treasurer of the +Exporting & Manufacturing Company." + +"But," she pursued, looking him frankly in the face, "I should think +you'd be afraid to--er--become involved--" + +"I know I am being watched," he broke in impatiently. "You see, I'm +bonded, and the bonding companies keep a pretty sharp lookout on +your habits. Oh, the crash will come some day. Until it does--let us +make the most of it--while it lasts." + +He said the words bitterly. Constance was confirmed in her original +suspicion of him now. Halsey was getting deeper and deeper into the +moral quagmire. She had seen his interest in Mrs. Noble. Had Bella +LeMar hoped that she, too, would play will-o '-the-wisp in leading +him on? + +Over the still half-eaten supper she watched Halsey keenly. A +thousand questions about himself, about Mrs. Noble, rushed through +her mind. Should she be perfectly frank? + +"Are you--are you using the company's money!" she asked at length +pointedly. + +He had not expected the question, and his evident intention was to +deny it. But he met her eye. He tried to escape it, but could not. +What was there about this little woman that had compelled his +attention and interest from the moment he had been introduced? + +Quickly he tried to reason it out in his heart. It was not that she +was physically attractive to him. Mrs. Noble was that It was not +that fascination which Bella aroused, the adventuress, the siren, +the gorgon. In Constance there was something different. She was a +woman of the world, a man's woman. Then, too, she was so brutally +frank in inviting his confidences. + +Over and over he turned the answer he had intended to make. He +caught her eye again and knew that it was of no use. + +"Yes," he muttered, as a cloud spread over his face at not being +able, as usual, to let the gay life put the truth out of his mind. +"Yes, I have been using--their funds." + +As if a switch had been turned, the light broke on Constance. She +saw herself face to face with one of the dark shadows in the great +city of high lights. + +"How?" she asked simply, leaning forward over the table. + +There was no resisting her. Quickly he told her all. + +"At first with what little money of my own I had I played. Then I +began to sign I O U's and notes. Now I have been taking blank stock +certificates, some of those held as treasury stock in the company's +safe. They have never been issued, so that by writing in the +signatures of myself and the other officers necessary, I have been +able to use it to pay off my losses in gambling." + +As he unfolded to her the plan which he had adopted, Constance +listened in amazement. + +"And you know that you are watched," she repeated, changing the +subject, and sensing rather than seeing that Drummond was watching +them then. + +"Yes," he continued freely. "The International Surety, in which I'm +bonded, has a sort of secret service of its own, I understand. It is +the eye that is never closed, but is screened from the man under +bond. When you go into the Broadway night life too often, for +instance," he pursued, waving his hand about at the gay tables, "run +around in fast motors with faster company--well, they know it. Who +is watching, I do not know. But with me it will be as it has been +when others came to the end. Some day they will come to me, and they +are going to say, 'We don't like your conduct. Where do you get this +money?' They will know, then, too. But before that time comes I want +to win, to be in a position to tell them to go--" + +Halsey clenched his fist. It was evident that he did not intend to +quit, no matter what the odds against him. + +Constance thought of the silent figure of Drummond at the other +table--watching, watching. She felt sure that it was to him that the +Surety Company had turned over the work of shadowing Halsey. Day +after day, probably, the unobtrusive detective had been trailing +Halsey from the moment he left his apartment until the time when he +returned, if he did return. There was nothing of his goings and +comings that was not already an open book to them. Of what use was +it, then, for Halsey to fight! + +It was a situation such as she delighted in. She had made up her +mind. She would help Haddon Halsey to beat the law. + +Already it seemed as if he knew that their positions had been +reversed. He had started to warn her; she now was saving him. + +Yet even then he showed the better side of his nature. + +"There is some one else, Mrs. Dunlap," he remarked earnestly, "who +needs your help even more than I do." + +It had cost him something to say that. He had not been able to +accept her help, even under false pretenses. Eagerly he watched to +see whether jealousy of the other woman played any part with her. + +"I understand," she said with a hasty glance at her watch and a +covert look at Drummond. "Let us go. If we are to win we must keep +our heads clear. I shall see you to-morrow." + +For hours during the rest of the night Constance tossed fitfully in +half sleep, thinking over the problem she had assumed. + +How was she to get at the inside truth of what was going on across +the hall? That was the first question. + +In her perplexity, she rose and looked out of the window at the now +lightening gray of the courtyard. There dangled the LeMar telephone +wire, only a few feet from her own window. + +Suddenly an idea flashed over her. In her leisure she had read much +and thought more. She recalled having heard of a machine that just +fitted her needs. + +As soon as she was likely to find places of business open Constance +started out on her search. It was early in the forenoon before she +returned, successful. The machine which she had had in mind proved +to be an oak box, perhaps eighteen inches long, by half the width, +and a foot deep. On its face it bore a little dial. Inside there +appeared a fine wire on a spool which unwound gradually by +clockwork, and, after passing through a peculiar small arrangement, +was wound up on another spool. Flexible silk-covered copper wires +led from the box. + +Carefully Constance reached across the dizzy intervening space, and +drew in the slack LeMar telephone wires. With every care she cut +into them as if she were making an extension, and attached the wires +from the box. + +Perhaps half an hour later the door buzzer sounded. Constance could +scarcely restrain her surprise as Mrs. Lansing Noble stepped in +quickly and shut the door herself. + +"I don't want her to know I'm here," she whispered, nodding across +the hall. + +"Won't you take off your things?" asked Constance cordially. + +"No, I can't stay," returned her visitor nervously, pausing. + +Constance wondered why she had come. Was she, too, trying to warn a +newcomer against the place! + +She said nothing, but now that the effort had been made and the +little woman had gone actually so far, she felt the reaction. She +sank down into an easy chair and rested her pretty head on her +delicately gloved hand. + +"Oh, Mrs. Dunlap," she began convulsively, "I hope you will pardon +an entire stranger for breaking in on you so informally--but--but I +can't--I can't help it. I must tell some one." + +Accustomed as she was now to strange confidences, Constance bent +over and patted the little hand of Mrs. Noble comfortingly. + +"You seemed to take it so coolly," went on the other woman. "For me +the glamour, the excitement are worse than champagne. But you could +stop, even when you were winning. Oh, my God! What am I to do? What +will happen when my husband finds out what I have done!" + +Tearfully, the little woman poured out the sordid story of her +fascination for the game, of her losses, of the pawning of her +jewels to pay her losses and keep them secret, if only for a few +days, until that mythical time when luck would change. + +"When I started," she blurted out with a bitter little laugh, "I +thought I'd make a little pin money. That's how I began--with that +and the excitement. And now this is the end." + +She had risen and was pacing the floor wildly. + +"Mrs. Dunlap," she cried, pausing before Constance, "to-day I am +nothing more nor less than a 'capper,' as they call it, for a +gambling resort." + +She was almost hysterical. The contrast with the gay, respectable, +prosperous-looking woman at Bella's was appalling. Constance +realized to the full what were the tragedies that were enacted +elsewhere. + +As she looked at the despairing woman, she could reconstruct the +terrible situation. Cultivated, well-bred, fashionably gowned, a +woman like Mrs. Noble served admirably the purpose of luring men on. +If there had been only women or only men involved, it perhaps would +not have been so bad. But there were both. Constance saw that men +were wanted, men who could afford to lose not hundreds, but +thousands, men who are always the heaviest players. And so Mrs. +Noble and other unfortunate women no doubt were sent out on Broadway +to the cafes and restaurants, sent out even among those of their own +social circle, always to lure men on, to involve themselves more and +more in the web into which they had flown. Bella had hoped even to +use Constance! + +Mrs. Noble had paused again. There was evident sincerity in her as +she looked deeply into the eyes of Constance. + +Nothing but desperation could have wrung her inmost secrets from her +to another woman. + +"I saw them trying to throw you together with Haddon Halsey," she +said, almost tragically. "It was I who introduced Haddon to them. I +was to get a percentage of his losses to pay off my own--but"--her +feelings seemed to overcome her and wildly, desperately, she added-- +"but I can't--I can't. I--I must rescue him--I must." + +It was a strange situation. Constance reasoned it out quickly. What +a wreck of life these two were making! Not only they were involved, +but others who as yet knew nothing, Mrs. Noble's husband, the family +of Halsey. She must help. + +"Mrs. Noble," said Constance calmly, "can you trust me?" + +She shot a quick glance at Constance. "Yes," she murmured. + +"Then to-night visit Mrs. LeMar as though nothing had happened. +Meanwhile I will have thought out a plan." + +It was late in the afternoon when Constance saw Halsey again, this +time in his office, where he had been waiting impatiently for some +word from her. The relief at seeing her showed only too plainly on +his face. + +"This inaction is killing me," he remarked huskily. "Has anything +happened to-day!" + +She said nothing about the visit of Mrs. Noble. Perhaps it was +better that each should not know yet that the other was worried. + +"Yes," she replied, "much has happened. I cannot tell you now. But +to-night let us all go again as though nothing had occurred." + +"They have twenty-five thousand dollars in stock certificates +already which I have given them," he remarked anxiously. + +"Some way--any way, you must get them back for a time. Let me see +some of the blanks." + +Halsey shut the door. From a secret drawer of his desk he drew a +package of beautifully engraved paper. + +Constance looked at it a moment. Then with a fountain pen, across +the front of each, she made a few marks. Halsey looked on eagerly. +As she handed them back to him, not a sign showed on any part of +them. + +"You must tell them that there is something wrong with the others, +that you will give them other certificates of your own about which +there is no question. Tell them anything to get them back. Here-- +take this other fountain pen, sign the new certificates with that, +in their presence so that they will suspect nothing. To-night I +shall expect you to play up to the limit, to play into Mrs. Noble's +hand and assume her losses, too. I shall meet you there at nine."' + +Constance had laid her plans quickly. That night she waited in her +own apartment until she heard Halsey enter across the hall. She had +determined to give him plenty of time to obtain the old forged +certificates and substitute for them the new forgeries. + +Perhaps half an hour later she heard Mrs. Noble enter. As Constance +followed her in, the effusive greeting of Bella LeMar showed that as +yet she suspected nothing. A quick glance at Halsey brought an +answering nod and an unconscious motion toward his pocket where he +had stuffed the old certificates carelessly. + +A moment later they had plunged into the game. The play that night +was spirited. Soon the limit was the roof. + +From the start things seemed to run against Halsey and Mrs. Noble +even worse than before. At the same time fortune seemed to favor +Constance. Again and again she won, until even Watson seemed to +think there was something uncanny about it. + +"Beginner's luck," remarked Bella with a forced laugh. + +Still Constance won, not much, but steadily, though not enough to +offset the larger winnings of Watson. + +Fast and furious became the play and as steadily did it go against +Halsey. Mrs. Noble retired, scarcely repressing the tears. Constance +dropped out. Only Halsey and Watson remained, fighting as if it were +a duel to the death. + +"Please stop, Halsey," pleaded Mrs. Noble. "What is the use of +tempting fortune?" + +An insane half light seemed to glow in his eyes as, with a quick +glance at Constance and a covert nod of approval from her, he forced +a smile and playfully laid his finger on Mrs. Noble's lips. + +"Double or quits, Watson," he cried. "Return the new certificates or +take others for twice the amount. Are you game?" + +"I'm on," agreed Watson coolly. + +Halsey laid down his hand in triumph. There were four kings. + +"I win," ground out Watson viciously, as he tossed down four aces. + +Constance was on her feet in a moment. + +"You are a lot of cheats and swindlers," she cried, seizing the +cards before any one could interfere. + +Deftly she laid out the four aces beside the four deuces, the four +kings beside the four queens. It was done so quickly that even +Halsey, in his amazement, could find nothing to say. Mrs. Noble +paled and was speechless. As for Bella and Watson, nothing could +have aroused them more than the open charge that they were using +false devices. + +Yet never for a moment did Watson lose his iron cynicism. + +"Prove it," he demanded. "As for Mr. Halsey, he may pay or I'll show +the stock I already hold to the proper people." + +Constance was facing Watson, as calm as he. + +"Show it," she said quietly. + +There was a knock at the door. + +"Don't let any one in," ordered Bella of the maid, who had already +opened the door. + +A man's foot had been inserted into the opening. "What's the matter, +Chloe?" + +"Good Lawd, Mis' Bella--we done been raided!" burst out the maid as +the door flew wholly open. + +Halsey staggered back. "A detective!" he exclaimed. + +"Oh, what shall I do!" wailed Mrs. Noble. "My husband will never +forgive me if this becomes known." + +Bella was as calm as a good player with a royal straight flush. + +"I've caught you at last," fairly hissed Drummond. "And you, too, +Mrs. Dunlap. Watson, I overheard something about some stock. Let me +see it. I think it will interest International Surety as well as +Exporters and Manufacturers." + +Through the still open door Constance had darted across the hall to +her apartment. + +"Not so fast," cried Drummond. "You can't escape. The front door is +guarded. You can't get out." + +She was gone, but a moment later emerged from the darkness of her +rooms, carrying the oak box. + +As she set it down on the card table, no one said a word. +Deliberately she opened the box, disclosing two spools of wire +inside. To the machine she attached several head pieces such as a +telephone operator wears. She turned a switch and the wire began to +unroll from one spool and wind up on the other again. + +A voice, or rather voices, seemed to come from the box itself. It +was uncanny. + +"Hello, is this Mrs. LeMar?" came from it. + +"What is it?" whispered Halsey, as if fearful of being overheard. + +"A telegraphone," replied Constance, shutting it off for a moment. + +"A telegraphone? What is that?" + +"A machine for registering telephone conversations, dictation, +anything of the sort you wish. It was invented by Valdemar Poulsen, +the Danish Edison. This is one of his new wire machines. The record +is made by a new process, localized charges of magnetism on this +wire. It is as permanent as the wire itself. There is only one thing +that can destroy them--rubbing over the wire with this magnet. +Listen." + +She had started the machine again. Whose voice was it calling Bella? +Constance was looking fixedly at Drummond. He shifted uneasily. + +"How much is he in for now?" pursued the voice. + +Halsey gasped. It was Drummond's own voice. + +"Two hundred and fifty shares," replied Bella's voice. + +"Good. Keep at him. Don't lose him. To-night I'll drop in." + +"And your client will make good?" she anxiously. + +"Absolutely. We will pay five thousand dollars for the evidence that +will convict him." + +Constance's little audience was stunned. But she did not let the +telegraphone pause. Skipping some unimportant calls, she began +again. + +This was a call from Bella to Watson. + +"Ross, that fellow Drummond called up to-day." + +"Yes?" + +"He is going to pull it off to-night. His client will make good-- +five thousand if they catch Halsey with the goods. How about it?" + +"Pretty soft--eh, Bella?" came back from Watson. + +"My God! it's a plant!" exclaimed Halsey, staggering and dropping +heavily into a chair. "I'm ruined. There is no way out!" + +"Wait," interrupted Constance. "Here's another call. It may serve to +explain why luck was with me to-night. I came prepared." + +"Yes, Mrs. LeMar," came another strange voice from the machine. +"We'd do anything for Mr. Watson. What is it--a pack of strippers?" + +"Yes. The aces stripped from the ends, the kings from the sides." + +The group looked eagerly at Constance. + +"From the maker of fake gambling apparatus, I find," she explained, +shutting off the machine. "They were ordering from him cards cut or +trimmed so that certain ones could be readily drawn from the deck, +or 'stripped.' Small wedge-shaped strips are trimmed off the edges +of all the other cards, leaving the aces, say, projecting just the +most minute fraction of an inch beyond the others. Everything is +done carefully. The rounded edges at the corners are recut to look +right. When the cards are shuffled the aces protrude a trifle over +the edges of the other cards. It is a simple matter for the dealer +to draw or strip out as many aces as he wants, stack them on the +bottom of the pack as he shuffles the cards, and draw them from the +bottom whenever he wants them. Strippers are one of the newest +things in swindling. Marked cards are out of date. But some decks +have the aces stripped from the ends, the kings from the sides. With +this pack, as you can see, a sucker can be dealt out the kings, +while the house player gets the aces." + +Drummond brazened it out. With a muttered oath he turned to Watson +again. "What rot is this? The stock, Watson," he repeated. "Where +is that stock I heard them talking about?" + +Mrs. Noble, forgetting all now but Halsey, paled. Bella LeMar was +fumbling at her gold mesh bag. She gave a sudden, suppressed little +scream. + +"Look!" she cried. "They are blank--those stock certificates he gave +me." + +Drummond seized them roughly from her hands. + +Where the signatures should have been there was nothing at all! + +Across the face of the stock were the words in deep black, "SAMPLE +CERTIFICATE," written in an angular, feminine hand. + +What did it mean? Halsey was as amazed as any of them. Mechanically +he turned to Constance. + +"I didn't say anything last night," she remarked incisively. "But I +had my suspicions from the first. I always look out for the purry +kind of 'my dear' woman. They have claws. Last night I watched. To- +day I learned--learned that you, Mr. Drummond, were nothing but a +blackmailer, using these gamblers to do your dirty work. Haddon, +they would have thrown you out like a squeezed lemon as soon as the +money you had was gone. They would have taken the bribe that +Drummond offered for the stock--and they would have left you nothing +but jail. I learned all that over the telegraphone. I learned their +methods and, knowing them, even I could not be prevented from +winning to-night" + +Halsey moved as if to speak. "But," he asked eagerly, "the stock +certificates--what of them!" + +"The stock?" she answered with deliberation. "Did you ever hear that +writing in quinoline will appear blue, but will soon fade away, +while other writing in silver nitrate and ammonia, invisible at +first, after a few hours appears black? You wrote on those +certificates in sympathetic ink that fades, I in ink that comes up +soon." + +Mrs. Noble was crying softly to herself. They still had her notes +for thousands. + +Halsey saw her. Instantly he forgot his own case. What was to be +done about her? He telegraphed a mute appeal to Constance, forgetful +of himself now. Constance was fingering the switch of the +telegraphone. + +"Drummond," remarked Constance significantly, as though other +secrets might still be contained in the marvelous little mechanical +detective, "Drummond, don't you think, for the sake of your own +reputation as a detective, it might be as well to keep this thing +quiet?" + +For a moment the detective gripped his wrath and seemed to consider +the damaging record of his conversation with Bella LeMar. + +"Perhaps," he agreed sullenly. + +Constance reached into her chatelaine. From it she drew an ordinary +magnet, and slowly pulled off the armature. + +"If I run this over the wires," she hinted, holding it near the +spools, "the record will be wiped out." She paused impressively. +"Let me have those I O U's of Mrs. Noble's. By the way, you might as +well give me that blank stock, too. There is no use in that, now." + +As she laid the papers in a pile on the table before her she added +the old forged certificates from Halsey's pocket. There it lay, the +incriminating, ruining evidence. + +Deliberately she passed the magnet over the thin steel wire, wiping +out what it had recorded, as if the recording angel were blotting +out from the book of life. + +"Try it, Drummond," she cried, dropping on her knees before the open +fireplace. "You will find the wire a blank." + +There was a hot, sudden blaze as the pile of papers from the table +flared up. + +"There," she exclaimed. "These gambling debts were not even debts of +honor. If you will call a cab, Haddon, I have reserved a table at +Jade's for you and Mrs. Noble. It is a farewell. Drummond will not +occupy his place in the corner to-night. But--after it--you are to +forget--both of you--forever. You understand?" + + + + +CHAPTER V + +THE EAVESDROPPERS + + +"I suppose you have heard something about the troubles of the Motor +Trust? The other directors, you know, are trying to force me out." + +Rodman Brainard, president of the big Motor Corporation, searched +the magnetic depths of the big brown eyes of the woman beside his +desk. Talking to Constance Dunlap was not like talking to other +women he had known, either socially or in business. + +"A friend of yours, and of mine," he added frankly, "has told me +enough about you to convince me that you are more than an amateur at +getting people out of tight places. I asked you to call because I +think you can help me." + +There was a directness about Brainard which Constance liked. + +"It's very kind of you to place such confidence in me--on such short +acquaintance," she returned pointedly, searching his face. + +Brainard laughed. + +"I don't need to tell you, Mrs. Dunlap, that anything I have said so +far is an open secret in Wall Street. They have threatened to drag +in the Sherman law, and in the reorganization that will follow the +investigation, they plan to eliminate Rodman Brainard--perhaps set +in motion the criminal clauses of the law. It's nothing, Mrs. +Dunlap, but a downright hypocritical pose. They reverse the usual +process. It is doing good that evil may result." + +He watched her face intently. Something in her expression seemed to +please him. "By George," he thought to himself, "this is a man's +woman. You can talk to her." + +Brainard, accustomed to quick decisions, added aloud, "Just now they +are using Mrs. Brainard as a catspaw. They are spreading that +scandal about my acquaintance with Blanche Leblanc, the actress. You +have seen her? A stunning woman--wonderful. But I long ago saw that +such a friendship could lead to nothing but ruin." He met +Constance's eye squarely. There was nothing of the adventuress in it +as there had been in Blanche Leblanc. "And," he finished, almost +biting off the words, "I decided to cut it out." + +"How does Blanche Leblanc figure in the Motor Trust trouble?" asked +Constance keenly. + +"They had been shadowing me a long time before I knew it, ferreting +back into my past. Yesterday I learned that some one had broken into +Miss Leblanc's apartments and had stolen a package of letters which +I wrote to her. It can't hurt her. People expect that sort of thing +of an actress. But it can hurt the president of the Motor Trust-- +just at present." + +"Who has been doing the shadowing?" + +"Worthington, the treasurer, is the guiding spirit of the +'insurgents' as they call themselves--it sounds popular, like +reform. I understand they have had a detective named Drummond +working for them." + +Constance raised her eyes quickly at the name. "Was Drummond always +to cross her trail? + +"This story of the letters," he went on, "puts on the finishing +touch. They have me all right on that. I can tell by the way that +Sybil--er, Mrs. Brainard--acts, that she has read and reread those +letters. But, by God," he concluded, bringing down his fist on the +desk, "I shall fight to the end, and when I go down,"--he emphasized +each word with an additional blow,--"the crash will bring down the +whole damned structure on their own heads, too." + +He was too earnest even to apologize to her. Constance studied the +grim determination in the man's face. He was not one of those +destined to fail. + +"All is not lost that is in peril, Mr. Brainard," she remarked +quietly. "That's one of the maxims of your own Wall Street." + +"What would you do?" he asked. It was not an appeal; rather it was +an invitation. + +"I can't say, yet. Let me come into the office of the Trust. Can't I +be your private secretary?" + +"Consider yourself engaged. Name your figure--after it is over. My +record on the Streets speaks for how I stand by those who stand by +me. But I hate a quitter." + +"So do I," exclaimed Constance, rising and giving him her hand in a +straight-arm shake that made Brainard straighten himself and look +down into her face with unconcealed admiration. + +The next morning Constance became private secretary to the president +of the Motor Trust. + +"You will be 'Miss' Dunlap," remarked Brainard. "It sounds more +plausible." + +Quietly he arranged her duties so that she would seem to be very +busy without having anything which really interfered with the +purpose of her presence. + +She had been thinking rapidly. Late in the forenoon she reached a +decision. A little errand uptown kept her longer than she expected, +but by the late afternoon she was back again at her desk, on which +rested a small package which had been delivered by messenger for +her. + +"I beg you won't think as badly of me as it seems on the surface, +Miss Dunlap," remarked Brainard, stopping beside her desk. + +"I don't think badly of you," she answered in a low voice. "You are +not the only man who has been caught with a crowd of crooks who plan +to leave him holding the bag." + +"Oh, it isn't that," he hastened, "I mean this Blanche Leblanc +affair. May I be frank with you?" + +It was not the first time Constance had been made a confidante of +the troubles of the heart, and yet there was something fascinating +about having a man like Brainard consider her worthy of being +trusted with what meant so much to him. + +"I'm not altogether to blame." he went on slowly. "The estrangement +between my wife and myself came long before that little affair. It +began over--well--over what they call a serious difference in +temperament. You know a man--an ambitious man--needs a partner, a +woman who can use the social position that money gives not alone for +pleasure but as a means of advancing the partnership. I never had +that. The more I advanced, the more I found her becoming a +butterfly--and not as attractive as the other butterflies either. +She went one way--I, another. Oh well--what's the use? I wont too +far--the wrong way. I must pay. Only let me save what I can from the +wreck." + +It was not Constance, the woman, to whom he was talking. It was +Constance, the secretary. Yet it was the woman, not the secretary, +who listened. + +Brainard stopped again beside her desk. + +"All that is neither here nor there," he remarked, forcing a change +in his manner. "I am in for it. Now, the question is--what are we +going to do about it!" + +Constance had unwrapped the package on her desk, disclosing an +oblong box. + +"What's that?" he asked curiously. + +"Mr. Brainard," she answered tapping the box, "there's no limit to +the use of this little machine for our purposes. We can get at their +most vital secrets with it. We can discover every plan which they +have against us. We may even learn the hiding place of those letters +Why, there is no limit. This is one of those new microphone +detectives." + +"A microphone?" he repeated as he opened the box, looked sharply at +the two black little storage batteries inside, the coil of silk- +covered wire, a little black rubber receiver and a curious black +disc whose face was pierced by a circular row of holes. + +"Yes. You must have heard of them. You hide that transmitter behind +a picture or under a table or desk. Then you run the wire out of the +room and by listening in the receiver you can hear everything!" + +"But that is what detectives use--" + +"Well?" she interrupted coolly, "what of it? If it is good for them, +is it not just as good for us?" + +"Better!" he exclaimed. "By George, you ARE the goods." + +It was late before Constance had a chance to do anything with the +microphone. It seemed as if Worthington were staying, perversely, +later than usual. At last, however, he left with a curt nod to her. + +The moment the door was closed she stopped the desultory clicking of +her typewriter with Which she had been toying in the appearance of +being busy. With Brainard she entered the board room where she had +noticed Worthington and Sheppard often during the day. + +It was, without exaggeration, one of the most plainly furnished +rooms she had ever seen. A long mahogany table with eight large +mahogany chairs, a half inch pile of velvety rug on the floor and a +huge chandelier in the middle of the ceiling constituted the +furniture. Not a picture, not a cabinet or filing case broke the +blankness of the brown painted walls. + +For a moment she stopped to consider. Brainard waited and watched +her narrowly. + +"There isn't a place to put this transmitter except up above that +chandelier," she said at length. + +He gave her his hand as she stepped on a chair and then on the +table. There was a glimpse of a trim ankle. The warmth and softness +of her touch caused him to hold her hand just a moment longer than +was absolutely necessary. A moment later he was standing on the +table beside her. + +"This is the place, all right," she said, looking at the thick scum +of dust on the top of the reflector. + +Quickly she placed the little black disc close to the center on the +top of the reflector. "Can you see that from the floor?" she asked. + +"No," he answered, walking about the room, "not a sign of it." + +"I'll sit here," she said in just a tremor of excitement over the +adventure, "and listen while you talk in the board room." + +Brainard entered. It seemed ridiculous for him to talk to himself. + +"If the microphone works," he said at length, "rap on the desk +twice." Then he added, half laughing to himself, "If it doesn't, rap +once--Constance." + +A single rap came in answer. + +"If you couldn't hear," he smiled entering her office, "why did you +rap once!" + +"It didn't work smoothly on that last word." + +"What--Constance?" + +He thought there was a subtle change in their relations since the +microphone incident. At any rate she was not angry. Were they not +partners? + +"I think it will be better if I turn that microphone around," she +remarked. "I placed it face downwards. Let me change it." + +Again he helped her as she jumped up on the board room table. This +time his hand lingered a little longer in hers and she did not +withdraw it so soon. When she did there was a quick twinkle in her +eyes as she straightened the microphone and offered her hand to him +again. + +"Jump!" he said, as if daring her. + +A moment she paused. "I never could take a dare," she answered. + +She leaped lightly to the floor. For just a moment she seemed about +to lose her balance. Then she felt an arm steadying her. He had +caught her and for an instant their eyes met. + +"Well, Rodman--I scarcely thought it was as brazen as this!" + +They turned in surprise. + +Mrs. Brainard was standing in the doorway. + +She was a petite blonde little woman of the deceptive age which the +beauty parlors convey to thousands of their assiduous patrons. + +For a moment she looked coldly from one to the other. + +"To what am I indebted for the pleasure of this unexpected visit, +Sybil?" asked Brainard with sarcastic emphasis. "I shall finish +those letters to-morrow, Miss Dunlap. You need not wait for them." + +He held the door to his own office open for Mrs. Brainard. + +Sybil Brainard shot a quick glance at Constance. "Well, young lady," +she said haughtily, "do you realize what you are doing and with whom +you are?" + +"It isn't necessary, Sybil, to bother about Miss Dunlap. The lights +were out of order and I found Miss Dunlap standing on the table +trying to fix them. You came just in time to see her jump down. By +the way, Worthington seems to be another who works late. He left +only a few minutes ago." + +Constance passed a restless night. To have got wrong at the very +start worried her. Over and over she thought of what had happened. +And always she came back to one question. What had Brainard meant by +that reference to Worthington? + +He came in late the next day, however. Still, there was no change in +his manner as he greeted her. The incident had not affected him, as +it had her. Neither of them said anything about it. + +A young man had been waiting to see Brainard and as he entered he +asked him in. + +Just then Sheppard walked casually through the reception room and +into the board room. + +Constance quickly closed her door. She heard the young man leave +Brainard's office but she was too engrossed to pay attention to +anything but the voices that were coming through the microphone. She +was writing feverishly what she heard. + +"Yes, Sheppard, I saw her again last night." + +"Where?" + +"She was to meet me here, but he stayed later than usual with that +new secretary of his. So I cut out and met her at the street +entrance." + +"And?" + +"I told her of the new secretary. She did just what I wanted--came +up here--and, say Sheppard--what do you think? They were in this +room and he had his arms about her!" + +"The letters are all right, are they? How much did you have to pay +the Leblanc girl?" + +"Twenty thousand. That's all charged up against the pool. Say, +Leblanc is--well--give you my word, Sheppard--I can hardly blame +Brainard after all." + +"You ARE the last word in woman haters, Lee." + +Both men laughed. + +"And the letters?" + +"Don't worry. They are where they'll do the most good. Sybil has +them herself. Now, what have you to report? You saw the district +attorney?" + +"Yes. He is ready to promise us all immunity if we will go on the +stand for the state. The criminal business will come later. Only, +you have to play him carefully. He's on the level. A breath of what +we really want and it will be all off." + +"Then we'll have to hold the stock up, as though nothing was going +to happen." + +They had left the board room. + +Constance hurried into Brainard's office. He was sunk deep in his +chair reading some papers. + +"What's the matter?" she asked. + +"She has entered a suit for divorce. That young man was a process +server." + +"Yes." + +"You are named as co-respondent along with Blanche Leblanc." + +"I?" + +"Yes. It must have been an afterthought. Everything is going-- +fortune, reputation--even your friendship, now, Constance--" + +"Going? Not yet." + +She read hastily what she had overheard. + +"Devil take Worthington," ground out Brainard, gripping the arms of +his chair. "For weeks I have suspected him. They have been too +clever for me. Constance, while I have been going around laying +myself open to discovery, Sybil has played a cool and careful game." + +He was pacing the floor. + +"So--that's the plan. Hold back, keep the stock up until they get +started. Then let it go down until I'm forced to sell out at a loss, +buy it back cheap, and control the reorganization. Well, I haven't +control now, alone. I wish I did have. But neither have they. The +public owns the stock now. I need it. Who'll get it first--that's +the question!" + +He was thinking rapidly. + +"If you could do a little bear manipulation yourself," she +suggested. "That might get the public scared. You could get enough +to control, perhaps, then. They wouldn't dare sell--or if they did +they would weaken their own control. Either way, you get them, going +or coming." + +"Exactly what I was thinking. Play their own game--ahead of them-- +accelerate it." + +It was just after the lunch hour that Constance resumed her place at +her desk with the receiver at her ear. + +There were voices again in the board room. + +"My God, Sheppard, what do you think? Someone is selling Motors-- +five points off and still going down." + +"Who is it? What shall we do?" + +"Who! Brainard, of course. Some one has peached. What are you going +to do?" + +"Wait. Let's call up the News Agency. Hello--yes--what? Unofficial +rumor of prosecution of Motors by the government--large selling +orders placed in advance. The deuce--say, we'll have to meet this +or--" + +"Meet nothing. It's Brainard. He's going down in a big crash. We +pour our money into his pockets now and let him sell at the top and +grab back control with OUR money? Not much. I sell, too." + +Already boys were on the street with extras crying the great crash +in Motors. It was only a matter of minutes before all the news +reading public were thoroughly scared at the apparently bursting +bubble. Shares were dug up in small lots, in huge blocks and slammed +on the market for what they would bring. All day the pounding went +on. Thousands of shares were poured out until Motors which had been +climbing toward par in the neighborhood of 79 had declined forty +points. Brainard had jumped in first and had realized the top price +for his holdings. + +Yet during all the wild scenes when the telephone was ringing +insistently for him, Brainard, having set the machinery in motion +and having been ostentatiously in the office when it started in +order to avert suspicion, could not now be found. + +The market had closed and Constance was reading the account of the +collapse as it was interpreted in the Wall Street editions of the +papers, when the door opened and Brainard entered. + +"This has been a good day's work, Constance," he said, flinging +himself into a chair. + +"Yes, I was just reading of it in the papers. The little microphone +has put an entirely new twist on affairs. And the best of it is that +the financial writers all seem to think it was planned by +Worthington and the rest." + +"Oh, hang Worthington--hang Motors. THAT is what I meant." + +He slapped down a packet of letters on the desk. + +"You--you found them?" gasped Constance. She looked at him keenly. +It was evident that a great weight had been taken off his mind. + +"Yes indeed. I knew there was only one place where she would put +them--in her safe with her jewels. She would think I would never +suspect that she had them and, besides, she had the combination +changed. I went up to the house this afternoon when she was out. I +had an expert with me. He worked two hours, steady,--but he opened +it. Here they are. Now for the real game." + +"What do you mean?" + +"I mean that I noticed the name of the manufacturer on your +microphone. I have had one installed in the room which she uses most +of all. The wires run to the next house where I've hired an +apartment. I intend to 'listen in' there. I'll get this Worthington +--yet!" + +That night Constance and Brainard sat for hours in the empty +apartment patiently waiting for word over the microphone. + +At last there was a noise as of a door opening. + +"Show them in here." + +"Sybil," whispered Brainard as if perhaps she might even hear. + +Then came more voices. + +"Worthington and Drummond," he added. "They suspect nothing yet." + +"Drummond knows this Dunlap woman," said Worthington. + +The detective launched forth in a tirade against Constance. + +"But she is clever, Drummond. You admit that." + +"Clever as they make 'em." + +"You will have her shadowed?" + +"Every moment, Mrs. Brainard." "What's all this about the panic in +Motors, Lee?" + +"Some other time, Sybil, not now. Drummond, what do people say?" + +Drummond hesitated. + +"Out with it, man." + +"Well, Mr. Worthington, it is said you started it." + +"The deuce I did. But I guess Sheppard and I helped it along. We'll +go the limit, too. After all, it had to come. We'll load up after it +reaches the bottom." + +The voices trailed off. + +"Good night, Mrs. Brainard." + +"Good night, Mr. Drummond. That was what I wanted to know." A pause. + +"Lee, how can I ever thank you?" + +A sound suspiciously like a kiss came over the wire. Brainard +clenched his fist. + +"Good night, Sybil. I must go now--" Again the voices trailed off. + +It was several minutes before Brainard spoke. Then it was that he +showed his wonderful power of concentration. + +"I have a conference in half an hour, Constance," he remarked, +looking at his watch. "It is very important. It means getting money +to support Motors on the opening to-morrow after I have gathered in +again what I need. I think I can come pretty near doubling my +holdings if I play it right. That's important. But so is this." + +"I will listen," put in Constance. "Trust me. If anything else +occurs I will tell you." + +She was at the office early the next day, but not before Brainard +who, bright and fresh, even though he had been up all night, was +primed for the battle of his life at the opening of the market. + +Brainard had swung in at the turn and had quietly accumulated the +stock control which he needed. He was now bulling the market by +matching orders, pyramiding stock which he owned, using every device +that was known to his astute brain. + +On up went Motors, recovering the forty points, gradually, and even +going beyond in the reaction. Worthington and Sheppard had been +squeezed out. Not for a moment did he let up. + +As the clock on Trinity church struck three, the closing hour, +Brainard wheeled suddenly in his chair. + +"Miss Dunlap," he said quietly. "I wish that you would tell +Worthington and Sheppard that I should like to see them in the board +room at four." + +Constance looked at her watch. There was time also to execute a +little scheme of her own. + +Four o'clock came. Brainard lounged casually across to the board +room. Instantly Constance had the receiver of the microphone at her +ear, straining to catch every word, and to make notes of the stormy +scene, if necessary. + +Her door opened. It was Sybil Brainard. + +The two women looked at each other coldly. + +Constance was the first to speak. + +"Mrs. Brainard," she began, "I asked you to come down here--not Mr. +Worthington. More than that, I asked the office boy to direct you +here instead of to his office. Do you see that machine?" + +Sybil looked at it without a sign of recognition. + +"It is a microphone detective. It was the installing of that machine +in the board room which you interrupted the other night." + +"Was it necessary that Mr. Brainard should put his arm around you +for that?" inquired Mrs. Brainard with biting sarcasm. + +"I had just jumped down from the table and had almost lost my +balance--that was all," pursued Constance imperturbably. + +"Another of these microphone eavesdroppers told me of a conversation +last night in your own apartment, Mrs. Brainard." + +Her face blanched. "You--have one--there?" + +"Yes. Mr. Brainard heard the first conversation, when Drummond and +Mr. Worthington were there. After they left he had to attend a +conference himself. I alone heard what passed when Mr. Worthington +returned." + +"You are at liberty to--" + +"Mrs. Brainard. You do not understand. I have no reason to want to +make you--" + +An office boy tapped on the door and entered. "Mr. Brainard wants +you, Miss Dunlap." + +"I cannot explain now," resumed Constance. "Won't you sit here at my +desk and listen over the microphone to what happens!" + +She was gone before Mrs. Brainard could reply. What did it all mean? +Sybil put the black disc receiver to her ear as she had seen +Constance do. Her hand trembled. "Why did she tell me that?" she +murmured. + +"You can't prove it," shouted a voice through the black disc at her +ear. She was startled. It was the voice of Worthington. + +"Miss Dunlap--have you that notebook?" came the deep tones of her +husband. + +Constance read from her first notes that part relating to the +conspiracy to control Motors, carefully omitting the part about the +Leblanc letters. + +"It's a lie--a lie." + +"No, it is not a lie. It is all good legal evidence, the record +taken over the new microphone detective. Look up there over the +chandelier, Worthington. The other end is In the top drawer of Miss +Dunlap's desk." + +"I'll fight that to a finish, Brainard. You are clever but there are +other things besides Motors that you have to answer for." + +"No. Those letters--that is what you mean--are in my possession now. +You didn't know that? All the eavesdropping, if you choose to call +it that, was not done here, either, by a long shot, Worthington. I +had one of these machines in my wife's reception room. I have all +sorts of little scraps of conversation," he boasted. "I also have an +account of a visit there from two--er--scoundrels--" + +"Mrs. Brainard to see you, sir," announced a boy at the door. + +Constance had risen. Her face was flushed and her breast rose and +fell with excitement. + +"Mr. Brainard," she interrupted. "I must explain--confess. Mrs. +Brainard has been sitting in my office listening to us over the +microphone. I arranged it. I asked her to come down, using another +name as a pretext. But I didn't think she would interrupt so soon. +Before you see her--let me read this. It was a conversation I got +after you had left last night and so far I have had no chance to +tell you of it. Some one," she laid particular stress on the word, +"came back after that first interview. Listen." + +"No, Lee," Constance read rapidly from her notes, "no. Don't think I +am ungrateful. You have been one friend in a thousand through all +this. I shall have my decree-soon, now. Don't spoil it-" + +"But Sybil, think of Mm. What did he ever care for you! He has made +you free already." + +"He is still my husband." + +"Take this latest escapade with this Miss Dunlap." + +"Well, what do I really know about that?" + +"You saw him." + +"Yes, but maybe it was as he said." + +The door was flung open, interrupting Constance's reading, and Sybil +Brainard entered. The artificiality of the beauty parlor was all +gone. She was a woman, who had been wronged and deceived. + +"Next friend--a true next friend--fiend would be better, Lee +Worthington," she scorned. "How can you stand there and look me in +the face, how could you tell me of your love for me, when all the +time you cared no more for me or for any other woman than for that-- +that Leblanc! You knew that I, who was as jealous as I could be of +Rodman, had heard a little--you added more. Yet when you had played +on my feelings, you would have cast me off, too--I know it; I know +your kind." + +She paused for breath, then turned slowly to Brainard with a note of +pathos in her voice. + +"Our temperaments may have been different, Rodman. They were not +when we were poor. Perhaps I have not developed with you, the way +you want of me. But, Rodman, did you ever stop to think that +perhaps, perhaps if I had ever had the chance to be taken into your +confidence more often--" + +"Will you--forgive me?" Brainard managed to blurt out. + +"Will you forgive me?" she returned frankly. + +"I--forgive? I have nothing to forgive." + +"I could have understood, Rodman, if it had been Miss Dunlap. She is +clever, wonderful. But that Leblanc--never!" + +Sybil Brainard turned to Constance. + +"Miss Dunlap--Mrs. Dunlap," she sobbed, "forgive me. You--you are a +better woman than I am." + + + + +CHAPTER VI + +THE CLAIRVOYANTS + + +"Do you believe in dreams?" Constance Dunlap looked searchingly at +her interrogator, as if her face or manner betrayed some new side of +her character. + +Mrs. deForest Caswell was an attractive woman verging on forty, a +chance acquaintance at a shoppers' tea room downtown who had proved +to be an uptown neighbor. + +"I have had some rather strange experiences, Mildred," confessed +Constance tentatively. "Why!" + +"Because--" the other woman hesitated, then added, "why should I not +tell you! Last night, Constance, I had the strangest dream. It has +left such an impression on me that I can't shake it off, although I +have tried all day." + +"Yes? Tell me about it." + +Mildred Caswell paused a moment, then began slowly, as if not to +omit anything from her story. + +"I dreamt that Forest was dying. I could see him, could see the +doctor and the nurse, everything. And yet somehow I could not get to +him. I was afraid, with such an oppressive fear. I tried--oh, how I +tried! I struggled, and how badly I felt!" and she shuddered at the +very recollection. + +"There seemed to be a wall," she resumed, "a narrow wall in the way +and I couldn't get over it. As often as I tried, I fell. And then I +seemed to be pursued by some kind of animal, half bull, half snake. +I ran. It followed closely. I seemed to see a crowd of people and I +felt that if I could only get to that crowd, somehow I would be +safe, perhaps might even get over the wall and--I woke up--almost +screaming." + +The woman's face was quite blanched. + +"My dear," remonstrated Constance, "you must not take it so. +Remember--it was only a dream. + +"I know it was only a dream," she said, "but you don't know what is +back of it." + +Mildred Caswell had from time to time hinted to Constance of the +growing incompatibility of her married life, but as Constance was +getting used to confidences, she had kept silent, knowing that her +friend would tell her in time. + +"You must have guessed," faltered Mrs. Caswell, "that Forest and I +are not--not on the best of terms, that we are getting further and +further apart." + +It rather startled Constance to hear frankly stated what she already +had observed. She wondered how far the estrangement had gone. The +fact was that she had rather liked deForest Caswell, although she +had only met her friend's husband a few times. In fact she was +surprised that momentarily there flashed through her mind the query +as to whether Mildred herself might be altogether blameless in the +growing uncongeniality. + +Mildred Caswell had drawn out of her chatelaine a bit of newspaper +and handed it to Constance, not as if it was of any importance to +herself but as if it would explain better than she could tell what +she meant. + +Constance read: + + MME. CASSANDRA, + THE VEILED PROPHETESS + +Born with a double veil, educated in occult mysteries in Egypt and +India. Without asking a question, tells your name and reads your +secret troubles and the remedy. Reads your dreams. Great questions +of life quickly solved. Failure turned to success, the separated +brought together, advice on all affairs of life, love, marriage, +divorce, business, speculation, and investments. Overcomes all evil +influences. Ever ready to help and advise those with capital to find +a safe and paying investment. No fee until it succeeds. Could +anything be fairer? + + THE RETREAT, + ---W. 47th Street. + +"Won't you come with me to Madame Cassandra?" asked Mrs. Caswell, as +Constance finished reading. "She always seems to do me so much +good." + +"Who is Madame Cassandra?" asked Constance, rereading the last part +of the advertisement. + +"I suppose you would call her a dream doctor," said Mildred. + +It was a new idea to Constance, this of a dream doctor to settle the +affairs of life. Only a moment she hesitated, then she answered +simply, "Yes, I'll go." + +"The retreat" was just off Longacre Square among quite a nest of +fakers. A queue of automobiles before the place testified, however, +to the prosperity of Madame Cassandra, as they entered the bronze +grilled plate glass door and turned on the first floor toward the +home of the Adept. Constance had an uncomfortable feeling as they +entered of being watched behind the shades of the apartment. Still, +they had no trouble in being admitted, and a soft-voiced colored +attendant welcomed them. + +The esoteric flat of Madame Cassandra was darkened except for the +electric lights glowing in amber and rose-colored shades. There were +several women there already. As they entered Constance had noticed a +peculiar, dreamy odor. There did not seem to be any hurry, any such +thing as time here, so skilfully was the place run. There was no +noise; the feet sank in half-inch piles of rugs, and easy-chairs and +divans were scattered about. + +Once a puff of light smoke appeared, and Constance awoke to the fact +that some were smoking little delicately gold-banded cigarettes. +Indeed it was all quite recherche. + +Mrs. Caswell took one from a maid. So did Constance, but after a +puff or two managed to put it out and later to secure another which +she kept. + +Madame Cassandra herself proved to be a tall, slender, pale woman +with dark hair and a magnetic eye, an eye that probably accounted +more than anything else for her success. She was clad in a house +gown of purplish silk which clung tightly to her, and at her throat +a diamond pendant sparkled, as well as other brilliants on her long, +slender fingers. + +She met Mildred and Constance with outstretched hands. + +"So glad to see you, my dears," purred Madame, leading the way into +an inner sanctum. + +Mrs. Caswell had seated herself with the air of one who worshiped at +the shrine, while Constance gazed about curiously. + +"Madame," she began a little tremulously, "I have had another of +those dreadful dreams." + +"You poor dear soul," soothed Madame, stroking her hand. "Tell me of +it--all." + +Quickly Mrs. Caswell poured forth her story as she had already told +it to Constance. + +"My dear Mrs. Caswell," remarked the high priestess slowly, when the +story was complete, "it is all very simple. His love is dead. That +is what you fear and it is the truth. The wall is the wall that he +has erected against you. Try to forget it--to forget him. You would +be better off. There are other things in the world--" + +"Ah, but I cannot live as I am used to without money," murmured Mrs. +Caswell. + +"I know," replied Madame. "It is that that keeps many a woman with a +brute. When financial and economic independence come, then woman +will be free and only then. Now, listen. Would you like to be free-- +financially? You remember that delightful Mr. Davies who has been +here? Yes? Well, he is a regular client of mine, now. He is a broker +and never embarks in any enterprise without first consulting me. +Just the other day I read his fortune in United Traction. It has +gone up five points already and will go fifteen more. If you want, I +will give you a card to him. Let me see--yes, I can do that. You too +will be lucky in speculation." + +Constance, with one ear open, had been busy looking about the room. +In a bookcase she saw a number of books and paused to examine their +titles. She was surprised to see among the old style dream books +several works on modern psychology, particularly on the +interpretation of dreams. + +"Of course, Mrs. Caswell, I don't want to urge you," Madame was +saying. "I have only pointed out a way in which you can be +independent. And, you know, Mr. Davies is a perfect gentleman, so +courteous and reliable. I know you will be successful if you take my +advice and go to him." + +Mildred said nothing for a few moments, but as she rose to go she +remarked, "Thank you very much. I'll think about it. Anyhow, you've +made me feel better." + +"So kind of you to say it," murmured the Adept. "I'm sorry you must +go, but really I have other appointments. Please come again--with +your friend. Good-bye." + +"What do you think of her?" asked Mrs. Caswell on the street. + +"Very clever," answered Constance dubiously. + +Mrs. Caswell looked up quickly. "You don't like her?" + +"To tell the truth," confessed Constance quietly, "I have had too +much experience in Wall Street myself to trust to a clairvoyant." + +They had scarcely reached the corner before Constance again had that +peculiar feeling which some psychologists have noted, of being +stared at. She turned, but saw no one. Still the feeling persisted. +She could stand it no longer. + +"Don't think me crazy, Mildred," she said, "but I just have a desire +to walk back a block." + +Constance had turned suddenly. As she glanced keenly about she was +aware of a familiar figure gazing into the window of an art store +across the street. He had stopped so that although his back was +turned he could, by a slight shift of his position, still see by +means of a mirror in the window what was going on across the street +behind him. + +One look was enough. It was Drummond, the detective. What did it +mean? + +Neither woman said much as they rode uptown, and parted on the +respective floors of their apartment house. Still Constance could +not get out of her head the recollection of the dream doctor and of +Drummond. + +Restless, she determined that night to go down to the Public Library +and see whether any of the books at the clairvoyant's were on the +shelves. Fortunately she found some, found indeed that they were not +all, as she had half suspected, the works of fakers but that quite a +literature had been built up around the new psychology of dreams. + +Deeply she delved into the fascinating subjects that had been opened +by the studies of the famous Dr. Sigmund Freud of Vienna, and as she +read she found that she began to understand much about Mrs. Caswell +--and, with a start, about her own self. + +At first she revolted against the unpleasant feature of the new +dream philosophy--the irresistible conclusion that all humanity, +underneath the shell, is sensuous or sensual in nature, that +practically all dreams portray some delight of the senses and that +sexual dreams are a large proportion of all visions. But the more +she thought of it, the more clearly was she able to analyze Mrs. +Caswell's dream and to get back at the causes of it, in the +estrangement from her husband and perhaps the brutality of his +ignorance of woman. And then, too, there was Drummond. What was he +doing in the case? + +She did not see Mildred Caswell again until the following afternoon. +But then she seemed unusually bright in contrast with the depression +of the day before. Constance was not surprised. Her intuition told +her that something had happened and she hardly needed to guess that +Mrs. Caswell had followed the advice of the clairvoyant and had been +to see the wonderful Mr. Davies, to whom the mysteries of the stock +market were an open book. + +"Have you had any other dreams?" asked Constance casually. + +"Yes," replied Mildred, "but not like the one that depressed me. +Last night I had a very pleasant dream. It seemed that I was +breakfasting with Mr. Davies. I remember that there was a hot coal +fire in the grate. Then suddenly a messenger came in with news that +United Traction had advanced twenty points. Wasn't it strange?" + +Constance said nothing. In fact it did not seem strange to her at +all. The strange thing to her, now that she was a sort of amateur +dream reader herself, was that Mrs. Caswell did not seem to see the +real import of her own dream. + +"You have seen Mr. Davies to-day?" Constance ventured. + +Mrs. Caswell laughed. "I wasn't going to tell you. You seemed so set +against speculating in Wall Street. But since you ask me, I may as +well admit it." + +"When did you see him before?" went on Constance. "Did you have much +invested with him already?" + +Mrs. Caswell glanced up, startled. "My--you are positively uncanny, +Constance. How did you know I had seen him before?" + +"One seldom dreams," said Constance, "about anything unless it has +been suggested by an event of the day before. You saw him today. +That would not have inspired the dream of last night. Therefore I +concluded that you must have seen him and invested before. Madame +Cassandra's mention of him yesterday caused the dream of last night. +The dream of last night probably influenced you to see him again to- +day, and you invested in United Traction. That is the way dreams +work. Probably more of conduct than we know is influenced by dream +life. Now, if you should get fifteen or twenty points you would be +in a fair way to join the ranks of those who believe that dreams do +come true." + +Mrs. Caswell looked at her almost alarmed, then attempted to turn it +off with a laugh, "And perhaps breakfast with him?" + +"When I do set up as interpreter of dreams," answered Constance +simply, "I'll tell you more." + +On one point she had made up her mind. That was to visit Mr. Davies +herself the next day. + +She found his office a typical bucket shop, even down to having a +section partitioned off for women clients of the firm. She had not +intended to risk anything, and so was prepared when Mr. Davies +himself approached her courteously. Instinctively Constance +distrusted him. He was too cordial, too polite. She could feel the +claws hidden in his velvety paw, as it were. There was a debonnaire +assurance about him, the air of a man who thought he understood +women, and indeed did understand a certain type. But to Constance, +who was essentially a man's woman, Davies was only revolting. + +She managed to talk without committing herself, and he in his +complacency was glad to hope that he was making a new customer. She +had to be careful not to betray any of the real and extensive +knowledge about Wall Street which she actually possessed. But the +glib misrepresentations about United Traction quite amazed her. + +When she rose to go, Davies accompanied her to the door, then out +into the hall to the elevator. As he bent over to shake hands, she +noted that he held her hand just a little longer than was necessary. + +"He's a swindler of the first water," she concluded as she was +whisked down in the elevator. "I'm sure Mildred is in badly with +this crowd, one urging her on in her trouble, the other making it +worse and fleecing her into the bargain." + +At the entrance she paused, undecided which was the quickest route +home. As by chance she turned just for a moment she thought she +caught a fleeting glimpse of Drummond dodging behind a pillar. It +was only for an instant but even that apparition was enough. + +"I WILL get her out of this safely," resolved Constance. "I WILL +keep one more fly from his web." + +Constance felt as if, even now, she must see Mildred and, although +she knew nothing, at least put her on her guard. She did not have +long to wait for her chance. It was late in the afternoon when her +door buzzer sounded. + +"Constance, I've been looking for you all day," sighed Mildred, +dropping sobbing into a chair. "I am--distracted." + +"Why, my dear, what's the matter?" asked Constance. "Let me make you +a cup of coffee." + +Over the steaming little cups Mildred grew more calm. + +"Forest has found out in some way that I am speculating in Wall +Street," she confided at length. "I suppose some of his friends--he +has lots down there--told him." + +Momentarily the picture of Drummond back of the post in Davies' +building flashed over Constance. + +"And he is awfully angry. Oh, I never knew him to be so angry--and +sarcastic, too." + +"Was it wholly over your money?" asked Constance. "Was there nothing +else?" + +Mrs. Caswell started. "You grow more weird, every day, Constance. +Yes--there was something else." + +"Mr. Davies?" + +Mildred had risen. "Don't--don't--" she cried. + +"Then you do really--care for him!" asked Constance mercilessly. + +"No--no, a thousand times--no. How can I? I have put all such +thoughts out of my mind--long ago." She paused, then went on more +calmly, "Constance, believe me or not--I am just as good a woman to- +day as I was the day I married Forest. No--I would not even let the +thought enter my head--never!" + +For perhaps an hour after her friend had gone, Constance sat +thinking. What should she do? Something must be done and soon. As +she thought, suddenly the truth flashed over her. + +Caswell had employed Drummond to shadow his wife in the hope that he +might unearth something that might lead to a divorce. Drummond, like +so many divorce detectives, was not averse to guiding events, to put +it mildly. He had ingratiated himself, perhaps, with the clairvoyant +and Davies. Constance had often heard before of clairvoyants and +brokers who worked in conjunction to fleece the credulous. Now +another and more serious element than the loss of money was +involved. Added to them was a divorce detective--and honor itself +was at stake. She remembered the doped cigarettes. She had heard of +them before at clairvoyants'. She saw it all--Madame Cassandra +playing on Mildred's wounded affections, the broker on both that and +her desire to be independent--and Drummond pulling the wires that +all might take advantage of her woman's frailty. + +That moment Constance determined on action. + +First she telephoned to deForest Caswell at his office. It was an +unconventional thing to do to ask him to call, but she made some +plausible pretext. She was surprised to find that he accepted it +without hesitating. It set her thinking. Drummond must have told him +something of her and he had thought this as good a time as any to +face her. In that case Drummond would probably come too. She was +prepared. + +She had intended to have one last talk with Mildred, but had no need +to call her. Utterly wretched, the poor little woman came in again +to see her as she had done scores of times before, to pour out her +heart. Forest had not come home to dinner, had not even taken the +trouble to telephone. Constance did not say that she herself was +responsible. + +"Do you really want to know the truth about your dreams?" asked +Constance, after she had prevailed upon Mildred to eat a little. + +"I do know," she returned. + +"No, you don't," went on Constance, now determined to tell her the +truth whether she liked it or not. "That clairvoyant and Mr. Davies +are in league, playing you for a sucker, as they say." + +Mrs. Caswell did not reply for a moment. Then she drew a long breath +and shut her eyes. "Oh, you don't know how true what she says is to +me. She--" + +"Listen," interrupted Constance. "Mildred, I'm going to be frank, +brutally frank. Madame Cassandra has read your character, not the +character as you think it is, but your unconscious, subconscious +self. She knows that there is no better way to enter into the +intimate life of a client, according to the new psychology, than by +getting at and analyzing the dreams. And she knows that you can't go +far in dream analysis without finding sex. It is one of the +strongest natural impulses, yet subject to the strongest repression, +and hence one of the weakest points of our culture. + +"She is actually helping along your alienation for that broker. You +yourself have given me the clue in your dreams. Only I am telling +you the truth about them. She holds it back and tells you plausible +falsehoods to help her own ends. She is trying to arouse in you +those passions which you have suppressed, and she has not scrupled +to use drugged cigarettes with you and others to do it. You remember +the breakfast dream, when I said that much could be traced back to +dreams? A thing happens. It causes a dream. That in turn sometimes +causes action. No, don't interrupt. Let me finish first. + +"Take that first dream," continued Constance, rapidly thrusting home +her interpretation so that it would have its full effect. "You +dreamed that your husband was dying and you were afraid. She said it +meant love was dead. It did not. The fact is that neurotic fear in a +woman has its origin in repressed, unsatisfied love, love which for +one reason or another is turned away from its object and has not +succeeded in being applied. Then his death. That simply means that +you have a feeling that you might be happier if he were away and +didn't devil you. It is a survival of childhood, when death is +synonymous with absence. I know you don't believe it. But if you had +studied the subject as I have in the last few days you'd understand. +Madame Cassandra understands. + +"And the wall. That was Wall Street, probably, which does divide you +two. You tried to get over it and you fell. That means your fear of +actually falling, morally, of being a fallen woman." + +Mildred was staring wildly. She might deny but in her heart she must +admit. + +"The thing that pursued you, half bull, half snake, was Davies and +his blandishments. I have seen him. I know what he is. The crowd in +a dream always denotes a secret. He is pursuing you, as in the +dream. But he hasn't caught you. He thinks there is in you the same +wild demimondaine instinct that with many an ardent woman, slumbers +unknown in the back of her mind. + +"Whatever you may say, you do think of him. When a woman dreams of +breakfasting cozily with some one other than her husband it has an +obvious meaning. As for the messenger and the message about the +United Traction, there, too, was a plain wish, and, as you must see, +wishes in one form or another, disguised or distorted, lie at the +basis of dreams. Take the coal fire. That, too, is susceptible of +interpretation. I think you must have heard the couplet: + +"'No coal, no fire so hotly glows As the secret love that no one +knows.'" + +Mildred Caswell had risen, an indignant flush on her face. + +Constance put her hand on her arm gently to restrain her, knowing +that such indignation was the first sign that she had struck at the +core of truth in her interpretation. + +"My dear," she urged, "I'm only telling you the truth, for your own +sake, and not to take advantage of you as Madame Cassandra is doing. +Please--remember that the best evidence of your normal condition is +just what I find, that absence of love would be abnormal. My dear, +you are what the psychologists call a consciously frigid, +unconsciously passionate woman. Consciously you reject this Davies; +unconsciously you accept him. And it is the more dangerous, although +you do not know it, because some one else is watching. It was not +one of his friends who told your husband--" + +Mrs. Caswell had paled. "Is--is there a--detective?" she faltered. + +Constance nodded. + +Mildred had collapsed completely. She was sobbing in a chair, her +head bowed in her hands, her little lace handkerchief soaked. "What +shall I do? What shall I do?" + +There was a sudden tap at the door. + +"Quick--in there," whispered Constance, shoving her through the +portieres into the drawing room. + +It was Forest Caswell. + +For a moment Constance stood irresolute, wondering just how to meet +him, then she said, "Good evening, Mr. Caswell. I hope you will +pardon me for asking you to call on me, but, as you know, I've come +to know your wife--perhaps better than you do." + +"Not better," he corrected, seeming to see that it was directness +that she was aiming at. "It is bad enough to get mixed up badly in +Wall Street, but what would you yourself say--you are a business +woman--what would you say about getting into the clutches of a--a +dream doctor--and worse?" + +He had put Constance on the defensive in a sentence. + +"Don't you ever dream?" she asked quietly. + +He looked at her a moment as if doubting even her mentality. + +"Lord," he exclaimed in disgust, "you, too, defend it?" + +"But, don't you dream?" she persisted. + +"Why, of course I dream," he answered somewhat petulantly. "What of +it? I don't guide my actions by it." + +"Do you ever dream of Mildred?" she asked. + +"Sometimes," he admitted reluctantly. + +"Ever of other--er--people?" she pursued. + +"Yes," he replied, "sometimes of other people. But what has that to +do with it? I cannot help my dreams. My conduct I can help and I do +help." + +Constance had not expected him to be frank to the extent of taking +her into his confidence. Still, she felt that he had told her just +enough. She discerned a vague sense of jealousy in his tone which +told her more than words that whatever he might have said or done to +Mildred he resented, unconsciously, the manner in which she had +striven to gain sympathy outside. + +"Fortunately he knows nothing of the new theories," she said to +herself. + +"Mrs. Dunlap," he resumed, "since you have been frank with me, I +must be equally frank with you. I think you are far too sensible a +woman not to understand in just what a peculiar position my wife has +placed me." + +He had taken out of his pocket a few sheets of closely typewritten +tissue paper. He did not look at them. Evidently he knew the +contents by heart. Constance did not need to be told that this was a +sheaf of the daily reports of the agency for which Drummond worked. + +He paused. She had been watching him searchingly. She was determined +not to let him justify himself first. + +"Mr. Caswell," she persisted in a low, earnest tone, "don't be so +sure that there is nothing in this dream, business. Before you read +me those reports from Mr. Drummond, let me finish." + +Forest Caswell almost dropped them in surprise. + +"Dreams," she continued, seeing her advantage, "are wishes, either +suppressed or expressed. Sometimes the dream is frank and shows an +expressed wish. Other times it shows a suppressed wish, or a wish +which in its fulfilment in the dream is disguised or distorted. + +"You are the cause of your wife's dreams. She feels in them anxiety. +And, according to the modern psychologists who have studied dreams +carefully and scientifically, fear and anxiety represent love +repressed or suppressed." + +She paused to emphasize the point, glad to note that he was +following her. + +"That clairvoyant," she went on, "has found out the truth. True, it +may not have been the part of wisdom for Mildred to have gone to her +in the first place. I pass over that. I do not know whether you or +she was most to blame at the start. But that woman, in the guise of +being her friend, has played on every string of your wife's lonely +heart, which you have wrung until it vibrates. + +"Then," she hastened on, "came your precious friend Drummond, +Drummond who has, no doubt, told you a pack of lies about me. You +see that!" + +She had flung down on the table a cigarette which she had managed to +get at Madame Cassandra's. + +"Smoke it." + +He lighted it gingerly, took a puff or two, puckered his face, +frowned, and rubbed the lighted end on the fireplace to extinguish +it. + +"What is it?" he asked suspiciously. + +"Hashish," she answered tersely. "Things were not going fast enough +to suit either Madame Cassandra or Drummond. Madame Cassandra helped +along the dreams by a drug noted for its effect on the passions. +More than that," added Constance, leaning over toward him and +catching his eye, "Madame Cassandra was working in league with a +broker, as so many of the fakers do. Drummond knew it, whether he +told you the truth about it or not. That broker was a swindler named +Davies." + +She was watching the effect on him. She saw that he had been +reserving this for a last shot at her, that he realized she had +stolen his own ammunition and appropriated it to herself. + +"They were only too glad when Drummond approached them. There you +are, three against that poor little woman--no, four, including +yourself. Perhaps she was foolish. But it was not so much to her +discredit as to those who cast her adrift when she had a natural +right to protection. Here was a woman with passions which she +herself did not understand, and a little money--alone. Her case +appealed to me. I knew her dreams. I studied them." + +Caswell was listening in amazement. "It is dangerous to be with a +person who pays attention to such little things," he said. + +Evidently Drummond himself must have been listening. The door buzzer +sounded and he stepped in, perhaps to bolster up his client in case +he should be weakening. + +As he met Constance's eye he smiled superciliously and was about to +speak. But she did not give him time even to say good evening. + +"Ask him," she cried, her eyes flashing, for she realized that it +had been part of the plan to confront her, perhaps worm out of her +just enough to confirm Drummond's own story to Caswell, "ask him to +tell the truth--if he is capable of it--not the truth that will make +a good daily report of a hired shadow who colors his report the way +he thinks his client desires it, but the real truth." + +"Mr. Caswell," interrupted Drummond, "this woman----" + +"Mr. Drummond," cried Constance, rising and shaking the burnt stub +of the little gold-banded cigarette at him to impress it on his +mind, "Mr. Drummond, I don't care whether I am a--a she-devil"--she +almost hissed the words at him--"but I have evidence enough to go +before the district attorney of this city and the grand jury and get +indictments for conspiracy against a certain clairvoyant and a +bucket shop operator. To save themselves, they will probably tell +all they know about a certain crook who has been using them." + +Caswell looked at her, amazed at her denunciation of the detective. +As for Drummond, he turned his back on her as if to ignore her +utterly. + +"Mr. Caswell," he said bitterly, "in those reports--" + +"Forest Caswell," insisted Constance, rising and facing him, "if you +have in that heart of yours one shred of manhood it should move you. +You--this man--the others--have placed in the path of a woman every +provocation, every temptation for financial, physical, and moral +ruin. She has consulted a clairvoyant--yes. She has speculated--yes. +Yet she was proof against something greater than that. And I know-- +because I know her unconscious self which her dreams reveal, her +inmost soul--I know her better than you do, better than she does +herself. I know that even now she is as good and true and would be +as loving as--" + +Constance had paused and taken a step toward the drawing room. +Before she knew it, the portieres flew apart and an eager little +woman had rushed past her and flung her arms about the neck of the +man. + +Caswell's features were working, as he gently disengaged her arms, +still keeping one hand. Half shoving her aside, ignoring Constance, +he had faced Drummond. For a moment the brazen detective flinched. + +As he did so, deForest Caswell crumpled up the mass of tissue paper +reports and flung them into the fireplace. + +"Get out!" he said, suppressing his voice with difficulty. "Send me +--your bill. I'll pay it--but, mind, if it is one penny more than it +should be, I'll--I'll fight if it takes me from the district +attorney and the grand jury to the highest court of the State. Now-- +go!" + +Caswell turned slowly again toward his wife. + +"I've been a brute," he said simply. + +Something almost akin to jealousy rose in Constance's heart as she +saw Mildred, safe at last. + +Then Caswell turned slowly to her. "You," he said, stroking his +wife's hand gently but looking at Constance, "you are a REAL +clairvoyant." + + + + +CHAPTER VII + +THE PLUNGERS + + +"They have the most select clientele in the city here." + +Constance Dunlap was sitting in the white steamy room of Charmant's +Beauty Shop. Her informant, reclining dreamily in a luxurious wicker +chair, bathed in the perspiring vapor, had evidently taken a fancy +to her. + +"And no wonder, either; they fix you up so well," she rattled on; +then confidingly, "Now, last night after the show a party of us went +to supper and a dance--and it was in the wee small hours when we +broke up. But Madame here can make you all over again. Floretta," +she called to an attendant who had entered, "if Mr. Warrington calls +up on the 'phone, say I'll call him later." + +"Yes, Miss Larue." + +Constance glanced up quickly as Floretta mentioned the name of the +popular young actress. Stella Larue was a pretty girl on whom the +wild dissipation of the night life of New York was just beginning to +show its effects. The name of Warrington, too, recalled to Constance +instantly some gossip she had heard in Wall Street about the +disagreement in the board of directors of the new Rubber Syndicate +and the effort to oust the president whose escapades were something +more than mere whispers of scandal. + +This was the woman in the case. Constance looked at Stella now with +added interest as she rose languidly, drew her bathrobe about her +superb figure carelessly in such a way as to show it at best +advantage. + +"I've had more or less to do with Wall Street myself," observed +Constance. + +"Oh, have you? Isn't that interesting," cried Stella. + +"I hope you're not putting money in Rubber?" queried Constance. + +"On the contrary," rippled Stella, then added, "You're going to +stay? Let me tell you something. Have Floretta do your hair. She's +the best here. Then come around to see me in the dormitory if I'm +here when you are through, won't you?" + +Constance promised and Stella fluttered away like the pretty +butterfly that she was, leaving Constance to wonder at the natural +gravitation of plungers in the money market toward plungers in the +white lights. + +Charmant's Beauty Parlor was indeed all its name implied, a temple +of the cult of adornment, the last cry in the effort to satisfy what +is more than health, wealth, and happiness to some women--the +fundamental feminine instinct for beauty. + +Constance had visited the beauty specialist to have an incipient +wrinkle smoothed out. Frankly, it was not vanity. But she had come +to realize that her greatest asset was her personal appearance. Once +that had a chance to work, her native wit and keen ability would +carry her to success. + +Madame Charmant herself was a tall, dark-skinned, dark-haired, dark- +eyed, well-groomed woman who looked as if she had been stamped from +a die for a fashion plate--and then the die had been thrown away. +All others like her were spurious copies, counterfeits. More than +that, she affected the name of Vera, which in itself had the ring of +truth. + +And so Charmant had prevailed on Constance to take a full course in +beautification and withhold the wrinkle at the source. + +"Besides, you know, my dear," she purred, "there's nothing +discovered by the greatest minds of the age that we don't apply at +once." + +Constance was not impervious to feminine reason, and here she was. + +"Has Miss Larue gone?" she asked when at last she was seated in a +comfortable chair again sipping a little aromatic cup of coffee. + +"No, she's resting in one of the little dressing rooms." + +She followed Floretta down the corridor. Each little compartment had +its neat, plain white enameled bed, a dresser and a chair. + +Stella smiled as Constance entered. "Yes," she murmured in response +to the greeting, "I feel quite myself now." + +"Mr. Warrington on the wire," announced Floretta a moment later, +coming down the corridor again with a telephone on a long unwinding +wire. + +"Hello, Alfred--oh, rocky this morning," Constance overheard. "I +said to myself, 'Never again--until the nest time. Vera? Oh, she was +as fresh as a lark. Can I lunch with you downtown? Of course.'" Then +as she hung up the receiver she called, "Floretta, get me a taxi." + +"Yes, Miss Larue." + +"I always have a feeling here," whispered Stella, "that I am being +listened to. I mean to speak to Vera about it some time. By the way, +wouldn't you like to join us to-night? Vera will be along and Mr. +Warrington and perhaps 'Diamond Jack' Braden--you know him?" + +Constance confessed frankly that she did not have the pleasure of +the acquaintance of the well-known turfman and first nighter. + +She hesitated. Perhaps it was that that Stella liked. Almost any one +else would have been overeager to accept. But to Constance, sure of +herself now, nothing of the sort was worth scrambling for. Besides, +she was wondering how a man with the fight of his life on his hands +could find time to lunch downtown even with Stella. + +"I've taken quite a fancy to you," pressed Stella. + +"Thank you, it's very kind of you," Constance answered. "I shall try +very hard to be there." + +"I'll leave a box for you at the office. Come around after the +performance to my dressing room." + +"Miss Larue, your taxi's waiting," announced Floretta. + +"Thanks. Are you going now, Mrs. Dunlap? Yes? Then ride down in the +elevator with me." + +They parted at the foot of the elevator and Constance walked through +the arcade of the office building in which the beauty parlor +occupied the top floor. She stopped at a florist's stand to admire +the flowers, but more for an excuse to look back at Stella. + +As Stella stepped into a taxicab, showing a generous wealth of +silken hosiery beneath the tango gown, Constance was aware that the +driver of another cab across the street was also interested. She +noticed that he turned and spoke to his fare through the open +window. + +The cab swung around to follow the other and Constance caught a +fleeting glimpse of a familiar face. + +"Drummond," she exclaimed almost aloud. + +What did it mean? Why had the detective been employed to follow +Stella? Instinctively she concluded that he must be engaged by Mrs. +Warrington. + +"I must accept Stella's invitation," she said to herself excitedly. +"At least, she should be put on her guard." + +That evening, as she was looking over the newspapers, her eye caught +the item in the Wall Street edition: + +RUBBER SYNDICATE DISSENSION + +Break in Stock Follows Effort of Strong Minority to Oust Warrington +from Presidency + +Then followed a brief account of the struggle of a powerful group of +directors to force Warrington, Braden, and the rest out, with a hint +at the scandal of which every one now was talking. + +"I never yet knew a man who went in for that sort of thing that +lasted long in business," she observed. "This is my chance--a crowd +riding for a fall." + +Constance chose a modest orchestra seat in preference to the place +in a box which Stella had reserved for her at the office, and, aside +from the purpose which was rapidly taking shape in her mind, she +enjoyed the play very much. Stella Larue, as the "Grass Widow," +played her part with a piquancy which Constance knew was not wholly +a matter of book knowledge. + +As the curtain went down, the audience, its appetite for the risque +whetted, filed out on Broadway with its myriad lights and continuous +film of motion. Constance made her way around to Stella's dressing +room. + +She had scarcely been welcomed by Stella, whose cheeks beneath the +grease paint were now genuinely ablaze with excitement, when a man +entered. He was tall, spare, the type whose very bow is ingratiating +and whose "delighted, I assure you" is suave and compelling. + +Alfred Warrington seemed to be on very good terms indeed with Stella +as she introduced him to Constance. + +"You will join us, Mrs. Dunlap?" he asked, throwing an opera cloak +over Stella's shoulders. "Vera Charmant and Jack Braden are waiting +for us at the Little Montmartre." + +As he mentioned the famous cabaret, Constance took a little tighter +grip on herself and decided to take the plunge and see the affair +out, although that sort of thing had very little attraction for her. + +They were leaving the theater when she saw lurking in the crowd the +familiar figure of Drummond. She turned her head quickly and sank +back into the dark recesses of the limousine. + +Should she tell them now about him? + +She leaned over to Warrington. "I saw a man in the crowd just now +who seemed to be quite interested in us," she said quickly. "Can't +we drive around a bit to throw him off if he should get into a cab?" + +Warrington looked at her keenly. It was quite evident that he +thought it was Constance who was being followed, not Stella or +himself. Constance decided quickly to say nothing more that would +prejudice Stella, but as Warrington directed his driver to run up +through the park she saw that, far from alarming him, the words had +only added a zest of mystery about herself. + +They left the Park and the car jolted them quickly now over the +uneven asphalt to the palace of pleasure, where already the two +advance guards were holding one of the best tables in a house +crowded with all classes from debutantes to debauchees. + +"Diamond Jack" Braden was a heavy-set man with a debonnaire, dapper +way about him. He wore a flower in his buttonhole, a smart touch +which seemed very fetching, evidently, to the artistic Vera. + +Constance fell to studying him, as she did all men and women. "His +hands betray him," she said to herself, as she was introduced. + +They were in fact shielded from view as he bowed, one with the thumb +tucked in the corner of his trousers pocket, the other behind his +back. + +"He is hiding something," flashed through her mind intuitively. And, +when she analyzed it, she felt still that there was nothing fanciful +about the idea. It was simply a little unconscious piece of +evidence. + +From the start the cabaret was pretty rapid. When they entered, two +of the performers were rendering the Apache dance with an abandon +that improved on its namesake. Scarcely had they finished when the +orchestra began all over again, and a couple of diners from the +tables glided past them on the dancing floor, then another couple +and another. + +"Tanguez-vous?" bowed Braden, leaning over to Stella. + +"Oui, je tanguerai," she nodded, catching the spirit of the place. + +It left Warrington and Constance at the table with Vera, and as +Constance looked eagerly after the graceful form of the little +actress, Warrington asked, "Will you dance!" + +"No, thank you," she said, trying him out. "I haven't had time to +learn these new steps. And, besides, I have had a bad day in the +market. Steel, Reading, everything is off. Not that I have lost +much--but it's what I haven't made." + +Warrington, who had been about to repeat his question to Vera, +turned suddenly. This was something new to him, to meet a woman like +Constance. If she knew about other stocks, she must know about the +Syndicate. Already he had felt an attraction toward Constance +physically, an attraction of maturity which somehow or other seemed +more satisfying, at least novel, in contrast with, the gay butterfly +talk of Stella. + +He did not ask Vera to dance. Instead he began banteringly to +discuss Wall Street and in five minutes he found out that she really +knew as much about certain features of the game as he did. She did +not need to be told that Alfred Warrington, plunger, man about town, +was quite unexpectedly struck by her personality. + +Now and then she could see Stella eyeing her covertly. The little +actress had had, like many another, a few dollars to invest or +rather with which to speculate. Her method had been usually to make +a quick profit on a tip from some Wall Street friend. Often, if the +tip went wrong, the friend would return the money to the +unsuspecting little girl, with some muttered apology about having +been unable to get it placed in time, and then, as the market went +down or up, seeing that it was too late, adding a congratulation +that at least the principal was saved if there was no profit. + +The little actress was plainly piqued. She saw, though she did not +understand, that Constance was a different kind of plunger from what +she had thought at first up at Charmant's. Instead of trying to +compete with Constance in her field, she redoubled her efforts in +her own. Was Warrington, a live spender, to slip through her grasp +for a chance acquaintance? + +Another dance. This time it was Stella and Warrington. Braden, who +had served excellently as a foil to lead Warrington on when he had +eyes for no one else, not even Vera, was left severely alone. +Nothing was said, not an action done openly, but Constance, woman- +like, could feel the contest in the air. And she felt just a little +quiver when they sat down and Warrington resumed the conversation +with her where he had left it. Even the daring cut of Stella's gown +and the exaggerated proximity of her dainty person had failed this +time. + +As they chatted gaily, Constance enjoyed her triumph to the full. +Yes, she could see that Stella was violently jealous. But she +intended that she should be. That was now a part of her plan as it +shaped itself in her mind, since she had plunged or, perhaps better, +had been dragged into the game. + +As the evening wore on and the dancing became more furious, +Warrington seemed to catch the spirit of recklessness that was in +the very air. He talked more recklessly, once in a while with a +bitterness not aimed at any one in particular, which passed among +the others as blase sarcasm of one who had seen much and to whom +even the fastest was slow. + +But to Constance, as she tried to fathom him, it presented an +entirely different interpretation. For example, she asked herself, +why had he been so ready, apparently, to transfer his interest from +Stella? Was it because, having cut loose from the one feminine tie +that morally bound him, he no longer felt any restraint in cutting +loose from others? Was it the same spirit that had carried him on in +the money game, having cut loose from one financial principle, to +let all go and to guide his course as close to the edge of things as +he dared? There had been the same reckless bravado in the way he had +urged on the driver of his car in the wild ride of the earlier +evening, violating the speed laws yet succeeding in escaping the +traffic squad. + +Warrington was a plunger. Yet there was something about him that was +different from others she had seen. Perhaps it was that he had a +conscience, even though he had succeeded in detaching himself from +it. + +And Stella. There was something different about her, too. Constance +more than once was on the point of revising her estimate of the +little actress. Was she, after all, wholly mercenary in her attitude +toward Warrington? Was he merely a live spender whom she could not +afford to lose? Or was she merely a beautiful, delicate creature +caught in the merciless maelstrom of the life into which she had +been thrown? Did she realize the perilous position this all was +placing her in? + +They were among the last to leave and Vera and Braden offered to +take Constance to her apartment in Braden's car, while Stella +contrived prettily to take so much of Warrington's time with the +wraps that by the time they were ready to go the manner of the +breaking up of the party was as she wanted it. In her final triumph +she could not help just an extra inflection on, "I hope I'll see you +again at Vera's soon, my dear." + +All night, or at least all that was left of it, Constance tried to +straighten out the whirl of her thoughts. With the morning she had +an idea. Now, in a moment when the exhilaration of the gay life was +at low ebb, she must see Stella. + +It was early yet, but Stella was not at her hotel when Constance +cautiously called up the office to find out. Where was she? +Constance drove around to Charmant's on the chance that she might be +there. Vera greeted her a trifle coldly, she thought, but then this +was not midnight at the Montmartre. No, Stella was not there, she +said, but nevertheless Constance decided to wait. + +"I'm all unstrung," confided Constance, with an assumed air of +languor, as she dropped into a chair. + +Charmant, as fresh as if she had just emerged from the proverbial +bandbox, nodded knowingly. "A Turkish bath, massage, something to +tone you up," she advised. + +With alert eyes Constance went patiently through the process of +freshening, first in the steamy hot room where she had met Stella +the day before, then the deliciously cool shower, gentle massage, +and all the rest. + +At one of the little white tables of the manicures she noticed a +pretty, rather sad-faced little woman. There was something about her +that attracted Constance's attention, although she could not have +told exactly what it was. + +"You know her?" whispered Floretta, bursting with excitement. "No? +Why,--" and here she paused and dropped her voice even lower,-- +"that's Mrs. Warrington." + +"Not the--" + +"Yes," she nodded, "his wife. You know, she comes here twice a week. +We have to do some tall scheming to keep them apart. No, it's not +vanity, either. It's--well--you see, she's trying to get him back, +to look like a sport." + +Constance thought of the hopeless fight so far which the little +woman was waging to keep up with the dashing actress. Then she +thought of Warrington, of last night, of how he had sought her, so +ready, it seemed, to leave even the "other woman." Then Floretta's +remark repeated itself mechanically. "We have to do some tall +scheming to keep them apart." Was Stella here, after all? + +Mrs. Warrington was not a bad looking woman and in fact it was +difficult to see how she expected to be improved by cosmetics that +would lighten her complexion, bleaches that would flaxen her hair, +tortures for this, that, and the other defect, real or imagined. + +Now, however, she was a creature of reinforcements, from her puffy +masses of light hair to her French heels and embroidered stockings +that showed through the slash in the drapery of her gown. + +Constance felt sorry for her, deeply sorry. The whole thing seemed +not in keeping with her. She was a home-maker, not a butterfly. Was +Warrington worth it all? asked Constance of herself. "At least she +thinks so," flashed over her, as Mrs. Warrington rose, and left the +room, watchfully guided by Floretta to the next process in her +course in beautification. + +Constance sank back luxuriously on the cushions of her chaise +longue. She longed to explore the beauty parlor, to leave the rest +room and go down the narrow corridor, prying into the secrets of the +little dressing rooms that opened into it. What did they conceal? +Why had Vera seemed so distant? Was it the natural reaction of the +"morning after," or was Stella really there and was she keeping her +away from Mrs. Warrington to prevent friction between two clients +that would have been annoying to all? + +She could reach no conclusion, except that there was a feeling of +luxurious well-being as she lolled back into the deep recesses of +the lounge in the corner of the room separated from the next room by +a thin board partition. + +Suddenly her attention was arrested by muffled voices on the other +side of the partition. She strained her ears. She could not, of +course, see the speakers, or even recognize their voices, but they +were a man and a woman. + +"We must get the thing settled right away," she overheard the man's +voice. "You see how he is? Every new face attracts him. See how he +took to that new one last night. Who knows what may happen? By and +by some one may come along and spoil all." + +"Couldn't we use her?" asked the woman. + +"No, you can't use that woman. She's too clever. But we must do +something, right away--to-night if possible." + +A pause. "How, then?" + +Another pause and the whispered monosyllable, "Dope!" + +"What?" + +"I have it here. Use a dozen of them. They can be snuffed as a +powder, or it can be put in a drink. If you want more--see, I will +put the bottle on this shelf--'way back. No one will see it." + +"Don't you think I ought to write a note, something that will be +sure to get him up here?" + +"Yes--just a line or two--as if in haste." + +There was a sound as if of tearing a sheet of note paper from a pad. + +"Is that all right?" + +"Yes. As soon as the market closes. There will be nothing done to- +day. To-morrow's the day. To-night we must get him going and in the +meantime a meeting will be held, the plan arranged at the Prince +Henry to-night--and then the smash. Between them all, he won't know +what has struck him." + +"All right. You had better go out as you came in. It's better that +no one up here should suspect anything." + +The voices ceased. + +What did it mean! Constance rose and sauntered around into the next +room. It was empty, but when she looked hastily up on the shelf +there was a bottle of white tablets and on a table a pad of note +paper from which a sheet had been torn. + +She picked up the bottle gingerly. Who had touched it? Her mind was +working quickly. Somewhere she had read of finger prints and the +subject had interested her because the system had been introduced in +banks and she saw that it was going to become more and more +important. + +But how did they get them in a case like this? She had read of some +powder that adhered to the marks left by the sweat glands of the +fingers. There was the talcum powder. Perhaps it would do. + +Quickly she shook the box gently over the glass. Then she blew it +off carefully. + +Clear, sharp, distinct, there were the imprints of fingers! + +But the paper. Talcum powder would not bring them out on that. It +must be something black. + +A lead pencil! Eagerly she seized it and with, a little silver pen- +knife whittled off the wood. Scrape! scrape! until she had a neat +little pile of finely powdered graphite. + +Then she poured it on the paper and taking the sheet daintily by the +edges, so that she would not mix her own finger prints with the +others, she rolled the powder back and forth. As she looked +anxiously she could see the little grains adhering to the paper. + +A fine camel's hair brush lay on the table, for penciling. She took +it deftly. It made her think of that first time when she painted the +checks for Carlton. A lump came into her throat. + +There they were, the second pair of telltale prints. But what tale +did they tell? Whose were they? + +Her reading on finger prints had been very limited but, like +everything she did, to the point. She studied those before her, +traced out as best she could the loops, whorls, arches, and +composites, even counted the ridges on some of them. It was not so +difficult, after all. + +She stopped in an uptown branch of her brokers in one of the hotels. +The market was very quiet, and even the Rubber Syndicate seemed to +be marking time. As she went out she passed the telephone booths. +Should she call up Warrington? Would he misinterpret it? What if he +did? She was mistress of her own tongue. She need not say too much. +Besides, if she were going on a fishing expedition, a telephone line +was as good as any other--better than a visit. + +"This is Mrs. Dunlap," she said directly. + +"Oh, how do you do, Mrs. Dunlap. I have been intending to call you +up, but," he paused, and added, "you know we are having a pretty +strenuous time down here." + +There was a genuine ring to the first part of his reply. But the +rest of it trailed off into the old blase tone. + +"I'm sorry," she replied. "I enjoyed last night so much." + +"Did you?" came back eagerly. + +Before he could add anything she asked, "I suppose you are going to +see Stella again this afternoon." + +"Why--er--yes," he hesitated. "I think so." + +"Where? At Vera's?" she asked, adopting a tone not of curiosity but +of chiding him for seeing Stella instead of herself. + +The moment of hesitation, before he said that he didn't know, told +her the truth. It was as good as a plain, "Yes." + +For a few moments they chatted. As she hung up the receiver after +his deferential goodbye, Constance knew that she had gained a new +angle from which to observe Warrington's character. He was intensely +human and he was "in wrong." Here was a mess, all around. + +The day wore on, yet brought no indecision as to what she would do, +though it brought no solution as to how to do it. The inaction was +worse than anything else. The last quotations had come in over the +ticker, showing the Syndicate stocks still unchanged. She left her +brokers and sat for a few moments in the rotunda of the hotel, +considering. She could stand it no longer. Whatever happened, she +would run around to Charmant's. Some excuse would occur when she got +there. + +As Constance alighted from the private elevator, a delicate scent as +of attar of roses smote lightly on her, and there was, if anything, +a greater air of exotic warmth about the place. Everything, from the +electric bulbs buried deep in the clusters of amber artificial +flowers to the bright green leaves on the dainty trellises, the +little square-paned windows and white furniture, bespoke luxury. +There was an inviting "tone" to it all. + +"I'm glad I've found you," began Constance to Stella, as though +nothing had happened. "There is something I'd like to say to you +besides thanking you most kindly for the good time last--" + +"Is there anything I can do for you?" interrupted Madame Charmant in +a business like tone. "I am sure that Miss Larue invited you last +night because she thought you were lonely. She and Mr. Warrington, +you know, are old friends." + +Charmant emphasized the remark to mean, "You trespassed on forbidden +ground, if you thought you could get him away." + +Constance seemed not to notice the implication. + +"There is something I'd like to say," she repeated gently. + +She picked up a little inking pad which lay on a mahogany secretary +which Vera used as an office desk. + +"If you will be so kind, Stella, as to place your fingers flat on +this pad-never mind about the ink; call Floretta; she will wipe them +off afterwards-and then on this piece of paper, I won't bother you +further." + +Almost before she knew it, the little actress had placed her dainty +white hand on the pad and then on the paper. + +Constance did the same, to illustrate, then called Floretta. "If +Vera will do as I have done," she said, offering her the pad, and +taking her hand. Charmant complied, and when Floretta arrived her +impressions were added to the others. + +"There's a man wishes to see you, outside, Madame," said Floretta, +wiping off the soiled finger tips. + +"Tell him to wait--in the little room." + +Floretta opened the door to go out and through it Constance caught +sight of a familiar face. + +A moment later the man was in the room with them. It was Drummond, +the same sneer, the same assurance in his manner. + +"So," he snarled at Constance. "You here?" + +"I seem to be here," she answered calmly. "Why?" + +"Never mind why," he blustered. "I knew you saw me the other night. +I heard you tell 'em to hit it up so as to shake me. But I found out +all right." + +"Found out what?" asked Constance coldly. + +"Say, that's about your style, isn't it? You always get in when it +comes to trimming the good spenders, don't you?" + +"Mr. Drummond," she replied, "I don't care to talk to you." + +"You don't, hey? Well, perhaps, when the time comes you'll have to +talk. How about that?" + +She was thinking rapidly. Was Mrs. Warrington preparing to strike a +blow that would be the last impulse necessary to send the plunger +down for the last time? She decided to take a chance, to temporize +until some one else made a move. + +"I'd thank you to place your fingers on this pad," said Constance +quietly. "I'm making a collection of these things." + +"You are, are you?" + +"Yes," she cut short. "And if my collection isn't large enough I +shall call up Mrs. Warrington and ask her to come over, too," she +added significantly. + +Floretta entered again. "Please wipe the ink off Mr. Drummond's +fingers," ordered Constance quietly, still holding out the pad. + +"Confound your impudence," he ground out, seizing the pad. "There! +What do you mean by Mrs. Warrington? What has she to do with this? +Have a care, Mrs. Dunlap--you're on the wrong track here, and going +the wrong way." + +"Mr. Warrington is--" began Floretta. + +"Show him in--quick," demanded Constance, determined to bring the +affair to a show-down on the spot. + +As the door swung open, Warrington looked at the group in unfeigned +surprise. + +"Mr. Warrington," greeted Constance without giving any of the others +a chance, "this morning, I heard a little conversation up here. +Floretta, will you go into the little room, and on the top shelf you +will find a bottle. Bring it here carefully. I have a sheet of +paper, also, which I am going to show you. I had already seen the +little woman, Mr. Warrington, whom you have treated so unjustly. She +was here trying vainly to win you back by those arts which she +thinks must appeal to you." + +Floretta returned with the bottle and placed it on the secretary +beside Constance. + +"Some one took some tablets from this bottle and gave them to some +one else who wrote on this paper," she resumed, bending first over +the paper she had torn from the pad. "Ah, a loop with twelve ridges, +another loop, a whorl, a whorl, a loop. The marks on this paper +correspond precisely with those made here just now by--Vera Charmant +herself!" + +"You get out of here--quick," snarled Drummond, placing himself +between the now furious Vera and Constance. + +"One minute," replied Constance calmly. "I am sure Mr. Warrington is +a gentleman, if you are not. Perhaps I have no finger prints to +correspond with those on the bottle. If not, I am sure that we can +send for some one whose prints will do so." + +She was studying the bottle. + +"The other, however," she said slowly to conceal her own surprise, +"was a person who has been set to trail you and Stella, Mr. +Warrington, a detective named Drummond!" + +Suddenly the truth flashed over her. Drummond was not employed by +Mrs. Warrington at all. Then by whom? By the directors. And the rest +of these people? Grafters who were using Stella to bait the hook. +Braden had gone over to them, had aided in plunging Warrington into +the wild life until he could no longer play the business game as +before. Charmant was his confederate, Drummond his witness. + +"Stella," said Constance, turning suddenly to the little actress, +"Stella, they are using you, 'Diamond Jack' and Vera, using you to +lead him on, playing the game of the minority of the directors of +the Syndicate to get him out. There is to be a meeting of the +directors to-night at the Prince Henry. He was to be in no condition +to go. Are you willing to be mixed up in such a scandal?" + +Stella Larue was crying into a lace handkerchief. "You--you are all +--against me," she sobbed. "What have I done?" + +"Nothing," soothed Constance, patting her shoulder. "As for Charmant +and Drummond, they are tied by these proofs," she added, tapping the +papers with the prints, then picking them up and handing them to +Warrington. "I think if the story were told to the directors at the +Prince Henry to-night with reporters waiting downstairs in the +lobby, it might produce a quieting effect." + +Warrington was speechless. He saw them all against him, Vera, +Braden, Stella, Drummond. + +"More than that," added Constance, "nothing that you can ever do can +equal the patience, the faith of the little woman I saw here to-day, +slaving, yes, slaving for beauty. Here in my hand, in these scraps +of paper, I hold your old life,--not part of it, but ALL of it," she +emphasized. "You have your chance. Will you take it?" + +He looked up quickly at Stella Larue. She had risen impulsively and +flung her arms about Constance. + +"Yes," he muttered huskily, taking the papers, "all of it." + + + + +CHAPTER VIII + +THE ABDUCTORS + + +"Take care of me--please--please!" + +A slip of a girl, smartly attired in a fur-trimmed dress and a chic +little feather-tipped hat, hurried up to Constance Dunlap late one +afternoon as she turned the corner below her apartment. + +"It isn't faintness or illness exactly--but--it's all so hazy," +stammered the girl breathlessly. "And I've forgotten who I am. I've +forgotten where I live--and a man has been following me--oh, ever so +long." + +The weariness in the tone of the last words caused Constance to look +more closely at the girl. Plainly she was on the verge of hysterics. +Tears were streaming down her pale cheeks and there were dark rings +under her eyes, suggestive of a haunting fear of something from +which she fled. + +Constance was astounded for the moment. Was the girl crazy? She had +heard of cases like this, but to meet one so unexpectedly was surely +disconcerting. + +"Who has been following you!" asked Constance gently, looking +hastily over her shoulder and seeing no one. + +"A man," exclaimed the girl, "but I think he has gone now." + +"Can't you think of your name!" urged Constance. "Try." + +"No," cried the girl, "no, I can't, I can't." + +"Or your address?" repeated Constance. "Try--try hard!" + +The girl looked vacantly about. + +"No," she sobbed, "it's all gone--all." + +Puzzled, Constance took her arm and slowly walked her up the street +toward her own apartment in the hope that she might catch sight of +some familiar face or be able to pull herself together. + +But it was of no use. + +They passed a policeman who eyed them sharply. The mere sight of the +blue-coated officer sent a shudder through the already trembling +girl on her arm. + +"Don't, don't let them take me to a hospital--don't," pleaded the +girl in a hoarse whisper when they had passed the officer. + +"I won't," reassured Constance. "Was that the man who was following +you?" + +"No--oh, no," sobbed the girl nervously looking back. + +"Who was he, then?" asked Constance eagerly. + +The girl did not answer, but continued to look back wildly from time +to time, although there was no doubt that, if he existed at all, the +man had disappeared. + +Suddenly Constance realized that she had on her hands a case of +aphasia, perhaps real, perhaps induced by a drug. + +At any rate, the fear of being sent away to an institution was so +strong in the poor creature that Constance felt intuitively how +disastrous to her might be the result of disregarding the obsession. + +She was in a quandary. What should she do with the girl? To leave +her on the street was out of the question. She was now more helpless +than ever. + +They had reached the door of the apartment. Gently she led the +trembling girl into her own home. + +But now the question of what to do arose with redoubled force. She +hesitated to call a physician, at least yet, because his first +advice would probably be to send the poor little stranger to the +psychopathic ward of some hospital. + +Constance's eye happened to rest on the dictionary in her bookcase. +Perhaps she might recall the girl's name to her, if she were not +shamming, by reading over the list of women's names in the back of +the book. + +It meant many minutes, perhaps hours. But then Constance reflected +on what might have happened to the girl if she had chanced to appeal +to some one who had not felt a true interest in her. It was worth +trying. She would do it. + +Starting with "A," she read slowly. + +"Is your name Abigail?" + +Down through Barbara, Camilla, Deborah, Edith, Faith, she read. + +"Flora?" she asked. + +The girl seemed to apprehend something, appear less blank. + +"Florence?" persisted Constance. + +"Oh, yes," she cried, "that's it--that's my name." + +But as for the last name and the address she was just as hazy as +ever. Still, there was now something different about her. + +"Florence--Florence what?" reiterated Constance patiently. + +There was no answer. But with the continued repetition it seemed as +if some depth in her nature had been stirred. Constance could not +help feeling that the girl had really found herself. + +She had risen and was facing Constance, both hands pressed to her +throbbing temples as if to keep her head from bursting. Constance +had assisted her off with her coat and hat, and now the sartorial +wreck of her masses of blonde hair was apparent. + +"I suppose," she cried incoherently, "I'm just one more of the +thousands of girls who drop out of sight every year." + +Constance listened in amazement. As the spell of her influence +seemed to calm the overwrought mind of the girl there succeeded a +hardness in her tone that was wholly out of keeping with her youth. +There was something that breathed of a past where there should have +been nothing but the thought of a future. + +"Tell me why," soothed Constance with an air that invited +confidence. + +The girl looked up and again passed her hand over her white forehead +with its mass of tangled fallen hair. Somehow Constance felt a +tingling sensation of sympathy in her heart. Impulsively she put out +her hand and took the cold moist hand of the girl. + +"Because," she hesitated, struggling now with re-flooding +consciousness, "because--I don't know. I thought, perhaps--" she +added, dropping her eyes, "you could--help me." + +She was speaking rapidly enough now, "I think they have employed +detectives to trace me. One of them is almost up with me. I'm afraid +I can't slip out of the net again. And--I--I won't go back to them. +I can't. I won't." + +"Go back to whom?" queried her friend. "Detectives employed by +whom?" + +"My folks," she answered quickly. + +Constance was surprised. Least of all had she expected that. + +"Why won't you go home?" she prompted as the girl seemed about to +lapse into a sort of stolid reticence. + +"Home?" she repeated bitterly. "Home? No one would believe my story. +I couldn't go home, now. They have made it impossible for me to go +home. I mean, every newspaper has published my picture. There were +headlines for days, and only by chance I was not recognized." + +She was sobbing now convulsively. "If they had only let me alone! I +might have gone back, then. But now--after the newspapers and the +search--never! And yet I am going to have revenge some day. When he +least expects it I am going to tell the truth and--" + +She stopped. + +"And what?" asked Constance. + +"Tell the truth--and then do a cowardly thing. I would--" + +"You would not!" blazed Constance. + +There was no mistaking the meaning. + +"Leave it to me. Trust me. I will help you." + +She pulled the girl down on the divan beside her. + +"Why talk of suicide?" mused Constance. "You can plead this aphasia +I have just seen. I know lots of newspaper women. We could carry it +through so that even the doctors would help us. Remember, aphasia +will do for a girl nowadays what nothing else can do." + +"Aphasia!" Florence repeated harshly. "Call it what you like-- +weakness--anything. I--I loved that man--not the one who followed +me--another. I believed him. But he left me--left me in a place-- +across in Brooklyn. They said I was a fool, that some other fellow, +perhaps better, with more money, would take care of me. But I left. +I got a place in a factory. Then some one in the factory became +suspicious. I had saved a little. It took me to Boston. + +"Again some one grew suspicious. I came back here, here--the only +place to hide. I got another position as waitress in the Betsy Ross +Tea Room. There I was able to stay until yesterday. But then a man +came in. He had been there before. He seemed too interested in me, +not in a way that others have been, but in me--my name. Some how I +suspected. I put on my hat and coat. I fled. I think he followed me. +All night I have walked the streets and ridden in cars to get away +from him. At last--I appealed to you." + +The girl had sunk back into the soft pillows of the couch beside her +new friend and hid her face. Softly Constance patted and smoothed +the wealth of golden hair. + +"You--you poor little girl," she sympathized. + +Then a film came over her own eyes. + +"New York took me at a critical time in my own life," she said more +to herself than to the girl. "She sheltered me, gave me a new start. +What she did for me she will do for any other person who really +wishes to make a fresh start in life. I made few acquaintances, no +friends. Fortunately, the average New Yorker asks only that his +neighbor leave him alone. No hermit could find better and more +complete solitude than in the heart of this great city." + +Constance looked pityingly at the girl before her. + +"Why can't you tell them," she suggested, "that you wanted to be +independent, that you went away to make your own living?" + +"But--they--my father--is well off. And they have this detective who +follows me. He will find me some day--for the reward--and will tell +the truth." + +"The reward?" + +"Yes--a thousand dollars. Don't you remember reading--" + +The girl stopped short as if to check herself. + +"You--you are Florence Gibbons!" gasped Constance as with a rush +there came over her the recollection of a famous unsolved mystery of +several months before. + +The girl did not look up as Constance bent over and put her arms +about her. + +"Who was he?" she asked persuasively. + +"Preston--Lansing Preston," she sobbed bitterly. "Only the other day +I read of his engagement to a girl in Chicago--beautiful, in +society. Oh--I could KILL him," she cried, throwing out her arms +passionately. "Think of it. He--rich, powerful, respected. I--poor, +almost crazy--an outcast." + +Constance did not interfere until the tempest had passed. + +"What name did you give at the tea room?" asked Constance. + +"Viola Cole," answered Florence. + +"Rest here," soothed Constance. "Here at least you are safe. I have +an idea. I shall be back soon." + +The Betsy Ross was still open after the rush of tired shoppers and +later of business women to whom this was not only a restaurant but a +club. Constance entered and sat down. + +"Is the manager in?" she asked of the waitress. + +"Mrs. Palmer? No. But, if you care to wait, I think she'll be back +directly." + +As Constance sat toying absently with some food at one of the snowy +white tables, a man entered. A man in a tea room is an anomaly. For +the tea room is a woman's institution, run by women for women. Men +enter with diffidence, and seldom alone. This man was quite +evidently looking for some one. + +His eye fell on Constance. Her heart gave a leap. It was her old +enemy, Drummond, the detective. For a moment he hesitated, then +bowed, and came over to her table. + +"Peculiar places, these tea rooms," observed Drummond. + +Constance was doing some quick thinking. Could this be the detective +Florence Gibbons had mentioned? + +"The only thing lacking to make them complete," he rattled on, "is a +license. Now, take those places that have a ladies' bar--that do +openly what tea rooms do covertly. They don't reckon with the +attitude of women. This is New York--not Paris. Such things are +years off. I don't say they'll not come or that women won't use +them--but not by that name--not yet." + +Constance wondered what his cynical inconsequentialities masked. + +"I think it adds to the interest," she observed, watching him +furtively, "this evasion of the laws." + +Drummond was casting about for something to do and, naturally, to a +mind like his, a drink was the solution. Evidently, however, there +were degrees of brazenness, even in tea rooms. The Betsy Ross not +only would not produce a labeled bottle and an obvious glass but +stoutly denied their ability to fill such an order, even whispered. + +"Russian tea?" suggested Drummond cryptically. + +"How will you have it--with Scotch or rye?" asked the waitress. + +"Bourbon," hazarded Drummond. + +When the "Russian tea" arrived it was in a neat little pot with two +others, the first containing real tea and the second hot water. It +was served virtuously in tea cups, so opaquely concealed that no one +but the clandestine drinker could know what sort of poison was being +served. + +Mrs. Palmer was evidently later than expected. Drummond fidgeted +after the manner of a man out of his accustomed habitat. And yet he +did not seem to be interested really in Constance, or even in Mrs. +Palmer. For after a few moments, he rose and excused himself. + +"How did HE come here?" Constance asked herself over and over. + +As far as she could reason it out, there could be only one reason. +Drummond was clearly up with Florence. Did he also know that +Constance was shielding her? + +The more she thought of it, the more she shuddered at the tactless +way in which the detective would perform the act of "charity" by +discovering the lost girl--and pocketing the reward. + +If her family only knew, how eagerly they might let her come back in +her own way. She looked up the address of Everett Gibbons while she +was waiting, a half-formed plan taking definite shape in her mind. + +What--she did must be done quickly. Here at the tea room at least +Florence, or rather Viola, was known. Perhaps the best way, after +all, was to let her be discovered here. They could not deny that she +had been working for them acceptably for some time. + +Half an hour later, Mrs. Palmer, a bustling business woman, came in +and the waitress pointed her out to Constance. + +"Did you have a waitress here named Viola Cole?" began Constance, +watching keenly the effect of her inquiry. + +"Yes," replied Mrs. Palmer in a tone of interest that reassured +Constance that, if there were any connection between Drummond's +presence and Mrs. Palmer, it was wholly on his seeking. "But she +disappeared last night. A most peculiar girl--but a splendid +worker." + +"She has been ill," Constance hastened to explain. "I am a friend of +hers. I have a business downtown and could not come around until to- +night to tell you that she will be back to-morrow if you will take +her back." + +"Of course I'll take her back. I'm sorry she's ill," and Mrs. Palmer +bustled out into the kitchen, not unfeelingly but merely because +that was her manner. + +Constance paid her check and left the tea room. So far she had +succeeded. The next thing she had planned was a visit to Mr. +Gibbons. That need not take long, for she was not going to tell +anything. Her idea was merely to pave the way. + +The Gibbons she found, lived in a large house on one of the numerous +side streets from the Park, in a neighborhood that was in fact +something more than merely well-to-do. + +Fortunately she found Everett Gibbons in and was ushered into his +study, where he sat poring over some papers and enjoying an after- +dinner cigar. + +"Mr. Gibbons," began Constance, "I believe there is a one thousand +dollar reward for news of the whereabouts of your daughter, +Florence." + +"Yes," he said in a colorless tone that betrayed the hopelessness of +the long search. "But we have traced down so many false clues that +we have given up hope. Since the day she went away, we have never +been able to get the slightest trace of her. Still, we welcome +outside aid." + +"Of detectives?" she asked. + +"Official and private--paid and volunteer--anybody," he answered. "I +myself have come to the belief that she is dead, for that is the +only explanation I can think of for her long silence." + +"She is not dead," replied Constance in a low tone. + +"Not dead?" he repeated eagerly, catching at even such a straw as an +unknown woman might cast out. "Then you know--" + +"No," she interrupted positively, "I cannot tell you any more. You +must call off all other searchers. I will let you know." + +"When?" + +"To-morrow, perhaps the next day. I will call you on the telephone." + +She rose and made a hasty adieu before the man who had been +prematurely aged might overwhelm her with questions and break down +her resolution to carry the thing through as she had seen best. + +Cheerily, Constance turned the key in the lock of her door. + +There was no light and somehow the silence smote on her ominously. + +"Florence!" she called. + +There was no answer. + +Not a sign indicated her presence. There was the divan with the +pillows disarranged as they had been when she left. The furniture +was in the same position as before. Hastily she went from one room +to another. Florence had disappeared! + +She went to the door again. All seemed right there. If any one had +entered, it must have been because he was admitted, for there were +no marks to indicate that the lock had been forced. + +She called up the tea room. Mrs. Palmer was very sympathetic, but +there had been no trace of "Viola Cole" there yet. + +"You will let me know if you get any word?" asked Constance +anxiously. + +"Surely," came back Mrs. Palmer's cordial reply. + +A hundred dire possibilities crowded through her mind. Might +Florence be held somewhere as a "white slave"--not by physical force +but by circumstances, ignorant of her rights, afraid to break away +again? + +Or was it suicide, as she had threatened? She could not believe it. +Nothing could have happened in such a short time to change her +resolution about revenge. + +The recollection of all the stories she had read recently crossed +her mind. Could it be a case of drugs? The girl had given no +evidence of being a "dope" fiend. + +Perhaps some one had entered, after all. + +She thought of the so-called "poisoned needle" cases. Might she not +have been spirited off in that way? Constance had doubted the +stories. She knew that almost any doctor would say that it was +impossible to inject a narcotic by a sudden jab of a hypodermic +syringe. That was rather a slow, careful and deliberate operation, +to be submitted to with patience. + +Yet Florence was gone! + +Suddenly it flashed over Constance that Drummond might not be +seeking the reward primarily, after all. His first object might be +shielding Preston. She recollected that Mr. Gibbons had said nothing +about Drummond, either one way or the other. And if he were both +shielding Preston and working for the reward, he would care little +how much Florence suffered. He might be playing both ends to serve +himself. + +She rang the elevator bell. + +"Has anybody called at my apartment while I was out?" she asked. + +"Yes'm. A man came here." + +"And you let him up?" + +"I didn't know you were out. You see I had just come on. He said he +was to meet some one at your apartment. And when he pressed the +buzzer, the door opened, and I ran the elevator down again. I +thought it was all right, ma'am." + +"And then what?" inquired Constance breathlessly. + +"Well, in about five minutes my bell rang. I ran the elevator up +again, and, waiting, was this man with a girl I had never seen +before. You understand--I thought it was all right--he told me he +was going to meet some one." + +"Yes--yes. I understand. Oh, my God, if I had only thought to leave +word not to let her go. How did she look?" + +"Her clothes, you mean, Ma'am?" + +"No--her face, her eyes!" + +"Beggin' your pardon, I thought she was--well, er,--acted queer-- +scared--dazed-like." + +"You didn't notice which way they went, I suppose!" + +"No ma'am, I didn't." + +Constance turned back again into her empty apartment, heart-sick. In +spite of all she had planned and done, she was defeated--worse than +defeated. Where was Florence! What might not happen to her! She +could have sat down and cried. Instead she passed a feverishly +restless night. + +All the next day passed, and still not a word. She felt her own +helplessness. She could not appeal to the police. That might defeat +the very end she sought. She was single-handed. For all she knew, +she was fighting the almost limitless power of brains and money of +Preston. Inquiry developed the fact that Preston himself was +reported to be in Chicago with his fiancee. Time and again she was +on the point of making the journey to let him know that some one at +least was watching him. But, she reflected, if she did that she +might miss the one call from Florence for help. + +Then she thought bitterly of the false hopes she had raised in the +despairing father of Florence Gibbons. It was maddening. + +Several times during the day Constance dropped into the Betsy Ross, +without finding any word. + +Late that night the buzzer on her door sounded. It was Mrs. Palmer +herself, with a letter at last, written on rough paper in pencil +with a trembling hand. + +Constance almost literally pounced on it. + +"Will you tell the lady who was so kind to me that while she was out +seeing you at the tea room, there was a call at her door? I didn't +like to open it, but when I asked who was there, a man said it was +the steam-fitter she had asked to call about the heat. + +"I opened the door. From that moment when I saw his face until I +came to myself here I remember nothing. I would write to her, only I +don't know where she lives. One of the bell-boys here is kind enough +to smuggle this note out for me addressed to the Betsy Boss. + +"Tell her please, that I am at a place in Brooklyn, I think, called +Lustgarten's--she can recognize it because it is at a railroad +crossing--steam railroads, not trolleys or elevateds. + +"I know you think me crazy, Mrs. Palmer, but the other lady can tell +you about it. Oh, it was the same horrible feeling that came over me +that night as before. It isn't a dream; it's more like a trance. It +comes in a second--usually when I am frightened. I suddenly feel +nervous and shaky. I can't tell what is going on around me. I lose +my hearing. Part of the time it is as though, I had a paralytic +stroke of the tongue. The next day, perhaps, it is gone. But while +it lasts it is terrifying. It's like walking into a new world, with +everybody, everything strange about me." + +The note ended with a most pathetic appeal. + +Constance was already nervously putting on her hat. + +"You are going to go there?" asked Mrs. Palmer. + +"If I can locate the place," she answered. + +"Aren't you afraid?" inquired the other. + +Constance did not reply. She ostentatiously slipped a little ivory- +handled revolver into her handbag. + +"It's a new one," she explained finally, "like nothing you ever +heard of before, I guess. I bought it only the other day after a +friend of mine told me about it." + +Mrs. Palmer was watching her closely. + +"You--you are a wonderful woman," she burst out finally. "It isn't +good business, it isn't good sense." + +Constance stopped short in her preparations for the search. "What +are business and sense compared to the--the life of--" + +She checked herself on the very point of revealing the girl's real +name. + +"Nothing," replied Mrs. Palmer. "I had already made up my mind to go +with you before I spoke--if you will let me." + +In a moment the two understood each other better than after years of +casual acquaintance. + +Back and forth through the mazes of streets and car lines of the +city across the river the two women traveled, asking veiled +questions of every wearer of a uniform, until at last they found +such a place as Florence had described in her note. + +There, it seemed, had sprung up a little center of vice. While +reformers were trying to clamp down tight the "lid" in New York, all +the vicious elements were prying it up here. Crushed in one place, +they rose again in another. + +There was the electric sign--"Lustgarten." Even a cursory glance +told them that it included a saloon on the first floor, with a sort +of dance hall and second-rate cabaret. Above that was a hotel. The +windows were darkened, with awnings pulled down, even on what must +have been in the daytime the shady side. + +"Shall we go in? Are you game?" asked Constance of her companion. + +"I haven't gone so far without considering that," replied Mrs. +Palmer, somewhat reproachfully. + +Without a word Constance entered the door down the street followed +by her companion. + +A negro at the little cubby hole of an office pushed out a register +at them. Constance signed the first names that came into her head, +and a moment later they were on their way up to a big double room on +the third floor, led by another, younger negro. + +"Will you send the bell-boy up?" asked Constance as they entered the +room. + +"I'm the bell-boy ma'am," was his disconcerting reply. + +"I mean the other one," replied Constance, hazarding, "the one who +is here in the day time." + +"There ain't no other boy, ma'am. There ain't no--" + +"Could you deliver a note for me at a tea room in New York to- +morrow?" interrupted Constance, striking while the iron seemed hot. + +The boy turned around abruptly from his busy occupation of doing +something useless that would elicit a tip. He quietly shut the door, +and wheeled about with his hand still on the knob. + +"Do you want to know what room she's in?" he asked. + +Constance opened her handbag. Mrs. Palmer suppressed a little +scream. She had expected that ivory-handled thing to appear. Instead +there was a treasury note of a size that caused the white part of +the boy's eyes to expand beyond all the laws of optics. + +"Yes," she said, pressing it into his hand. + +"Forty-two-down the hall, around the turn, on the other side," +whispered the boy. "And for God's sake, ma'am, don't tell nobody I +told you." + +His shuffle down the hall had scarcely ceased before the two women +were stealthily creeping in the opposite direction, looking eagerly +at the numbers. + +Constance had stopped abruptly around the turn. Through a transom of +one of the rooms they could hear voices but could see no light. + +"Well, go back then," growled a gruff voice. "Your family will never +believe your story, never believe that you came again and stayed at +Lustgarten's against your will. Why," the voice taunted with a harsh +laugh, "if they knew the truth, they would turn you from the door, +instead of offering a reward." + +There was a moment of silence. Then a woman's voice, strangely +familiar to Constance, spoke. + +"The truth!" she exclaimed bitterly. "He knew it was a case of a +girl who liked a good time, liked pretty clothes, a ride in an +automobile, theaters, excitement, bright lights, night life--a girl +with a romantic disposition in whom all that was repressed at home. +He knew it," she repeated, raising the tone to an almost hysterical +pitch, "led me on, made me love him because he could give them all +to me. And when I began to show the strain of the pace-they all show +it more than the men--he cast me aside like a squeezed-out lemon." + +As she listened, Constance understood it all now. It was to make +Florence Gibbons a piece of property, a thing to be traded in, +bartered--that was the idea. Discover her--yes; but first to thrust +her into the life if she would not go into it herself--anything to +discredit her testimony beforehand, anything to save the precious +reputation of one man. + +"Well," shouted the other voice menacingly, "do you want to know the +truth? Haven't you read it often enough? Instead of hoping you will +return, they pray that you are DEAD!" + +He hissed the words out, then added, "They prefer to think that you +are dead. Why--damn it!--they turn to that belief for COMFORT!" + +Constance had seized Mrs. Palmer by the arm, and, acting in concert, +they threw both their weights against the thin wooden door. + +It yielded with a crash. + +Inside the room was dark. + +Indistinctly Constance could make out two figures, one standing, the +other seated in a deep rocker. + +A suppressed exclamation of surprise was followed by a hasty lunge +of the standing figure toward her. + +Constance reached quickly into her handbag and drew out the little +ivory-handled pistol. + +"Bang!" it spat almost into the man's face. + +Choking, sputtering, the man groped a minute blindly, then fell on +the floor and frantically tried to rise again and call out. + +The words seemed to stick in his throat. + +"You--you shot him?" gasped a woman's voice which Constance now knew +was Florence's. + +"With the new German Secret Service gun," answered Constance +quietly, keeping it leveled to cow any assistance that might be +brought. "It blinds and stupefies without killing--a bulletless +revolver intended to check and render harmless the criminal instead +of maiming him. The cartridges contain several chemicals that +combine when they are exploded and form a vapor which blinds a man +and puts him out. No one wants to kill such a person as this." + +She reached over and switched on the lights. + +The man on the floor was Drummond himself. + +"You will tell your real employer, Mr. Preston," she added +contemptuously, "that unless he agrees to our story of his elopement +with Florence, marries her, and allows her to start an undefended +action for divorce, we intend to make use of the new federal Mann +Act--with a jail sentence--for both of you." + +Drummond looked up sullenly, still blinking and choking. + +"And not a word of this until the suit is filed. Then WE will see +the reporters--not he. Understand?" + +"Yes," he muttered, still clutching his throat. + +An hour later Constance was at the telephone in her own apartment. + +"Mr. Gibbons? I must apologize for troubling you at this late, or +rather early, hour. But I promised you something which I could not +fulfill until now. This is the Mrs. Dunlap who called on you the +other day with a clue to your daughter Florence. I have found her-- +yes--working as a waitress in the Betsy Ross Tea Boom. No--not a +word to anyone--not even to her mother. No--not a word. You can see +her to-morrow--at my apartment. She is going to live with me for a +few days until--well--until we get a few little matters straightened +out." + +Constance had jammed the receiver back on the hook hastily. + +Florence Gibbons, wild-eyed, trembling, imploring, had flung her +arms about her neck. + +"No--no--no," she cried. "I can't. I won't." + +With a force that was almost masculine, Constance took the girl by +both shoulders. + +"The one thousand dollar reward which comes to me," said Constance +decisively, "will help us--straighten out those few little matters +with Preston. Mrs. Palmer can stretch the time which you have worked +for her." + +Something of Constance's will seemed to be infused into Florence +Gibbons by force of suggestion. + +"And remember," Constance added in a tense voice, "for anything +after your elopement--it's aphasia, aphasia, APHASIA!" + + + + +CHAPTER IX + +THE SHOPLIFTERS + + +"Madam, would you mind going with me for a few moments to the office +on the third floor?" + +Constance Dunlap had been out on a shopping excursion. She had +stopped at the jewelry counter of Stacy's to have a ring repaired +and had gone on to the leather goods department to purchase +something else. + +The woman who spoke to her was a quietly dressed young person, quite +inconspicuous, with a keen eye that seemed to take in everything +within a radius of a wide-angled lens at a glance. + +She leaned over and before Constance could express even surprise, +added in a whisper, "Look in your bag." + +Constance looked hastily, then realized what had happened. The ring +was gone! + +It gave her quite a shock, too, for the ring, a fine diamond, was a +present from her husband, one of the few pieces of jewelry, +treasured not only for its intrinsic value but as a remembrance of +Carlton and the supreme sacrifice he had made for her. + +She had noticed nothing in the crowd, nothing more than she had +noticed scores of times before. The woman watched her puzzled look. + +"I've been following you," she said. "By this time the other store +detectives must have caught the shoplifter and bag-opener who +touched you. You see, we don't make any arrests in the store if we +can help it, because we don't like to make a scene. It's bad for +business. Besides, if she had anything else, we are safer when the +case comes to court, if we have caught her actually leaving the +store with it. Of course, when we make an arrest on the sidewalk, we +bring the shoplifter back, but in a private, back elevator." + +Constance was following the young woman mechanically. At least there +was a chance of recovering the ring. + +"She was standing next to you at the jewelry counter," she +continued, "and if you will help identify her the store management +will appreciate it--and make it worth your while. Besides," she +urged, "It's really your duty to do it, madam." + +Constance remembered now the rather simply but richly gowned young +woman who had been standing next to her at the counter, seemingly +unable to decide which of a number of beautiful rings she really +wanted. She remembered because, with her own love of beauty, she had +wanted one herself, in fact had thought at the time that she, too, +might have difficulty in choosing. + +With the added feeling of curiosity, Constance followed the woman +detective up in the elevator. + +In the office, apart in a little room curiously furnished with a +camera, innumerable photographs, cabinets, and filing cases, was a +young woman, perhaps twenty-six or seven. On a table before her lay +a pile of laces and small trinkets. There, too, was the beautiful +diamond ring which she had hidden in her muff. Constance fairly +gasped at the sight. + +The girl was sitting limply in a chair crying bitterly. She was not +a hardened looking creature. In fact, her face bore evident traces +of refinement, and her long, slender fingers hinted at a nervous, +artistic temperament. It was rather a shock to see such a girl under +such distressing circumstances. + +"We've lost so much lately," a small ferret-eyed man was saying, +"that we must make an example of some one. It's serious for us +detectives, too. We'll lose our jobs unless we can stop you +boosters." + +"Oh--I--I didn't mean to do it. I--I just couldn't help it," sobbed +the girl over and over again. + +"Yes," drawled the man, "that's what they all say. But you've been +caught with the goods, this time, young lady." + +A woman entered, and the man turned to her quickly. + +"Carr--Kitty Carr. Did you find anything under that name?" + +"No, sir," replied the woman store detective. "We've looked all +through the records and the photographs. We don't find her. And yet +I don't think it is an alias--at least, if it is, not an alias for +any one we have any record of. I've a good eye for faces, and there +isn't one we have on file as--as good looking," she added, perhaps +with a little touch of wistfulness at her own plainness and this +beauty gone wrong. + +"This is the woman who lost the ring," put in the other woman +detective, motioning to Constance, who had accompanied her and was +standing, a silent spectator. + +The man held up the ring, which Constance had already recognized. + +"Is that yours?" he asked. + +For a moment, strangely, she hesitated. If it had been any other +ring in the world she felt sure that she would have said no. But, +then, she reflected, there was that pile of stuff. There was no use +in concealing her ownership of the ring. "Yes," she murmured. + +"One moment, please," answered the man brusquely. "I must send down +for the salesgirl who waited on you to identify you and your check-- +a mere formality, you know, but necessary to keep things straight." + +Constance sat down. + +"I suppose you don't realize it," explained the man, turning to +Constance, "but the shoplifters of the city get away with a couple +of million dollars' worth of stuff every year. It's the price we +have to pay for displaying our goods. But it's too high. They are +the department store's greatest unsolved problem. Now most of the +stores are working together for their common interests, seeing what +they can do to root them out. We all keep a sort of private rogue's +gallery of them. But we don't seem to have anything on this girl, +nor have any of the other stores who exchange photographs and +information with us anything on her." + +"Evidently, then, it is her first offense," put in Constance, +wondering at herself. Strangely, she felt more of sympathy than of +anger for the girl. + +"You mean the first time she has been caught at it," corrected the +head of the store detectives. + +"It is my weakness," sobbed the girl. "Sometimes an irresistible +impulse to steal comes over me. I just can't help it." + +She was sobbing convulsively. As she talked and listened there +seemed to come a complete breakdown. She wept as though her heart +would break. + +"Oh," exclaimed the man, "can it! Cut out the sob stuff!" + +"And yet," mused Constance half to herself, watching the girl +closely, "when one walks through the shops and sees thousands of +dollars' worth of goods lying unprotected on the counters, is it any +wonder that some poor woman or girl should be tempted and fall? +There, before her eyes and within her grasp, lies the very article +above all others which she so ardently craves. No one is looking. +The salesgirl is busy with another customer. The rest is easy. And +then the store detective steps in--and here she is--captured." + +The girl had been listening wildly through her tears. "Oh," she +sobbed, "you don't understand--none of you. I don't crave anything. +I--I just--can't help it--and then, afterwards--I--I HATE the stuff +--and I am so--afraid. I hurry home--and I--oh, what shall I do--what +shall I do?" + +Constance pitied her deeply. She looked from the wild-eyed, tear- +stained face to the miscellaneous pile of material on the table, and +the unwinking gaze of the store detectives. True, the girl had taken +a very valuable diamond ring, and from herself. But the laces, the +trinkets, all were abominably cheap, not worth risking anything for. + +Constance's attention was recalled by the man who beckoned her aside +to talk to the salesgirl who had waited on her. + +"You remember seeing this lady at the counter?" he asked of the +girl. She nodded. "And that woman in there?" he motioned. Again the +salesgirl nodded. + +"Do you remember anything else that happened?" he asked Constance as +they faced Kitty Carr and he handed Constance the ring. + +Constance looked the detective squarely in the face for a moment. + +"I have my ring. You have the other stuff," she murmured. "Besides, +there is no record against her. She doesn't even look like a +professional bad character. No--I'll not appear to press the charge +--I'll make it as hard as I can before I'll do it," she added +positively. + +The woman, who had overheard, looked her gratitude. The detectives +were preparing to argue. Constance hardly knew what she was saying, +as she hurried on before any one else could speak. + +"No," she added, "but I'll tell you what I will do. If you will let +her go I will look after her. Parole her, unofficially, with me." + +Constance drew a card from her case and handed it to the detective. +He read it carefully, and a puzzled look came over his face. "Charge +account--good customer--pays promptly," he muttered under his +breath. + +For a moment he hesitated. Then he sat down at a desk. + +"Mrs. Dunlap," he said, "I'll do it." + +He pulled a piece of printed paper from the desk, filled in a few +blanks, then turned to Kitty Carr, handing her a pen. + +"Sign here," he said brusquely. + +Constance bent over and read. It was a form of release: + +"I, Kitty Carr, residing at--East --th Street, single, age twenty- +seven years, in consideration of the sum of One Dollar, hereby admit +taking the following property... without having paid therefor and +with intent not to pay therefor, and by reason of the withdrawal of +the complaint of larceny, OF WHICH I AM GUILTY, I hereby remise, +release, and forever discharge the said Stacy Co. or its +representatives from any claims, action, or causes of action which I +may have against the Stacy Co. or its representatives or agents by +reason of the withdrawal of said charge of larceny and failure to +prosecute." + +"Signed, Kitty Carr." + +"Now, Kitty," soothed Constance, as the trembling signature was +blotted and added to a photograph which had quietly been taken, +"they are going to let you go this time--with me. Come, straighten +your hat, wipe your eyes. You must take me home with you--where we +can have a nice long talk. Remember, I am your friend." + +On the way uptown and across the city the girl managed to tell most +of her history. She came from a family of means in another city. Her +father was dead, but her mother and a brother were living. She +herself had a small annuity, sufficient to live on modestly, and had +come to New York seeking a career as an artist. Her story, her +ambitions appealed to Constance, who had been somewhat of an artist +herself and recognized even in talking to the girl that she was not +without some ability. + +Then, too, she found that Kitty actually lived, as she had said, in +a cozy little kitchenette apartment with two friends, a man and his +wife, both of whom happened to be out when they arrived. As +Constance looked about she could see clearly that there was indeed +no adequate reason why the girl should steal. + +"How do you feel?" asked Constance when the girl had sunk half +exhausted on a couch in the living room. + +"Oh, so nervous," she replied, pressing her hands to the back of her +head, "and I have a terrible headache, although it is a little +better now." + +They had talked for perhaps half an hour, as Constance soothed her, +when there was the sound of a key in the door. A young woman in +black entered. She was well-dressed, in fact elegantly dressed in a +quiet way, somewhat older than Kitty, but by no means as attractive. + +"Why--hello, Kitty," she cried, "what's the matter!" + +"Oh, Annie, I'm so unstrung," replied the girl, then recollecting +Constance, added, "let me introduce my friend, Mrs. Dunlap. This is +Mrs. Annie Grayson, who has taken me in as a lodger and is ever so +kind to me." + +Constance nodded, and the woman held out her hand frankly. + +"Very glad to meet you," she said. "My husband, Jim, is not at home, +but we are a very happy little family up here. Why, Kitty, what is +the matter?" + +The girl had turned her face down in the sofa pillows and was +sobbing again. Between sobs she blurted out the whole of the sordid +story. And as she proceeded, Annie glanced quickly from her to +Constance, for confirmation. + +Suddenly she rose and extended her hand to Constance. + +"Mrs. Dunlap," she said, "how can I ever thank you for what you have +done for Kitty? She is almost like a sister to me. You--you were-- +too good." + +There was a little catch in the woman's voice. But Constance could +not quite make out whether it was acted or wholly genuine. + +"Did she ever do anything like that before?" she asked. + +"Only once," replied Annie Grayson, "and then I gave her such a +talking to that I thought she would be able to restrain herself when +she felt that way again." + +It was growing late and Constance recollected that she had an +engagement for the evening. As she rose to go Kitty almost +overwhelmed her with embraces. + +"I'll keep in touch with Kitty," whispered Constance at the door, +"and if you will let me know when anything comes up that I may help +her in, I shall thank you." + +"Depend on me," answered Mrs. Grayson, "and I want to add my thanks +to Kitty's for what you have done. I'll try to help you." + +As she groped her way down the as yet unlighted stairs, Constance +became aware of two men talking in the hall. As she passed them she +thought she recognized one of the voices. She lowered her head, and +fortunately her thin veil in the half-light did the rest. She passed +unnoticed and reached the door of the apartment. + +As she opened it she heard the men turn and mount the stairs. +Instinctively she realized that something was wrong. One of the men +was her old enemy, Drummond, the detective. + +They had not recognized her, and as she stood for a moment with her +hand on the knob, she tried to reason it out. Then she crept back, +and climbed the stairs noiselessly. Voices inside the apartment told +her that she had not been mistaken. It was the apartment of the +Graysons and Kitty that they sought. + +The hall door was of thin, light wood, and as she stood there she +could easily hear what passed inside. + +"What--is Kitty ill?" she heard the strange man's voice inquire. + +"Yes," replied Mrs. Grayson, then her voice trailed off into an +indistinguishable whisper. + +"How are you, Kitty?" asked the man. + +"Oh, I have a splitting headache, Jim. I've had it all day. I could +just get up and--screech!" + +"I'm sorry. I hope it gets better soon." + +"Oh, I guess it will. They often go away as suddenly as they come. +You know I've had them before." + +Drummond's voice then spoke up. + +"Did you see the Trimble ad. to-night?" he asked, evidently of +Annie. "They have a lot of new diamonds from Arkansas, they say,-- +one of them is a big one, the Arkansas Queen, I believe they call +it." + +"No, I didn't see the papers," replied Annie. + +There was the rustle of a newspaper. + +"Here's a picture of it. It must be great. I've heard a good deal +about it." + +"Have you seen it?" asked Annie. + +"No, but I intend to see it." + +They had passed into the next room, and Constance, fearing to be +discovered, decided to get away before that happened. + +Early the next morning she decided to call on Kitty, but by the time +Constance arrived at the apartment it was closed, and a neighbor +informed her that the two women had gone out together about half an +hour before. + +Constance was nervous and, as she left the apartment, she did not +notice that a man who had been loitering about had quickened his +pace and overtaken her. + +"So," drawled a voice, "you're traveling with shoplifters now." + +She looked up quickly. This time she had run squarely into Drummond. +There was no concealment possible now. Her only refuge was silence. +She felt the hot tingle of indignation in her cheeks. But she said +nothing. + +"Huh!" exclaimed Drummond, walking along beside her, and adding +contemptuously, "I don't know the young one, but you know who the +other is?" + +Constance bit her lip. + +"No?" he queried. "Then I'll show you." + +He had taken from his pocket a bunch of oblong cards. Each bore, she +could see from the corner of her eye, a full face and a profile +picture of a woman, and on the back of the card was a little +writing. + +He selected one and handed it to Constance. Instantly she recognized +the face. It was Annie Grayson, with half a dozen aliases written +after the name. + +"There!" he fairly snorted. "That's the sort of people your little +friend consorts with. Why, they call Annie Grayson the queen of the +shoplifters. She has forgotten more about shoplifting than all the +rest will ever know." + +Constance longed to ask him what had taken him to the Grayson flat +the night before, but thought better of it. There was no use in +angering Drummond further. Instead, she let him think that he had +succeeded in frightening her off. + +She went back to her own apartment to wait and worry. Evidently +Drummond was pretty sure of something, or he would not have +disclosed his hand to her, even partially. She felt that she must +see Kitty before it was too late. Then the thought crossed her mind +that perhaps already it was too late. Drummond evidently was working +in some way for an alliance of the department stores outside. + +Constance had had her own ideas about Kitty. And as she waited and +watched, she tried to reason how she might carry them out if she had +a chance. + +She had just been insured, and had been very much interested in the +various tests that the woman doctor of the insurance company had +applied to her. One in particular which involved the use of a little +simple instrument that fitted over the forearm had interested her +particularly. She had talked to the doctor about it, and as she +talked an idea had occurred to her that it might have other uses +than those which the doctor made of it. She had bought one. While +she was waiting it occurred to her that perhaps it might serve her +purpose. She got the instrument out. It consisted of a little +arrangement that fitted over the forearm, and was attached by a tube +to a dial that registered in millimeters a column of mercury. Would +it really show anything, she wondered? + +There was a quick call on the telephone and she answered it, her +hand trembling, for she felt sure that it was something about the +little woman she had befriended. + +Somehow or other her voice hardened as she answered the call and +found that it was from Drummond. It would never do to betray even +nervousness before him. + +"Your friend, Miss Carr," shot out Drummond with brutal directness, +"has been caught again. She fell into something as neatly as if she +had really meant to do it. Yesterday, you know, Trimble's advertised +the new diamond, the Arkansas Queen, on exhibition. Well, it was +made of paste, anyway. But it was a perfect imitation. But that +didn't make any difference. We caught Kitty just now trying to lift +it. I'm sorry it wasn't the other one. But small fry are better than +none. We'll get her, too, yet. Besides, I find this Kitty has a +record already at Stacy's." + +He added the last words with a taunting sneer. Constance realized +suddenly the truth. The whole affair had been a plant of Drummond's! + +"You are at Trimble's?" she inquired quickly. "Well, can you wait +there just a few minutes? I'd like to see Miss Carr." + +Drummond promised. His acquiescence in itself boded no good, but +nevertheless she decided to go. As she left her apartment hurriedly +she picked up the little instrument and dropped it into her hand- +bag. + +"You see, it's no use," almost chortled Drummond as Constance +stepped off the elevator and opened the door to a little room at +Trimble's much like that which she had already seen at Stacy's. "A +shoplifter becomes habitual after twenty-five. They get to +consorting with others of their kind." + +Kitty was sitting rigidly motionless in a chair, staring straight +ahead, as Constance entered. She gave a start at the sight of a +familiar face, rose, and would almost have fainted if Constance had +not caught her. It seemed as if something had snapped in the girl's +make-up. For the first time tears came. Constance patted her hand +softly. The girl was an enigma. Was she a clever actress--one minute +hardened Miss Sophisticated, the next appealing Miss Innocence? + +"How did you--catch her?" asked Constance a moment later as she +found an opportunity to talk to Drummond alone. + +"Oh, she was trying to substitute a paste replica for the alleged +Arkansas Queen. The clerk noticed the replica in time, saw a little +spot of carbon on it--and she was shadowed and arrested just as she +was leaving the store. Yes, they found the other paste jewel on her. +She was caught with the goods." + +"Replica?" repeated Constance, thinking of the picture that had +appeared in the papers the night before. "How could she get a +replica of it?" + +"How do I know?" shrugged Drummond coldly. + +Constance looked him squarely in the eyes. + +"What about Annie Grayson?" she asked pointblank. + +"I have taken care of that," he replied harshly. "She is already +under arrest, and from what I have heard we may get something on her +now. We have a record against the Carr girl. We can use it against +her friend. We're just about taking her to the flat to identify the +Grayson woman. Would you like to come along?" he added in a spirit +of bravado. "I think you are a material witness in the Stacy case, +anyhow." + +Constance felt bitterly her defeat. Still she went with them. There +was always a chance that something might turn up. + +As they entered the door of the kitchenette loud voices told them +that some one was disputing inside. + +Drummond strode in. + +The sight of a huge pile of stuff that two strange men had drawn out +of drawers and closets and stacked on the table riveted Constance's +eyes. Only dimly she could hear that Annie Grayson was violently +threatening Drummond, who stood coolly surveying the scene. + +The stuff on the table was, in fact, quite enough to dazzle the +eyes. There were articles of every sort and description there-- +silks, laces, jewelry and trinkets, little antiques, even rare +books--everything small and portable, some of the richest and most +exquisite, others of the cheapest and most tawdry. It was a truly +remarkable collection, which the raiding detectives had brought to +light. + +As Constance took in the scene--the raiding detectives holding the +stormy Annie Grayson at bay, Drummond, cool, supercilious, Kitty +almost on the edge of collapse--she wondered how Jim Grayson had +managed to slip through the meshes of the net. + +She had read of such things. Annie Grayson was to all appearances a +"fence" for stolen goods. This was, perhaps, a school for +shoplifters. In addition to her other accomplishments, the queen of +the shoplifters was a "Fagin," educating others to the tricks of her +trade, taking advantage of their lack of facility in disposing of +the stolen goods. + +Just then the woman caught sight of Constance standing in the +doorway. + +In an instant she had broken loose and ran toward her. + +"What are you," she hissed, "one of these department store Moll +Dicks, too?" + +Quick as a flash Kitty Carr had leaped to her feet and placed +herself between them. + +"No, Annie, no. She was a real friend of mine. No--if your own +friends had been as loyal as she was to me this would never have +happened--I should never have been caught again, for I should never +have given them a chance to get it on me." + +"Little fool!" ground out Annie Grayson, raising her arm. + +"Here--here--LADIES!" interposed Drummond, protruding an arm between +the two, and winking sarcastically to the two other men. "None of +that. We shall need both of you in our business. I've no objection +to your talking; but cut out the rough stuff." + +Constance had stepped back. She was cool, cool as Drummond, although +she knew her heart was thumping like a sledge-hammer. There was +Kitty Carr, in a revulsion of feeling, her hands pressed tightly to +her head again, as if it were bursting. She was swaying as if she +would faint. + +Constance caught her gently about the waist and forced her down on +the couch where she had been lying the night before. With her back +to the others, she reached quickly into her hand-bag and pulled out +the little instrument she had hastily stuffed into it. Deftly she +fastened it to Kitty's wrist and forearm. + +She dropped down on her knees beside the poor girl, and gently +stroked her free hand, reassuring her in a low tone. + +"There, there," she soothed. "You are not well, Kitty. Perhaps, +after all, there may be something--some explanation." + +In spite of all, however, Kitty was on the verge of the wildest +hysterics. Annie Grayson sniffed contemptuously at such weakness. + +Drummond came over, an exasperating sneer on his face. As he looked +down he saw what Constance was doing, and she rose, so that all +could see now. + +"This girl," she said, speaking rapidly, "is afflicted with a +nervous physical disorder, a mania, which is uncontrollable, and +takes this outlet. It is emotional insanity--not loss of control of +the will, but perversion of the will." + +"Humph!" was Drummond's sole comment with a significant glance at +the pile of goods on the table. + +"It is not the articles themselves so much," went on Constance, +following his glance, "as it is the pleasure, the excitement, the +satisfaction--call it what you will--of taking them. A thief works +for the benefit he may derive from objects stolen after he gets +them. Here is a girl who apparently has no further use for an +article after she gets it, who forgets, perhaps hates it." + +"Oh, yes," remarked Drummond; "but why are they all so careful not +to get caught? Every one is responsible who knows the nature and +consequences of his act." + +Constance had wheeled about. + +"That is not so," she exclaimed. "Any modern alienist will tell you +that. Sometimes the chief mark of insanity may be knowing the nature +and consequences, craftily avoiding detection with an almost +superhuman cunning. No; the test is whether knowing the nature and +consequences, a person suffers under such a defect of will that in +spite of everything, in the face of everything, that person cannot +control that will." + +As she spoke, she had quickly detached the little instrument and had +placed it on Annie Grayson's arm. If it had been a Bertillon camera, +or even a finger-print outfit, Annie Grayson would probably have +fought like a tigress. But this thing was a new one. She had a +peculiar spirit of bravado. + +"Such terms as kleptomania," went on Constance, "are often regarded +as excuses framed up by the experts to cover up plain ordinary +stealing. But did you wiseacres of crime ever stop to think that +perhaps they do actually exist? + +"There are many things that distinguish such a woman as I have +described to you from a common thief. There is the insane desire to +steal--merely for stealing's sake--a morbid craving. Of course in a +sense it is stealing. But it is persistent, incorrigible, +irrational, motiveless, useless. + +"Stop and think about it a moment," she concluded, lowering her +voice and taking advantage of the very novelty of the situation she +had created. "Such diseases are the product of civilization, of +sensationalism. Naturally enough, then, woman, with her delicately +balanced nervous organization, is the first and chief offender--if +you insist on calling such a person an offender under your +antiquated methods of dealing with such cases." + +She had paused. + +"What did you say you called this thing?" asked Drummond as he +tapped the arrangement on Annie Grayson's arm. + +He was evidently not much impressed by it, yet somehow instinctively +regarded it with somewhat of the feelings of an elephant toward a +mouse. + +"That?" answered Constance, taking it off Annie Grayson's wrist +before she could do anything with it. "Why, I don't know that I said +anything about it. It is really a sphygmomanometer--the little +expert witness that never lies--one of the instruments the insurance +companies use now to register blood pressure and discover certain +diseases. It occurred to me that it might be put to other and +equally practical uses. For no one can conceal the emotions from +this instrument, not even a person of cast-iron nerves." + +She had placed it on Drummond's arm. He appeared fascinated. + +"See how it works?" she went on. "You see one hundred and twenty- +five millimeters is the normal pressure. Kitty Carr is absolutely +abnormal. I do not know, but I think that she suffers from +periodical attacks of vertigo. Almost all kleptomaniacs do. During +an attack they are utterly irresponsible." + +Drummond was looking at the thing carefully. Constance turned to +Annie Grayson. + +"Where's your husband?" she asked offhand. + +"Oh, he disappeared as soon as these department store dicks showed +up," she replied bitterly. She had been watching Constance narrowly, +quite nonplussed, and unable to make anything out of what was going +on. + +Constance looked at Drummond inquiringly. + +He shook his head slowly. "I'm afraid we'll never catch him," he +said. "He got the jump on us--although we have our lines out for +him, too." + +She had glanced down quickly at the little innocent-looking but +telltale sphygmomanometer. + +"You lie!" she exclaimed suddenly, with all the vigor of a man. + +She was pointing at the quivering little needle which registered a +sudden, access of emotion totally concealed by the sang-froid of +Drummond's well-schooled exterior. + +She wrenched the thing off his wrist and dropped it into her bag. A +moment later she stood by the open window facing the street, a +bright little police whistle gleaming in her hand, ready for its +shrill alarm if any move were made to cut short what she had to say. + +She was speaking rapidly now. + +"You see, I've had it on all of you, one after another, and each has +told me your story, just enough of it for me to piece it together. +Kitty is suffering from a form of vertigo, an insanity, kleptomania, +the real thing. As for you, Mr. Drummond, you were in league with +the alleged husband--your own stool pigeon--to catch Annie Grayson." + +Drummond moved. So did the whistle. He stopped. + +"But she was too clever for you all. She was not caught, even by a +man who lived with her as her own husband. For she was not +operating." + +Annie Grayson moved as if to face out her accusers at this sudden +turn of fortune. + +"One moment, Annie," cut in Constance. + +"And yet, you are the real shoplifter, after all. You fell into the +trap which Drummond laid for you. I take pleasure, Mr. Drummond, in +presenting you with better evidence than even your own stool pigeon +could possibly have given you under the circumstances." + +She paused. + +"For myself," she concluded, "I claim Kitty Carr. I claim the right +to take her, to have her treated for her--her disease. I claim it +because the real shoplifter, the queen of the shoplifters, Annie +Grayson, has worked out a brand-new scheme, taking up a true +kleptomaniac and using her insanity to carry out the stealings which +she suggested--and safely, to this point, has profited by!" + + + + +CHAPTER X + +THE BLACKMAILERS + + +"They're late this afternoon." + +"Yes. I think they might be on time. I wish they had made the +appointment in a quieter place." + +"What do you care, Anita? Probably somebody else is doing the same +thing somewhere else. What's sauce for the gander is sauce for the +goose." + +"I know he has treated me like a dog, Alice, but--" + +There was just a trace of a catch in the voice of the second woman +as she broke off the remark and left it unfinished. + +Constance Dunlap had caught the words unintentionally above the hum +of conversation and the snatches of tuneful music wafted from the +large dining-room where day was being turned into night. + +She had dropped into the fashionable new Vanderveer Hotel, not to +meet any one, but because she liked to watch the people in "Peacock +Alley," as the corridor of the hotel was often popularly called. + +Somehow, as she sat inconspicuously in a deep chair in an angle, she +felt that very few of the gaily chatting couples or of the waiting +men and women about her were quite what they seemed on the surface. + +The conversation from around the angle confirmed her opinion. Here, +apparently at least, were two young married women with a grievance, +and it was not for those against whom they had the grievance, real +or imagined, that they were waiting so anxiously. + +Constance leaned forward to see them better. The woman nearest her +was a trifle the elder of the two, a very attractive-looking woman, +tastefully gowned and carefully groomed. The younger, who had been +the first speaker, was, perhaps, the more dashing. Certainly she +appeared to be the more sophisticated. And as Constance caught her +eye she involuntarily thought of the old proverb, "Never trust a man +who doesn't look you in the eye or a woman who does." + +Two men sauntered down the long corridor, on the way from a visit to +the bar. As they caught sight of the two ladies, there was a smile +of recognition, an exchange of remarks between each pair, and the +men hurried in the direction of the corner. + +They greeted the two ladies in low, bantering, familiar terms--"Mr. +Smith," "Mrs. Jones," "Mr. White" and "Mrs. Brown." + +"You got my card!" asked one of the men of the woman nearest +Constance. "Sorry we're late, but a business friend ran into us as +we were coming in and I had to shunt him off in the other +direction." + +He nodded toward the opposite end of the corridor with a laugh. + +"You've been bad boys," pouted the other woman, "but we forgive you +--this time." + +"Perhaps we may hope to be reinstated after a little--er--tea--and a +dance?" suggested the other man. + +The four were all moving in the direction of the dining-room and the +gay music. + +They had disappeared in the crush about the door before Constance +noticed that the woman who had been sitting nearest her had dropped +an envelope. She picked it up. It was on the stationery of another +fashionable hotel, evidently written by one of those who lounge in, +and on the strength of a small bill in the cafe use the writing +room. In a man's hand was the name, "Mrs. Anita Douglas, The +Melcombe Apartments, City" + +Before she realized it, Constance had pulled out the card inside and +glanced at it. It read: + + MY DEAREST A----: + + Can you meet us in the Vanderveer to-morrow afternoon at four? + Bring along your little friend. + + With many * * * * + + Yours, + + ????? + +Mechanically Constance crumpled the card and the envelope in her +hand and held them as she regarded the passing throng, intending to +throw them away when she passed a scrap basket on the way out. + +Still, it was a fascinating scene, this of the comedy and tragedy of +human weaknesses, and she stayed much longer than she had intended. +One by one the people had either gone to dinner in the main dining- +room or elsewhere and Constance had nearly decided on going, too. + +She was looking down the corridor toward the desk when she saw +something that caused her to change her mind. There was the young +lady who had been talking so flippantly to the woman with a +grievance, and she was now talking, of all people, to Drummond! + +Constance shrank back into her wicker chair in the protecting angle. +What did it mean? If Drummond had anything to do with it, even +remotely, it boded no good, at least. + +Suddenly a possible explanation crossed her mind. Was it a side- +light upon that peculiar industry of divorce as practiced in no +place except New York? + +It was not only that Constance longed for, lived by excitement. She +felt a sense of curiosity as to what the detective was up to now. +And, somehow, she felt a duty in the case. She determined to return +the envelope and card, and meet the woman. And the more she thought +of it the more imperative became the idea. + +So it came about that the following forenoon Constance sought out +the Melcombe Apartments, a huge stone and brick affair on a street +which the uptown trend of population was transforming. + +Anita Douglas, she had already found out by an inquiry or two, was +the wife of a well-known business man. Yet, as she entered the +little apartment, she noticed that there was no evidence about it of +a man's presence. + +Mrs. Douglas greeted her unexpected visitor with an inquiring look. + +"I was passing through the corridor of the Vanderveer yesterday +afternoon," began Constance, leaping into the middle of her errand, +"and I happened to see this envelope lying on the carpet. I thought +first of destroying it; then that perhaps you would rather destroy +it yourself." + +Mrs. Douglas almost pounced on the letter as Constance handed it to +her. "Thank you," she exclaimed. "It was very thoughtful of you." + +For a moment or two they chatted of inconsequential things. + +"Who was your friend?" asked Constance at length. + +The woman caught her breath and flushed a bit, evidently wondering +just how much Constance really knew. + +"The young lady," added Constance, who had put the question in this +form purposely. + +"Why do you ask?" Mrs. Douglas inquired in a tone that betrayed +considerable relief. + +"Because I can tell you something of her, I think." + +"A friend of mine--a Mrs. Murray. Why?" + +"Aren't you just a little bit afraid of--er--friends that you may +chance to make in the city?" queried Constance. + +"Afraid?" repeated the other. + +"Yes," said Constance, coming gradually to the point. "You know +there are so many detectives about." + +Mrs. Douglas laughed half nervously. "Oh, I've been shadowed," she +replied confidently. "I know how to shake them off. If you can't do +anything else, you can always take a taxi. Besides, I think I can +uncover almost any shadow. All you have to do, if you think you're +being shadowed, is to turn a corner and stop. That uncovers the +shadow as soon as he comes up to the corner, and after that he is +useless. You know him." + +"That's all right," nodded Constance; "but you don't know these +crooked detectives nowadays as I do. They can fake up evidence to +order. That is their business, you know, to manufacture it. You may +uncover a six-dollar operative, Mrs. Douglas, but are you the equal +of a twenty-dollar-a-day investigator?" + +The woman looked genuinely scared. Evidently Constance knew some +things she didn't know, at least about detectives. + +"You--you don't think there is anything like that, do you?" she +asked anxiously. + +"Well," replied Constance slowly to impress her, "I saw your friend, +Mrs. Murray, after you had left the Vanderveer, talking to a +detective whom I have every reason to fear as one of the most +unscrupulous in the game." + +"Oh, that is impossible!" persisted Mrs. Douglas. + +"Not a bit of it," pursued Constance. "Think it over for a moment. +Who would be the last person a man or woman would suspect of being a +detective? Why, just such an attractive young woman, of course. You +see, it is just this way. They reason that if they can only get +acquainted with people the rest is easy. For, people, under the +right circumstances, will tell everything they know." + +The woman was staring at Constance. + +"For example," urged Constance, "I'm talking to you now as if I had +known you for years. Why, Mrs. Douglas, men tell their most +important business secrets to chance luncheon and dinner companions +whom they think have no direct or indirect interest in them. Over +tea-tables women tell their most intimate personal affairs. In fact, +all you have to do is to keep your ears open." + +Mrs. Douglas had risen and was nervously watching Constance, who saw +that she had made an impression and that all that was necessary was +to follow it up. + +"Now, for instance," added Constance quickly, "you say she is a +friend of yours. How did you meet her?" + +Mrs. Douglas did not raise her eyes to Constance's now. Yet she +seemed to feel that Constance was different from other chance +acquaintances, to feel a sort of confidence, and to want to meet +frankness with frankness. + +"One day I was with a friend of mine at the new Palais de Maxixe," +she answered in a low voice as if making a confession. "A woman in +the dressing-room borrowed a cigarette. You know they often do that. +We got talking, and it seemed that we had much in common in our +lives. Before I went back to him--" + +She bit her lip. She had evidently not intended to admit that she +knew any other men. Constance, however, appeared not to notice the +slip. + +"I had arranged to meet her at luncheon the next day," she continued +hastily. "We have been friends ever since." + +"You went to luncheon with her, and--" Constance prompted. + +"Oh, she told me her story. It was very much like my own--a husband +who was a perfect bear, and then gossip about him that so many +people, besides his own wife, seemed to know, and--" + +Constance shook her head. "Really," she observed thoughtfully, "it's +a wonder to me how any one stays married these days. Somebody is +always mixing in, getting one or the other so wrought up that they +get to thinking there is no possibility of happiness. That's where +the crook detective comes in." + +Anita Douglas, confidence established now, poured out her story +unreservedly, as there was little reason why she should not, a story +of the refined brutality and neglect and inhumanity of her husband. + +She told of her own first suspicions of him, of a girl who had been +his stenographer, a Miss Helen Brett. + +But he was careful. There had never been any direct, positive +evidence against him. Still, there was enough to warrant a +separation and the payment to her of an allowance. + +They had lived, she said, in a pretty little house in the suburb of +Glenclair, near New York. Now that they were separated, she had +taken a little kitchenette apartment at the new Melcombe. Her +husband was living in the house, she believed, when he was not in +the city at his club, "or elsewhere," she added bitterly. + +"But," she confided as she finished, "it is very lonely here in a +big city all alone." + +"I know it is," agreed Constance sympathetically as they parted. "I, +too, am often very lonely. Call on me, especially if you find +anything crooked going on. Call on me, anyhow. I shall be glad to +see you any time." + +The words, "anything crooked going on," rang in Mrs. Douglas's ears +long after the elevator door had clanged shut and her new friend had +gone. She was visibly perturbed. And the more she thought about it +the more perturbed she became. + +She had carried on a mild, then an ardent, flirtation with the man +who had introduced himself as "Mr. White"--really Lynn Munro. But +she relied on her woman's instinct in her judgment of him. No, she +felt sure that he could not be other than she thought. But as for +Alice Murray and her friend whom she had met at the Palais de +Maxixe--well, she was forced to admit that she did not know, that +Constance's warning might, after all, be true. + +Munro had had to run out of town for a few days on a business trip. +That she knew, for it had been the reason why he had wanted to see +her before he went. + +He had, in fact, spent the evening in her company, after the other +couple had excused themselves on one pretext or another. + +She called up Alice Murray at the number she had given. She was not +there. In fact, no one seemed to know when she would be there. It +was strange, because always before it had seemed possible to get her +at any moment, almost instantly. That, too, worried her. + +She tried to get the thing out of her mind, but she could not. She +had a sort of foreboding that her new friend had not spoken without +reason, a feeling of insecurity as though something were impending +over her. + +The crisis came sooner than even Constance had anticipated when she +called on Anita Douglas. It was early in the afternoon, while Anita +was still brooding, that a strange man called on her. Instinctively +she seemed to divine that he was a detective. He, at least, had the +look. + +"My name," he introduced himself, "is Drummond." + +Drummond paused and glanced about as if to make sure that he could +by no possibility be overheard. + +"I have called," he continued, "on a rather delicate matter." + +He paused for effect, then went on: + +"Some time ago I was employed by Mr. Douglas to--er--to watch his +wife." + +He was watching her narrowly to see what effect his sudden remark +would have on her. She was speechless. + +"Since then," he added quietly, "I have watched, I have seen--what I +have seen." + +Drummond had faced her. Somehow the effect of his words was more +potent on her than if he had not accused her by indirection. Still +she said nothing. + +"I can suppress it," he insinuated. + +Her heart was going like a trip-hammer. + +"But it will cost something to do that." + +Here was a straw--she caught at it eagerly. + +"Cost something?" she repeated, facing him. "How much?" + +Drummond never took his eyes from her anxious face. + +"I was to get a fee of one thousand dollars if I obtained some +letters that had passed from her to a man named Lynn Munro. He has +gone out of town--has left his rooms unguarded. I have the letters." + +She felt a sinking sensation. One thousand dollars! + +Suddenly the truth of the situation flashed over her. He had come +with an offer that set her bidding against her husband for the +letters. And in a case of dollars her husband would win. One +thousand dollars! It was blackmail. + +"I--I can't afford it," she pleaded weakly. "Can't you make it-- +less?" + +Drummond shook his head. Already he had learned what he had come to +learn. She did not have the money. + +"No," he replied positively, adding, by way of inserting the knife +and turning it around, "I shall have to turn the letters over to him +to-day." + +She drew herself up. At least she could fight back. + +"But you can't prove anything," she cut in quickly. + +"Can't I?" he returned. "The letters don't speak for themselves, do +they? You don't realize that this interview helps to prove it, do +you? An innocent woman wouldn't have considered my offer, much less +plead with me. Bah! can't prove anything. Why, it's all in plain +black and white!" + +Drummond flicked the ashes from his cigar into the fireplace as he +rose to go. At the door he turned for one parting shot. + +"I have all the evidence I need," he concluded. "I've got the goods +on you. To-night it will be locked in his safe--documentary +evidence. If you should change your mind--you can reach me at his +office. Call under an assumed name--Mrs. Green, perhaps." + +He was gone, with a mocking smile at the parting shot. + +Anita Douglas saw it all now. Things had not been going fast enough +to suit her new friend, Mrs. Murray. So, after a time, she had begun +to tell of her own escapades and to try to get Anita to admit that +she had had similar adventures. It was a favorite device of +detectives, working under the new psychological method by use of the +law of suggestion. + +She had introduced herself, had found out about Lynn Munro, and in +some way, after he had left town, had got the letters. Was he in the +plot, too? She could not believe it. + +Suddenly the thought came to her that the blackmailers might give +her husband material that would look very black if a suit for +divorce came up in court. + +What if he were able to cut off her little allowance? She trembled +at the thought of being thus cast adrift on the world. + +Anita Douglas did not know which way to turn. In her dilemma she +thought only of Constance. She hurried to her. + +"It was as you said, a frame-up," she blurted out, as she entered +Constance's apartment, then in the same breath added, "That Mrs. +Murray was just a stool pigeon." + +Constance received her sympathetically. She had expected such a +visit, though not so soon. + +"Just how much do they--know?" she asked pointedly. + +Anita had pressed her hands together nervously. "Really--I confess," +she murmured, "indiscretions--yes; misconduct--no!" + +She spoke the last words defiantly. Constance listened eagerly, +though she did not betray it. + +She had found out that it was a curious twist in feminine psychology +that the lie under such circumstances was a virtue, that it showed +that there was hope for such a woman. Admission of the truth, even +to a friend, would have shown that the woman was hopelessly lost. +Lie or not, Constance felt in her inmost heart that she approved of +it. + +"Still, it looks badly," she remarked. + +"Perhaps it does--on the surface," persisted Anita. + +"You poor dear creature," soothed Constance. "I don't say I blame +you for your--indiscreet friendships. You are more sinned against +than sinning." + +Sympathy had its effect. Anita was now sobbing softly, as Constance +stole her arm about her waist. + +"The next question," she reasoned, considering aloud, "is, of +course, what to do? If it was just one of these blackmailing +detective cases it would be common, but still very hard to deal +with. There's a lot of such blackmailing going on in New York. Next +to business and political cases, I suppose, it is the private +detective's most important graft. Nearly everybody has a past-- +although few are willing to admit it. The graft lies in the fact +that people talk so much, are so indiscreet, take such reckless +chances. It's a wonder, really, that there isn't more of it." + +"Yet there is the--evidence, as he called it--my letters to Lynn-- +and the reports that that woman must have made of our--our +conversations," groaned Anita. "How they may distort it all!" + +Constance was thinking rapidly. + +"It is now after four o'clock," she said finally, looking at her +wrist watch. "You say it was not half an hour ago that Drummond +called on you. He must be downtown about now. Your husband will +hardly have a chance more than to glance over the papers this +afternoon." + +Suddenly an idea seemed to occur to her. "What do you suppose he +will do with them?" she asked. + +Mrs. Douglas looked up through her tears, calmer. "He is very +methodical," she answered slowly. "If I know him rightly, I think he +will probably go out to Glenclair with them to-night, to look them +over." + +"Where will he keep them?" broke in Constance suddenly. + +"He has a little safe in the library out there where he keeps all +such personal papers. I shouldn't be surprised if he looked them +over and locked them up there until he intends to use them at least +until morning." + +"I have a plan," exclaimed Constance excitedly. "Are you game?" + +Anita Douglas looked at her friend squarely. In her face Constance +read the desperation of a woman battling for life and honor. + +"Yes," replied Anita in a low, tense tone, "for anything." + +"Then meet me after dinner in the Terminal. We'll go out to +Glenclair." + +The two looked deeply into each other's eyes. Nothing was said, but +what each read was a sufficient answer to a host of unspoken +questions. + +A moment after Mrs. Douglas had gone, Constance opened a cabinet. +From the false back of a drawer she took two little vials of powder +and a small bottle with a sponge. + +Then she added a long steel bar, with a peculiar turn at the end, to +her paraphernalia for the trip. + +Nothing further occurred until they met at the Terminal, or, in +fact, on the journey out. On most of the ride Mrs. Douglas kept her +face averted, looking out of the window into the blackness of the +night. Perhaps she was thinking of other journeys out to Glenclair, +perhaps she was afraid of meeting the curious gaze of any late +sojourners who might suffer from acute suburban curiosity. + +Quietly the two women alighted and quickly made their way from the +station up the main street, then diverged to a darker and less +frequented avenue. + +"There's the house," pointed out Mrs. Douglas, halting Constance, +with a little bitter exclamation. + +Evidently she had reasoned well. He had gone out there early and +there was a light in the library. + +"He isn't much of a reader," whispered Mrs. Douglas. "Oh--it's clear +to me that he has the stuff all right. He's devouring it, gloating +over it." + +The sound of footsteps approaching down the paved walk came to them. +Loitering on the streets of a suburban town always occasions +suspicion, and instinctively Constance drew Anita with her into the +shadow of a hedge that set off the house from that next to it. + +There was no fence cutting it off from the sidewalk, but at the +corner of the plot a large bush stood. In this bower they were +perfectly hidden in the shadow. + +Hour after hour they waited, watching that light in the library, +speculating what it was he was reading, while Anita, half afraid to +talk, wondered what it was that Constance had in mind. + +Finally the light in the library winked out and the house was in +darkness. + +Midnight passed, and with it the last belated suburbanite. + +At last, when the moon had disappeared under some clouds, Constance +pulled Anita gently along up the lawn. + +There was no sign of life about the house, yet Constance observed +all the caution she would have if it had been well guarded. + +Quickly they advanced over the open space to the cottage, +approaching in the shadow as much as possible. + +Tiptoeing over the porch, Constance tried a window, the window +through which had shown the tantalizing light. It was fastened. + +Without hesitation she pulled out the long steel bar with the +twisted head, and began to insert the sharp end between the sashes. + +"Aren't--you--afraid?" chattered her companion. + +"No," she whispered, not looking up from her work. "You know, most +persons don't know enough about jimmies. Against them an ordinary +door lock or window catch is no protection at all. Why, with this +jimmy, even a woman can exert a pressure of a ton or so. Not one +catch in a thousand can stand it--certainly not this one." + +Constance continued to work, muffling the lever as much as possible +in a piece of felt. + +At last a quick wrench and the catch yielded. + +The only thing wrong about it was the noise. There had been no wind, +no passing trolley, nothing to conceal it. + +They shrank back into the shadow, and waited breathless. Had it been +heard? Would a window open presently and an alarm be sounded? + +There was not a sound, save the rustle of the leaves in the night +wind. + +A few minutes later Constance carefully raised the lower sash and +they stepped softly into the house--once the house over which Anita +Douglas had been mistress. + +Cautiously Constance pressed the button on a little pocket storage- +battery lamp and flashed it slowly about the room. + +All was quiet in the library. The library table was disordered, as +if some one in great stress of mind had been working at it. Anita +wondered what had been the grim thoughts of the man as he pondered +on the mass of stuff, the tissue of falsehoods that the blackmailing +detective had handed to him at such great cost. + +At last the cone of light rested on a little safe at the opposite +end. + +"There it is," whispered Anita, pointing, half afraid even of the +soft tones of her own voice. + +Constance had pulled down all the shades quietly, and drew the +curtains tightly between the room and the foyer. + +On the top of the safe she was pouring some of the powder in a neat +pile from one of the vials. + +"What is that?" asked Anita, bending close to her ear. + +"Some powdered metallic aluminum mixed with oxide of iron," +whispered Constance in return. "I read of this thing in a scientific +paper the other day, and I determined to get some of it. But I +didn't think I'd ever really have occasion to use it." + +She added some powder from the other vial. + +"And that?" + +"Magnesium powder." + +Constance had lighted a match. + +"Stand back, Anita," she whispered, "back, Anita," she whispered, +"back in the farthest corner of the room, and keep quiet. Shut your +eyes--turn your face away!" + +There was a flash, blinding, then a steady, brilliant burst of +noiseless, penetrating, burning flame. + +Anita had expected an explosion. Instead she found that her eyes +hurt. She had not closed them tightly quick enough. + +Still, Constance's warning had been sufficient to prevent any damage +to the sight, and she slowly recovered. + +Actually, the burning powder seemed to be sinking into the very +steel of the safe itself, as if it had been mere ice! + +Was it an optical illusion, a freak of her sight? + +"Wh-what is it!" she whispered in awe, drawing closer to her friend. + +"Thermit," whispered Constance in reply, as the two watched the +glowing mass fascinated, "an invention of a German chemist named +Goldschmidt. It will burn a hole right through steel--at a terrific +temperature, three thousand or more degrees." + +The almost burned out mass seemed to fall into the safe as if it had +been a wooden box instead of chrome steel. + +They waited a moment, still blinking, to regain control over their +eyes in spite of the care they had used to shield them. + +Then they tiptoed across the floor. + +In the top of the safe yawned a hole large enough to stick one's +hand and arm through! + +Constance reached into the safe and drew out something on which she +flashed the pocket light. + +There was bundle after bundle of checks, the personal checks of a +methodical business man, carefully preserved. + +Hastily she looked them over. All seemed to be perfectly straight-- +payments to tradesmen, to real estate agents, payments of all sorts, +all carefully labeled. + +"Oh, he'd never let anything like that lie around," remarked Anita, +as she began to comprehend what Constance was after. + +Constance was scrutinizing some of the checks more carefully than +others. Suddenly she held one up to the light. Apparently it was in +payment of legal services. + +Quickly she took the little bottle of brownish fluid which she had +brought with the sponge. + +She dipped the sponge in it lightly and brushed it over the check. +Then she leaned forward breathlessly. + +"Eradicating ink is simply a bleaching process," she remarked, +"which leaves the iron of the ink as a white oxide instead of a +black oxide. The proper reagent will restore the original color-- +partially and at least for a time. Ah--yes--it is as I thought. +There have been erasures in these checks. Other names have been +written in on some of them in place of those that were originally +there. The sulphide of ammonia ought to bring out anything that is +hidden here." + +There, faintly, was the original writing. It read, "Pay to the order +of--Helen Brett--" + +Mrs. Douglas with difficulty restrained an exclamation of anger and +hatred at the mere sight of the name of the other woman. + +"He was careful," remarked Constance. "Reckless at first in giving +checks-he has tried to cover it up. He didn't want to destroy them, +yet he couldn't have such evidence about. So he must have altered +the name on the canceled vouchers after they were returned to him +paid by the bank. Very clever--very." + +Constance reached into the safe again. There were some personal and +some business letters, some old check books, some silver and gold +trinkets and table silver. + +She gave a low exclamation. She had found a packet of letters and a +sheaf of typewritten flimsy tissue paper pages. + +Mrs. Douglas uttered a little cry, quickly suppressed. The letters +were those in her own handwriting addressed to Lynn Munro. + +"Here are Drummond's reports, too," Constance added. + +She looked them hastily over. The damning facts had been massed in a +way that must inevitably have prejudiced any case for the defense +that Mrs. Douglas might set up. + +"There--there's all the evidence against you," whispered Constance +hoarsely, handing it over to Anita. "It's all yours again. Destroy +it" + +In her eagerness, with trembling hands, Anita had torn up the whole +mass of incriminating papers and had cast them into the fireplace. +She was just about to strike a match. + +Suddenly there came a deep voice from the stairs. + +"Well--what's all this?" + +Anita dropped the match from her nerveless hands. Constance felt an +arm grasp her tightly. For a moment a chill ran over her at being +caught in the nefarious work of breaking and entering a dwelling- +house at night. The hand was Anita's, but the voice was that of a +man. + +Lights flashed all over the house at once, from a sort of electric +light system that could be instantly lighted and would act as a +"burglar expeller." + +It was Douglas himself. He was staring angrily at his wife and the +stranger with her. + +"Well!" he demanded with cold sarcasm. "Why this--this burglary?" + +Before he could quite take in the situation, with a quick motion, +Constance struck a match and touched it to the papers in the +fireplace. + +As they blazed up he caught sight of what they were and almost +leaped across the floor. + +Constance laid her hand on his arm. "One moment, Mr. Douglas," she +said quietly. "Look at that!" + +"Who--who the devil are you?" he gasped. "What's all this?" + +"I think," remarked Constance slowly and quietly, "that your wife is +now in a position to prove that you--well, don't come into court +with clean hands, if you attempt to do so. Besides, you know, the +courts rather frown on detectives that practice collusion and +conspiracy and frame up evidence, to say nothing of trying to +blackmail the victims. I thought perhaps you'd prefer not to say +anything about this--er--visit to-night--after you saw that." + +Constance had quietly laid one of the erased checks on the library +table. Again she dipped the sponge into the brownish liquid. Again +the magic touch revealed the telltale name. With her finger she was +pointing to the faintly legible "Helen Brett" on the check as the +sulphide had brought it out. + +Douglas stared-dazed. + +He rubbed his eyes and stared again as the last of the flickering +fire died away. In an instant he realized that it was not a dream, +that it was all a fact. + +He looked from one to the other of the women. + +He was checkmated. + +Constance ostentatiously folded up the erased vouchers. + +"I--I shall not--make any--contest," Douglas managed to gasp +huskily. + + + + +CHAPTER XI + +THE DOPE FIENDS + + +"I have a terrible headache," remarked Constance Dunlap to her +friend, Adele Gordon, the petite cabaret singer and dancer of the +Mayfair, who had dropped in to see her one afternoon. + +"You poor, dear creature," soothed Adele. "Why don't you go to see +Dr. Price? He has cured me. He's splendid--splendid." + +Constance hesitated. Dr. Moreland Price was a well-known physician. +All day and even at night, she knew, automobiles and cabs rolled up +to his door and their occupants were, for the most part, stylishly +gowned women. + +"Oh, come on," urged Adele. "He doesn't charge as highly as people +seem to think. Besides, I'll go with you and introduce you, and +he'll charge only as he does the rest of us in the profession." + +Constance's head throbbed frantically. She felt that she must have +some relief soon. "All right," she agreed, "I'll go with you, and +thank you, Adele." + +Dr. Price's office was on the first floor of the fashionable +Recherche Apartments, and, as she expected, Constance noted a line +of motor cars before it. + +They entered and were admitted to a richly furnished room, in +mahogany and expensive Persian rugs, where a number of patients +waited. One after another an attendant summoned them noiselessly and +politely to see the doctor, until at last the turn of Constance and +Adele came. + +Dr. Price was a youngish, middle-aged man, tall, with a sallow +countenance and a self-confident, polished manner which went a long +way in reassuring the patients, most of whom were ladies. + +As they entered the doctor's sanctum behind the folding doors, Adele +seemed to be on very good terms indeed with him. + +They seated themselves in the deep leather chairs beside Dr. Price's +desk, and he inclined his head to listen to the story of their +ailments. + +"Doctor," began Constance's introducer, "I've brought my friend, +Mrs. Dunlap, who is suffering from one of those awful headaches. I +thought perhaps you could give her some of that medicine that has +done me so much good." + +The doctor bowed without saying anything and shifted his eyes from +Adele to Constance. "Just what seems to be the difficulty?" he +inquired. + +Constance told him how she felt, of her general lassitude and the +big, throbbing veins in her temples. + +"Ah--a woman's headaches!" he smiled, adding, "Nothing serious, +however, in this case, as far as I can see. We can fix this one all +right, I think." + +He wrote out a prescription quickly and handed it to Constance. + +"Of course," he added, as he pocketed his fee, "it makes no +difference to me personally, but I would advise that you have it +filled at Muller's--Miss Gordon knows the place. I think Muller's +drugs are perhaps fresher than those of most druggists, and that +makes a great deal of difference." + +He had risen and was politely and suavely bowing them out of another +door, at the same time by pressing a button signifying to his +attendant to admit the next patient. + +Constance had preceded Adele, and, as she passed through the other +door, she overheard the doctor whisper to her friend, "I'm going to +stop for you to-night to take a ride. I have something important I +want to say to you." + +She did not catch Adele's answer, but as they left the marble and +onyx, brass-grilled entrance, Adele remarked: "That's his car--over +there. Oh, but he is a reckless driver--dashes along pell-mell--but +always seems to have his eye out for everything--never seems to be +arrested, never in an accident." + +Constance turned in the direction of the car and was startled to see +the familiar face of Drummond across the street dodging behind it. +What was it now, she wondered--a divorce case, a scandal--what? + +The medicine was made up into little powders, to be taken until they +gave relief, and Constance folded the paper of one, poured it on the +back of her tongue and swallowed a glass of water afterward. + +Her head continued to throb, but she felt a sense of well-being that +she had not before. Adele urged her to take another, and Constance +did so. + +The second powder increased the effect of the first marvelously. But +Constance noticed that she now began to feel queer. She was not used +to taking medicine. For a moment she felt that she was above, beyond +the reach of ordinary rules and laws. She could have done any sort +of physical task, she felt, no matter how difficult. She was amazed +at herself, as compared to what she had been only a few moments +before. + +"Another one?" asked Adele finally. + +Constance was by this time genuinely alarmed at the sudden unwonted +effect on herself. "N-no," she replied dubiously, "I don't think I +want to take any more, just yet." + +"Not another?" asked Adele in surprise. "I wish they would affect me +that way. Sometimes I have to take the whole dozen before they have +any effect." + +They chatted for a few minutes, and finally Adele rose. + +"Well," she remarked with a nervous twitching of her body, as if she +were eager to be doing something, "I really must be going. I can't +say I feel any too well myself." + +"I think I'll take a walk with you," answered Constance, who did not +like the continued effect of the two powders. "I feel the need of +exercise--and air." + +Adele hesitated, but Constance already had her hat on. She had seen +Drummond watching Dr. Price's door, and it interested her to know +whether he could possibly have been following Adele or some one +else. + +As they walked along Adele quickened her pace, until they came again +to the drug store. + +"I believe I'll go in and get something," she remarked, pausing. + +For the first time in several minutes Constance looked at the face +of her friend. She was amazed to discover that Adele looked as if +she had had a spell of sickness. Her eyes were large and glassy, her +skin cold and sweaty, and she looked positively pallid and thin. + +As they entered the store Muller, the druggist, bowed again and +looked at Adele a moment as she leaned over the counter and +whispered something to him. Without a word he went into the arcana +behind the partition that cuts off the mysteries of the prescription +room in every drug store from the front of the store. + +When Muller returned he handed her a packet, for which she paid and +which she dropped quickly into her pocketbook, hugging the +pocketbook close to herself. + +Adele turned and was about to hurry from the store with Constance. +"Oh, excuse me," she said suddenly as if she had just recollected +something, "I promised a friend of mine I'd telephone this +afternoon, and I have forgotten to do it. I see a pay station here." +Constance waited. + +Adele returned much quicker than one would have expected she could +call up a number, but Constance thought nothing of it at the time. +She did notice, however, that as her friend emerged from the booth a +most marvelous change had taken place in her. Her step was firm, her +eye clear, her hand steady. Whatever it was, reasoned Constance, it +could not have been serious to have disappeared so quickly. + +It was with some curiosity as to just what she might expect that +Constance went around to the famous cabaret that night. The Mayfair +occupied two floors of what had been a wide brownstone house before +business and pleasure had crowded the residence district further and +further uptown. It was a very well-known bohemian rendezvous, where +under-, demi-and upper-world rubbed elbows without friction and +seemed to enjoy the novelty and be willing to pay for it. + +Adele, who was one of the performers, had not arrived yet, but +Constance, who had come with her mind still full of the two +unexpected encounters with Drummond, was startled to see him here +again. Fortunately he did not see her, and she slipped unobserved +into an angle near the window overlooking the street. + +Drummond had been engrossed in watching some one already there, and +Constance made the best use she could of her eyes to determine who +it was. The outdoor walk and a good dinner had checked her headache, +and now the excitement of the chase of something, she knew not what, +completed the cure. + +It was not long before she discovered that Drummond was watching +intently, without seeming to do so, a nervous-looking fellow whose +general washed-out appearance of face was especially unattractive +for some reason or other. He was very thin, very pale, and very +stary about the eyes. Then, too, it seemed as if the bone in his +nose was going, due perhaps to the shrinkage of the blood vessels +from some cause. + +Constance noticed a couple of girls whom she had seen Adele speak to +on several other occasions approaching the young man. + +There came an opportune lull in the music and from around the corner +of her protecting angle Constance could just catch the greeting of +one of the girls, "Hello, Sleighbells! Got any snow!" + +It was a remark that seemed particularly malapropos to the sultry +weather, and Constance half expected a burst of laughter at the +unexpected sally. + +Instead, she was surprised to hear the young man reply in a very +serious and matter-of-fact manner, "Sure. Got any money, May?" + +She craned her neck, carefully avoiding coming into Drummond's line +of vision, and as she did so she saw two silver quarters gleam +momentarily from hand to hand, and the young man passed each girl +stealthily a small white paper packet. + +Others came to him, both men and women. It seemed to be an +established thing, and Constance noted that Drummond watched it all +covertly. + +"Who is that?" asked Constance of the waiter who had served her +sometimes when she had been with Adele, and knew her. + +"Why, they call him Sleighbells Charley," he replied, "a coke +fiend." + +"Which means a cocaine fiend, I suppose!" she queried. + +"Yes. He's a lobbygow for the grapevine system they have now of +selling the dope in spite of this new law." + +"Where does he get the stuff!" she asked. + +The waiter shrugged his shoulders. "Nobody knows, I guess. I don't. +But he gets it in spite of the law and peddles it. Oh, it's all +adulterated--with some white stuff, I don't know what, and the price +they charge is outrageous. They must make an ounce retail at five or +six times the cost. Oh, you can bet that some one who is at the top +is making a pile of money out of that graft, all right." + +He said it not with any air of righteous indignation, but with a +certain envy. + +Constance was thinking the thing over in her mind. Where did the +"coke" come from? The "grapevine" system interested her. + +"Sleighbells" seemed to have disposed of all the "coke" he had +brought with him. As the last packet went, he rose slowly, and +shuffled out. Constance, who knew that Adele would not come for some +time, determined to follow him. She rose quietly and, under cover of +a party going out, managed to disappear without, as far as she knew, +letting Drummond catch a glimpse of her. This would not only employ +her time, but it was better to avoid Drummond as far as possible, at +present, too, she felt. + +At a distance of about half a block she followed the curiously +shuffling figure. He crossed the avenue, turned and went uptown, +turned again, and, before she knew it, disappeared in a drug store. +She had been so engrossed in following the lobbygow that it was with +a start that she realized that he had entered Muller's. + +What did it all mean? Was the druggist, Muller, the man higher up? +She recalled suddenly her own experience of the afternoon. Had +Muller tried to palm off something on her? The more she thought of +it the more sure she was that the powders she had taken had been +doped. + +Slowly, turning the matter over in her mind, she returned to the +Mayfair. As she peered in cautiously before entering she saw that +Drummond had gone. Adele had not come in yet, and she went in and +sat down again in her old place. + +Perhaps half an hour later, outside, she heard a car drive up with a +furious rattle of gears. She looked out of the window and, as far as +she could determine in the shadows, it was Dr. Price. A woman got +out, Adele. For a moment she stopped to talk, then Dr. Price waved a +gay good-bye and was off. All she could catch was a hasty, "No; I +don't think I'd better come in to-night," from him. + +As Adele entered the Mayfair she glanced about, caught sight of +Constance and came and sat down by her. + +It would have been impossible for her to enter unobserved, so +popular was she. It was not long before the two girls whom Constance +had seen dealing with "Sleighbells" sauntered over. + +"Your friend was here to-night," remarked one to Adele. + +"Which one?" laughed Adele. + +"The one who admired your dancing the other night and wanted to take +lessons." + +"You mean the young fellow who was selling something?" asked +Constance pointedly. + +"Oh, no," returned the girl quite casually. "That was Sleighbells," +and they all laughed. + +Constance thought immediately of Drummond. "The other one, then," +she said, "the thick-set man who was all alone!" + +"Yes; he went away afterward. Do you know him?" + +"I've seen him somewhere," evaded Constance; "but I just can't quite +place him." + +She had not noticed Adele particularly until now. Under the light +she had a peculiar worn look, the same as she had had before. + +The waiter came up to them. "Your turn is next," he hinted to Adele. + +"Excuse me a minute," she apologized to the rest of the party. "I +must fix up a bit. No," she added to Constance, "don't come with +me." + +She returned from the dressing room a different person, and plunged +into the wild dance for which the limited orchestra was already +tuning up. It was a veritable riot of whirl and rhythm. Never before +had Constance seen Adele dance with such abandon. As she executed +the wild mazes of a newly imported dance, she held even the jaded +Mayfair spellbound. And when she concluded with one daring figure +and sat down, flushed and excited, the diners applauded and even +shouted approval. It was an event for even the dance-mad Mayfair. + +Constance did not share in the applause. At last she understood. +Adele was a dope fiend, too. She felt it with a sense of pain. +Always, she knew, the fiends tried to get away alone somewhere for a +few minutes to snuff some of their favorite nepenthe. She had heard +before of the cocaine "snuffers" who took a little of the deadly +powder, placed it on the back of the hand, and inhaled it up the +nose with a quick intake of breath. Adele was one. It was not Adele +who danced. It was the dope. + +Constance was determined to speak. + +"You remember that man the girls spoke of?" she began. + +"Yes. What of him?" asked Adele with almost a note of defiance. + +"Well, I really DO know him," confessed Constance. "He is a +detective." + +Constance watched her companion curiously, for at the mere word she +had stopped short and faced her. "He is?" she asked quickly. "Then +that was why Dr. Price--" + +She managed to suppress the remark and continued her walk home +without another word. + +In Adele's little apartment Constance was quick to note that the +same haggard look had returned to her friend's face. + +Adele had reached for her pocketbook with a sort of clutching +eagerness and was about to leave the room. + +Constance rose. "Why don't you give up the stuff?" she asked +earnestly. "Don't you want to?" + +For a moment Adele faced her angrily. Then her real nature seemed +slowly to come to the surface. "Yes," she murmured frankly. + +"Then why don't you?" pleaded Constance. + +"I haven't the power. There is an indescribable excitement to do +something great, to make a mark. It's soon gone, but while it lasts, +I can sing, dance, do anything--and then--every part of my body +begins crying for mere of the stuff again." + +There was no longer any necessity of concealment from Constance. She +took a pinch of the stuff, placed it on the back of her wrist and +quickly sniffed it. The change in her was magical. From a quivering +wretched girl she became a self-confident neurasthenic. + +"I don't care," she laughed hollowly now. + +"Yes, I know what you are going to tell me. Soon I'll be 'hunting +the cocaine bug,' as they call it, imagining that in my skin, under +the flesh, are worms crawling, perhaps see them, see the little +animals running around and biting me." + +She said it with a half-reckless cynicism. "Oh, you don't know. +There are two souls in the cocainist--one tortured by the pain of +not having the stuff, the other laughing and mocking at the dangers +of it. It stimulates. It makes your mind work--without effort, by +itself. And it gives such visions of success, makes you feel able to +do so much, and to forget. All the girls use it." + +"Where do they get it?" asked Constance "I thought the new law +prohibited it." + +"Get it?" repeated Adele. "Why, they get it from that fellow they +call 'Sleighbells.' They call it 'snow,' you know, and the girls who +use it 'snowbirds.' The law does prohibit its sale, but--" + +She paused significantly. + +"Yes," agreed Constance; "but Sleighbells is only a part of the +system after all. Who is the man at the top?" + +Adele shrugged her shoulders and was silent. Still, Constance did +not fail to note a sudden look of suspicion which Adele shot at her. +Was Adele shielding some one? + +Constance knew that some one must be getting rich from the traffic, +probably selling hundreds of ounces a week and making thousands of +dollars. Somehow she felt a sort of indignation at the whole thing. +Who was it? Who was the man higher up? + +In the morning as she was working about her little kitchenette an +idea came to her. Why not hire the vacant apartment cross the hall +from Adele? An optician, who was a friend of hers, in the course of +a recent conversation had mentioned an invention, a model of which +he had made for the inventor. She would try it. + +Since, with Constance, the outlining of a plan was tantamount to the +execution, it was not many hours later before she had both the +apartment and the model of the invention. + +Her wall separated her from the drug store and by careful +calculation she determined about where came the little prescription +department. Carefully, so as to arouse no suspicion, she began to +bore away at the wall with various tools, until finally she had a +small, al-most imperceptible opening. It was tedious work, and +toward the end needed great care so as not to excite suspicion. But +finally she was rewarded. Through it she could see just a trace of +daylight, and by squinting could see a row of bottles on a shelf +opposite. + +Then, through the hole, she pushed a long, narrow tube, like a putty +blower. When at last she placed her eye at it, she gave a low +exclamation of satisfaction. She could now see the whole of the +little room. + +It was a detectascope, invented by Gaillard Smith, adapter of the +detectaphone, an instrument built up on the principle of the +cytoscope which physicians use to explore internally down the +throat. Only, in the end of the tube, instead of an ordinary lens, +was placed what is known as a "fish-eye" lens, which had a range +something like nature has given the eyes of fishes, hence the name. +Ordinarily cameras, because of the flatness of their lenses, have a +range of only a few degrees, the greatest being scarcely more than +ninety. But this lens was globular, and, like a drop of water, +refracted light from all directions. When placed so that half of it +caught the light it "saw" through an angle of 180 degrees, "saw" +everything in the room instead of just that little row of bottles on +the shelf opposite. + +Constance set herself to watch, and it was not long before her +suspicions were confirmed, and she was sure that this was nothing +more than a "coke" joint. Still she wondered whether Muller was the +real source of the traffic of which Sleighbells was the messenger. +She was determined to find out. + +All day she watched through her detectascope. Once she saw Adele +come in and buy more dope. It was with difficulty that she kept from +interfering. But, she reflected, the time was not ripe. She had +thought the thing out. There was no use in trying to get at it +through Adele. The only way was to stop the whole curse at its +source, to dam the stream. People came and went. She soon found that +he was selling them packets from a box hidden in the woodwork. That +much she had learned, anyhow. + +Constance watched faithfully all day with only time enough taken out +for dinner. It was after her return from this brief interval that +she felt her heart give a leap of apprehension, as she looked again +through the detectascope. There was Drummond in the back of the +store talking to Muller and a woman who looked as if she might be +Mrs. Muller, for both, seemed nervous and anxious. + +As nearly as she could make out, Drummond was alternately +threatening and arguing with Muller. Finally the three seemed to +agree, for Drummond walked over to a typewriter on a table, took a +fresh sheet of carbon paper from a drawer, placed it between two +sheets of paper, and hastily wrote something. + +Drummond read over what he had written. It seemed to be short, and +the three apparently agreed on it. Then, in a trembling hand, Muller +signed the two copies which Drummond had made, one of which Drummond +himself kept and the other he sealed in an envelope and sent away by +a boy. Drummond reached into his pocket and pulled out a huge roll +of bills of large denomination. He counted out what seemed to be +approximately half, handed it to the woman, and replaced the rest in +his pocket. What it was all about Constance could only vaguely +guess. She longed to know what was in the letter and why the money +had been paid to the woman. + +Perhaps a quarter of an hour after Drummond left Adele appeared +again, pleading for more dope. Muller went back of the partition and +made up a fresh paper of it from a bottle also concealed. + +Constance was torn by conflicting impulses. She did not want to miss +anything in the perplexing drama that was being enacted before her, +yet she wished to interfere with the deadly course of Adele. Still, +perhaps the girl would resent interference if she found out that +Constance was spying on her. She determined to wait a little while +before seeing Adele. It was only after a decided effort that she +tore herself away from the detectascope and knocked on Adele's door +as if she had just come in for a visit. Again she knocked, but still +there was no answer. Every minute something might be happening next +door. She hurried back to her post of observation. + +One of the worst aspects of the use of cocaine, she knew, was the +desire of the user to share his experience with some one else. The +passing on of the habit, which seemed to be one of the strongest +desires of the drug fiend, made him even more dangerous to society +than he would otherwise have been. That thought gave Constance an +idea. + +She recalled also now having heard somewhere that it was a common +characteristic of these poor creatures to have a passion for fast +automobiling, to go on long rides, perhaps even without having the +money to pay for them. That, too, confirmed the idea which she had. + +As the night advanced she determined to stick to her post. What +could it have been that Drummond was doing? It was no good, she felt +positive. + +Suddenly before her eye, glued to its eavesdropping aperture, she +saw a strange sight. There was a violent commotion in the store. +Blue-coated policemen seemed to swarm in from nowhere. And in the +rear, directing them, appeared Drummond, holding by the arm the +unfortunate Sleighbells, quaking with fear, evidently having been +picked up already elsewhere by the wily detective. + +Muller put up a stout resistance, but the officers easily seized him +and, after a hasty but thorough search, unearthed his cache of the +contraband drug. + +As the scene unfolded, Constance was more and more bewildered after +having witnessed that which preceded it, the signing of the letter +and the passing of the money. Muller evidently had nothing to say +about that. What did it mean? + +The police were still holding Muller, and Constance had not noted +that Drummond had disappeared. + +"It's on the first floor--left, men," sounded a familiar voice +outside her own door. "I know she's there. My shadow saw her buy the +dope and take it home." + +Her heart was thumping wildly. It was Drummond leading his squad of +raiders, and they were about to enter the apartment of Adele. They +knocked, but there was no answer. + +A few moments before Constance would have felt perfectly safe in +saying that Adele was out. But if Drummond's man had seen her enter, +might she not have been there all the time, be there still, in a +stupor? She dreaded to think of what might happen if the poor girl +once fell into their hands. It would be the final impulse that would +complete her ruin. + +Constance did not stop to reason it out. Her woman's intuition told +her that now was the time to act--that there was no retreat. + +She opened her own door just as the raiders had forced in the flimsy +affair that guarded the apartment of Adele. + +"So!" sneered Drummond, catching sight of her in the dim light of +the hallway. "You are mixed up in these violations of the new drug +law, too!" + +Constance said nothing. She had determined first to make Drummond +display his hand. + +"Well," he ground out, "I'm going to get these people this time. I +represent the Medical Society and the Board of Health. These men +have been assigned to me by the Commissioner as a dope squad. We +want this girl. We have others who will give evidence; but we want +this one, too." + +He said it with a bluster that even exaggerated the theatrical +character of the raid itself. Constance did not stop to weigh the +value of his words, but through the door she brushed quickly. Adele +might need her if she was indeed there. + +As she entered the little living-room she saw a sight which almost +transfixed her. Adele was there--lying across a divan, motionless. + +Constance bent over. Adele was cold. As far as she could determine +there was not a breath or a heart beat! + +What did it mean? She did not stop to think. Instantly there flashed +over her the recollection of an instrument she had read about at one +of the city hospitals, It might save Adele. Before any one knew what +she was doing she had darted to the telephone in the lower hall of +the apartment and had called up the hospital frantically, imploring +them to hurry. Adele must be saved. + +Constance had no very clear idea of what happened next in the hurly- +burly of events, until the ambulance pulled up at the door and the +white-coated surgeon burst in carrying a heavy suitcase. + +With one look at the unfortunate girl he muttered, "Paralysis of the +respiratory organs--too large a dose of the drug. You did perfectly +right," and began unpacking the case. + +Constance, calm now in the crisis, stood by him and helped as deftly +as could any nurse. + +It was a curious arrangement of tubes and valves, with a large +rubber bag, and a little pump that the doctor had brought. Quickly +he placed a cap, attached to it, over the nose and mouth of the poor +girl, and started the machine. + +"Wh-what is it?" gasped Drummond as he saw Adele's hitherto +motionless breast now rise and fall. + +"A pulmotor," replied the doctor, working quickly and carefully, "an +artificial lung. Sometimes it can revive even the medically dead. It +is our last chance with this girl." + +Constance had picked up the packet which had fallen beside Adele and +was looking at the white powder. + +"Almost pure cocaine," remarked the young surgeon, testing it. "The +hydrochloride, large crystals, highest quality. Usually it is +adulterated. Was she in the habit of taking it this way?" + +Constance said nothing. She had seen Muller make up the packet-- +specially now, she recalled. Instead of the adulterated dope he had +given Adele the purest kind. Why? Was there some secret he wished to +lock in her breast forever? + +Mechanically the pulmotor pumped. Would it save her? + +Constance was living over what she had already seen through the +detectascope. Suddenly she thought of the strange letter and of the +money. + +She hurried into the drug store. Muller had already been taken away, +but before the officer left in charge could interfere she picked up +the carbon sheet on which the letter had been copied, turned it over +and held it eagerly to the light. + +She read in amazement. It was a confession. In it Muller admitted to +Dr. Moreland Price that he was the head of a sort of dope trust, +that he had messengers out, like Sleighbells, that he had often put +dope in the prescriptions sent him by the doctor, and had repeatedly +violated the law and refilled such prescriptions. On its face it was +complete and convincing. + +Yet it did not satisfy Constance. She could not believe that Adele +had committed suicide. Adele must possess some secret. What was it? + +"Is--is there any change?" she asked anxiously of the young surgeon +now engrossed in his work. + +For answer he merely nodded to the apparently motionless form on the +bed, and for a moment stopped the pulmotor. + +The mechanical movement of the body ceased. But in its place was a +slight tremor about the lips and mouth. + +Adele moved--was faintly gasping for breath! + +"Adele!" cried Constance softly in her ear. "Adele!" + +Something, perhaps a far-away answer of recognition, seemed to +flicker over her face. The doctor redoubled his efforts. + +"Adele--do you know me?" whispered Constance again. + +"Yes," came back faintly at last. "There--there's something--wrong +with it--They--they--" + +"How? What do you mean?" urged Constance. "Tell me, Adele." + +The girl moved uneasily. The doctor administered a stimulant and she +vaguely opened her eyes, began to talk hazily, dreamily. Constance +bent over to catch the faint words which would have been lost to the +others. + +"They--are going to--double cross the Health Department," she +murmured as if to herself, then gathering strength she went on, +"Muller and Sleighbells will be arrested and take the penalty. They +have been caught with the goods, anyhow. It has all been arranged so +that the detective will get his case. Money--will be paid to both of +them, to Muller and the detective, to swing the case and protect +him. He made me do it. I saw the detective, even danced with him and +he agreed to do it. Oh, I would do anything--I am his willing tool +when I have the stuff. But--this time--it was--" She rambled off +incoherently. + +"Who made you do it? Who told you?" prompted Constance. "For whom +would you do anything?" + +Adele moaned and clutched Constance's hand convulsively. Constance +did not pause to consider the ethics of questioning a half- +unconscious girl Her only idea was to get at the truth. + +"Who was it?" she reiterated. + +Adele turned weakly. + +"Dr. Price," she murmured as Constance bent her ear to catch even +the faintest sound. "He told me--all about it--last night--in the +car." + +Instantly Constance understood. Adele was the only one outside who +held the secret, who could upset the carefully planned frame-up that +was to protect the real head of the dope trust who had paid +liberally to save his own wretched skin. + +She rose quickly and wheeled about suddenly on Drummond. + +"You will convict Dr. Price also," she said in a low tone. "This +girl must not be dragged down, too. You will leave her alone, and +both you and Mr. Muller will hand over that money to her for her +cure of the habit." + +Drummond started forward angrily, but fell back as Constance added +in a lower but firmer tone, "Or I'll have you all up on a charge of +attempting murder." + +Drummond turned surlily to those of his "dope squad," who remained: + +"You can go, boys," he said brusquely. + +"There's been some mistake here." + + + + +CHAPTER XII + +THE FUGITIVES + + +"Newspaper pictures seldom look like the person they represent," +asserted Lawrence Macey nonchalantly. + +Constance Dunlap looked squarely at the man opposite her at the +table, oblivious to the surroundings. It was a brilliant sight in +the great after-theater rendezvous, the beautiful faces and gowns, +the exquisite music, the bright lights and the gayety. She had +chosen this time and place for a reason. She had hoped that the +contrast with what she had to say would be most marked in its +influence on the man. + +"Nevertheless," she replied keenly, "I recognize the picture--as +though you were Bertillon's new 'spoken portrait' of this Graeme +Mackenzie." + +She deliberately folded up a newspaper clipping and shoved it into +her hand-bag on a chair beside the table. + +Lawrence Macey met her eye unflinchingly. + +"Suppose," he drawled, "just for the sake of argument, that you are +right. What would you do?" + +Constance looked at the unruffled exterior of the man. With her keen +perception she knew that it covered just as calm an interior. He +would have said the same thing if she had been a real detective, had +walked up behind him suddenly in the subway crush, had tapped his +shoulder, and whispered, "You're wanted." + +"We are dealing with facts, not suppositions," she replied +evasively. + +Momentarily, a strange look passed over Macey's face. What was she +driving at--blackmail? He could not think so, even though he had +only just come to know Constance. He rejected the thought before it +was half formed. + +"Put it as you please," he persisted. "I am, then, this Graeme +Mackenzie who has decamped from Omaha with half a million--it is +half a million in the article, is it not?--of cash and unregistered +stocks and bonds. Now what would you do?" + +Constance felt unconsciously the shift which he had skilfully made +in their positions. Instead of being the pursuer, she was now the +pursued, at least in their conversation. He had admitted nothing of +what her quick intuition told her. + +Yet she felt an admiration for the sang-froid of Macey. She felt a +spell thrown over her by; the magnetic eyes that seemed to search +her own. They were large eyes, the eyes of a dreamer, rather than of +a practical man, eyes of a man who goes far and travels long with +the woman on whom he fixes them solely. + +"You haven't answered my hypothetical question," he reminded her. + +She brought herself back with a start. "I was only thinking," she +murmured. + +"Then there is doubt in your mind what you would do?" + +"N--no," she hesitated. + +He bent over nearer across the table. "You would at least recall the +old adage, 'Do unto others as you would that they should do unto +you'?" he urged. + +It was uncanny, the way this man read her thoughts. + +"You know whom they say quotes scripture," she avoided. + +"And am I a--a devil?" + +"I did not say so." + +"You hinted it." + +She had. But she said, "No, nor hinted it." + +"Then you did not MEAN to hint it?" + +She looked away a moment at the gay throng. "Graeme Mackenzie," she +said, slowly, "what's the use of all this beating about? Why cannot +we be frank with one another?" + +She paused, then resumed, meditatively, "A long time ago I became +involved with a man in a scheme to forge checks. I would have done +anything for him, anything." + +A cloud passed over his face. She saw it, had been watching for it, +but appeared not to do so. His was a nature to brook no rivalry. + +"My husband had become involved in extravagances for which I was to +blame," she went on. + +The cloud settled, and in its place came a look of intense relief. +He was like most men. Whatever his own morals, he demanded a high +standard in her. + +"We formed an amateur partnership in crime," she hurried on. "He +lost his life, was unable to stand up against the odds, while he was +alone, away from me. Since then I have been helping those who have +become involved, on the wrong side, with the law. There," she +concluded simply, "I have put myself in your power. I have admitted +my part in something that, try as they would, they could never +connect me with. I have done it because--because I want to help you. +Be as frank with me." + +He eyed her keenly again. The appeal was irresistible. + +"I can tell you Graeme Mackenzie's story," he began carefully. "Six +months ago there was a young man in Omaha who had worked faithfully +for a safe deposit company for years. He was getting eighty-five +dollars a month. That is more than it seems to you here in New York. +But it was very little for what he did. Why, as superintendent of +the safe deposit vaults he had helped to build up that part of the +trust company's business to such an extent that he knew he deserved +more. + +"Now, a superintendent of a safe deposit vault has lots of chances. +Sometimes depositors give him their keys to unlock their boxes for +them. It is a simple thing to make an impression in wax or chewing +gum palmed in the hand. Or he has access to a number of keys of +unrented boxes; he can, as opportunity offers, make duplicates, and +then when the boxes are rented, he has a key. Even if the locks of +unrented boxes are blanks, set by the first insertion of the key +chosen at random, he can still do the same thing. And even if it +takes two to get at the idle keys, himself and another trusted +employe, he can get at them, if he is clever, without the other +officer knowing it, though it may be done almost before his eyes. +You see, it all comes down to the honesty of the man." + +He paused. Constance was fascinated at the coolness with which this +man had gone to work, and with which he told of it. + +"This superintendent earned more than he received. He deserved it. +But when he asked for a raise, they told him he was lucky to keep +the job,--they reduced him, instead, to seventy-five dollars. He was +angry at the stinging rebuke. He determined to make them smart, to +show them what he could do. + +"One noon he went out to lunch and--they have been looking for him +ever since. He had taken half a million in cash, stocks, and bonds, +unregistered and hence easily hypothecated and traded on." + +"And his motive?" she asked. + +He looked at her long and earnestly as if making up his mind to +something. "I think," he replied, "I wanted revenge quite as much as +the money." + +He said it slowly, measured, as if realizing that there was now +nothing to be gained by concealment from her, as if only he wanted +to put himself in the best light with the woman who had won from him +his secret. It was his confession! + +Acquaintances with Constance ripened fast into friendships. She had +known Macey, as he called himself, only a fortnight. He had been +introduced to her at a sort of Bohemian gathering, had talked to +her, direct, as she liked a man to talk. He had seen her home that +night, had asked to call, and on the other nights had taken her to +the theater and to supper. + +Delicately unconsciously, a bond of friendship had grown up between +them. She felt that he was a man vibrating with physical and mental +power, long latent, which nothing but a strong will held in check, a +man by whom she could be fascinated, yet of whom she was just a +little bit afraid. + +With Macey, it would have been difficult to analyze his feelings. He +had found in Constance a woman who had seen the world in all its +phases, yet had come through unstained by what would have drowned +some in the depths of the under-world, or thrust others into the +degradation of the demi-monde, at least. He admired and respected +her. He, the dreamer, saw in her the practical. She, an adventurer +in amateur lawlessness saw in him something kindred at heart. + +And so when a newspaper came to her in which she recognized with her +keen insight Lawrence Macey's face under Graeme Mackenzie's name, +and a story of embezzlement of trust company and other funds from +the Omaha Central Western Trust of half a million, she had not been +wholly surprised. Instead, she felt almost a sense of elation. The +man was neither better nor worse than herself. And he needed help. + +Her mind wandered back to a time, months before, when she had +learned the bitter lesson of what it was to be a legal outcast, and +had determined always to keep within the law, no matter how close to +the edge of things she went. + +Mackenzie continued looking at her, as if waiting for the answer to +his first question. + +"No," she said slowly, "I am not going to hand you over. I never had +any such intention. We are in each other's power. But you cannot go +about openly, even in New York, now. Some one besides myself must +have seen that article." + +Graeme listened blankly. It was true. His fancied security in the +city was over. He had fled to New York because there, in the mass of +people, he could best sink his old identity and take on a new. + +She leaned her head on her hand and her elbow on the table and +looked deeply into his eyes. "Let me take those securities," she +said. "I will be able to do safely what you cannot do." + +Graeme did not seem now to consider the fortune for which he had +risked so much. The woman before him was enough. + +"Will you?" he asked eagerly. + +"I will do with them as I would for myself, better, because--because +it is a trust," she accepted. + +"More than a trust," he added, as he leaned over in turn and in +spite of other diners in the restaurant took her hand. + +There are times when the rest of the critical world and its frigid +opinions are valueless. Constance did not withdraw her hand. Rather +she watched in his eyes the subtle physical change in the man that +her very touch produced, watched and felt a response in herself. + +Quickly she withdrew her hand. "I must go," she said rather +hurriedly, "it is getting late." + +"Constance," he whispered, as he helped her on with her wraps, +brushing the waiter aside that he might himself perform any duty +that involved even touching her, "Constance, I am in your hands-- +absolutely." + +It had been pleasant to dine with him. It was more pleasant now to +feel her influence and power over him. She knew it, though she only +half admitted it. They seemed for the moment to walk on air, as they +strolled, chatting, out to a taxicab. + +But as the cab drew up before her own apartment, the familiar +associations of even the entrance brought her back to reality +suddenly. He handed her out, and the excitement of the evening was +over. She saw the thing in its true light. This was the beginning, +not the end. + +"Graeme," she said, as she lingered for a moment at the door. "To- +morrow we must find a place where you can hide." + +"I may see you, though?" he asked anxiously. + +"Of course. Ring me up in the morning, Graeme. Good-night," and she +was whisked up in the elevator, leaving Mackenzie with a sense of +loss and loneliness. + +"By the Lord," he muttered, as he swung down the street in +preference to taking a cab, "what a woman that is!" + +Together the next day they sought out a place where he could remain +hidden. Mackenzie would have been near her, but Constance knew +better. She chose a bachelor apartment where the tenants never arose +before noon and where night was turned into day. Men would not ask +questions. In an apartment like her own there was nothing but +gossip. + +In the daytime he stayed at home. Only at night did he go forth and +then under her direction in the most unfrequented ways. + +Every day Constance went to Wall Street, where she had established +confidential relations with a number of brokers. Together they +planned the campaigns; she executed them with consummate skill and +adroitness. + +Constance was amazed. Here was a man who for years had been able to +earn only eighty-five dollars a month and had not seemed to show any +ability. Yet he was able to speculate in Wall Street with such dash +that he seemed to be in a fair way, through her, to accumulate a +fortune. + +One night as they were hurrying back to Graeme's after a walk, they +had to pass a crowd on Broadway. Constance saw a familiar face +hurrying by. It gave her a start. It was Drummond, the detective. He +was not, apparently, looking for her. But then that was his method. +He might have been looking. At any rate it reminded her unpleasantly +of the fact that there were detectives in the world. + +"What's the matter?" asked Graeme, noticing the change in her. + +"I just saw a man I know." + +The old jealousy flushed his face. Constance laughed in spite of her +fears. Indeed, there was something that pleased her in his jealousy. + +"He was the detective who has been hounding me ever since that time +I told you about." + +"Oh," he subsided. But if Drummond had been there, Mackenzie could +have been counted on to risk all to protect her. + +"We must be more careful," she shuddered. + +Constance was startled one evening just as she was going out to meet +Graeme and report on the progress of the day at hearing a knock at +her door. + +She opened it. + +"I suppose you think I am your Nemesis," introduced Drummond, as he +stepped in, veiling the keenness of his search by an attempt to be +familiar. + +She had more than half expected it. She said nothing, but her +coldness was plainly one of interrogation. + +"A case has been placed in my hands by some western clients of +ours," he said by way of swaggering explanation, "of an embezzler +who is hiding in New York. It required no great reasoning power to +decide that the man's trail would sooner or later cross Wall Street. +I believe it has done so--not directly, but indirectly. The trail, I +think, has brought me back to the proverbial point of 'CHERCHEZ LA +FEMME.' I am delighted," he dwelt on the word to see what would be +its effect, "to see in the Graeme Mackenzie case my old friend, +Constance Dunlap." + +"So," she replied quietly, "you suspect ME, now. I suppose _I_ am +Graeme Mackenzie." + +"No," Drummond replied dubiously, "you are not Graeme Mackenzie, of +course. You may be Mrs. Graeme Mackenzie, for all I know. But I +believe you are the receiver of Graeme Mackenzie's stolen goods!" + +"You do?" she answered calmly. "That remains for you to prove. Why +do you believe it? Is it because you are ready to believe anything +of me!" + +"I have noticed that you are more active downtown than--" + +"Oh, it is because I speculate. Have I no means of my own?" she +asked pointedly. + +"Where is he? Not here, I know. But where?" insinuated Drummond with +a knowing look. + +"Am I my brother's keeper?" she laughed merrily. "Come, now. Who is +this wonderful Graeme Mackenzie? First show me that I know him. You +know the rule in a murder case--you must prove the CORPUS DELICTI." + +Drummond was furious. She was so baffling. That was his weak point +and she had picked it out infallibly. Whatever his suspicions, he +had been able to prove nothing, though he suspected much in the +buying and selling of Constance. + +A week of bitterness, of a constant struggle against the wiles of +one of the most subtle sleuths followed, avoiding hidden traps that +beset her on every side. Was this to be the end of it all? Was +Drummond's heroic effort to entangle her to succeed at last? + +She felt that a watch of the most extraordinary kind was set on her, +an invisible net woven about her. Eyes that never slept were upon +her; there was no minute in her regular haunts that she was not +guarded. She knew it, though she could not see it. + +It was a war of subtle wits. Yet from the beginning Constance was +the winner of every move. She was on her mettle. They would not, she +determined, find Graeme through her. + +Days passed and the detectives still had no sign of the missing man. +It seemed hopeless, but, like all good detectives, Drummond knew +from experience that a clue might come to the surface when it was +least expected. Constance on her part never relaxed. + +One day it was a young woman dressed in most inconspicuous style who +followed close behind her, a woman shadow, one of the shrewdest in +the city. + +A tenant moved into the apartment across the hall from Constance, +and another hired an apartment in the next house, across the court. +There was constant espionage. She seemed to "sense" it. The newcomer +was very neighborly, explaining that her husband was a traveling +salesman, and that she was alone for weeks at a time. + +The lines tightened. The next door neighbor always seemed to be +around at mail time, trying to get a look at the postmarks on the +Dunlap letters. She had an excuse in the number of letters to +herself. "Orders for my husband," she would smile. "He gets lots of +them personally here." + +All their ingenuity went for naught. Constance was not to be caught +that way. + +They tried new tricks. If it was a journey she took, some one went +with her whom she had to shake off sooner or later. There were +visits of peddlers, gas men, electric light and telephone men. They +were all detectives, also, always seeking a chance to make a search +that might reveal her secret. The janitor who collected the waste +paper found that it had a ready sale at a high price. Every +stratagem that Drummond's astute mind could devise was called into +play. But nothing, not a scrap of new evidence did they find. + +Yet all the time Constance was in direct communication with +Mackenzie. + +Graeme, in his enforced idleness, was more deeply in love with +Constance now than ever. He had eyes for nothing else. Even his +fortunes would have been disregarded, had he not felt that to do +that would have been the surest way to condemn himself before her. + +They had cut out the evening trips now, for fear of recognition. She +was working faithfully. Already she had cleaned up something like +fifty thousand dollars on the turn over of the stuff he had stolen. +Another week and it would be some thousands more. + +Yet the strain was beginning to show. + +"Oh, Graeme," she cried, one night after she had a particularly hard +time in shaking Drummond's shadows in order to make her +unconventional visit to him, "Graeme, I'm so tired of it all-- +tired." + +He was about to pour out what was in his own heart when she resumed, +"It's the lonesomeness of it. We are having success. But, what is +success--alone?" + +"Yes," he echoed, thinking of his feeling that night when she had +left him at the elevator, of the feeling now every moment of the +time she was away from him, "yes, alone!" + +With the utmost difficulty he restrained the wildly surging emotions +within him. He could not know with what effort Constance held her +poise so admirably, keeping always that barrier of reserve beyond +which now and then he caught a glimpse. + +"Let us cut out and bury ourselves in Europe," he urged. + +"No," she replied firmly. "Wait. I have a plan. Wait. We could never +get away. They would find us and extradite us surely." + +She was coming out of a broker's office one day after the close of +the market, only to run full tilt into Drummond, who had been +waiting for her, cat-like. Evidently he had a purpose. + +"You will be interested to know," remarked the detective, watching +her narrowly, "that District Attorney Wickham, who had the case in +charge out there, is in New York, with the president of the Central +Western Trust." + +"Yes?" she said non-committally. + +"I told them I was on the trail, through a woman, and they have come +here to aid me." + +Why had he told her that? Was it to put her on her guard or was it +in a spirit of bravado? She could not think so. It was not his style +to bluster at this stage of the game. No, there was a deep-laid +purpose. He expected her to make some move to extricate herself that +would display her hand and betray all. It was clever and a less +clever person than Constance would have fallen before the onslaught. + +Constance was thinking rapidly, as he told her where and how the new +pursuers were active. Here, she felt, was the crisis, her +opportunity. + +Scarcely had Drummond gone, than she, too, was hurrying down the +street on her way to see Mackenzie's pursuers face to face. + +She found Wickham registered at the Prince Henry, a new hotel and +sent up her card. A few moments later he received her, with +considerable restraint as if he knew about her and had not expected +so soon to have to show his own hand. + +"I understand," she began quickly, "that you have come to New York +because Mr. Drummond claims to be able to clear up the Graeme +Mackenzie case." + +"Yes?" he replied quizzically. + +"Perhaps," she continued, coming nearer to the point of her self- +imposed mission, "perhaps there may be some other way to settle this +case than through Mr. Drummond." + +"We might hold you," he shot out quickly. + +"No," she replied, "you have nothing on me. And as for Mr. +Mackenzie, I understand, you don't even know where he is--whether he +is in New York, London, Paris, or Berlin, or whether he may not go +from one city to another at any moment you take open action." + +Wickham bit his lip. He knew she was right. Even yet the case hung +on the most slender threads. + +"I have been wondering," she continued, "if there is not some way in +which this thing can be compromised." + +"Never," exclaimed Wickham positively. "He must return the whole +sum, with interest to date. Then and only then can we consider his +plea for clemency." + +"You would consider it?" she asked keenly. + +"Of course. We should have to consider it. Voluntary surrender and +reparation would be something like turning state's witness--against +himself." + +Constance said nothing. + +"Can you do it?" he asked, watching craftily to see whether she +might not drop a hint that might prove valuable. + +"I know those who might try," she answered, catching the look. + +Wickham changed. + +"What if we should get him without your aid!" he blustered. + +"Try," she shrugged. + +Arguments and threats were of no avail with her. She would say +nothing more definite. She was obdurate. + +"You must leave it all to me," she repeated. "I would not betray +him. You cannot prove anything on ME." + +"Bring the stuff up here yourself, then," he insinuated. + +"But I don't trust you, either," she replied frankly. + +The two faced each other. Constance knew in her heart that it was +going to be a battle royal with this man, that now she had taken a +step even so far in the open it was every one for himself and the +devil take the hindmost. + +"I can't help it," he concluded. "Those are the terms. It is as far +as I can trust a--a thief." + +"But I will keep my word," she said quietly. "When you prove to me +that you are absolutely on the level, that Mackenzie can make +restitution in full with interest, and in return be left as free a +man as he is at this moment--why,--I can have him give up." + +"Mrs. Dunlap," said Wickham with an air of finality, "I will make +one concession. I will adopt any method of restitution he may +prefer. But it must be by direct dealing between Mackenzie and +myself, with Drummond present as well as Mr. Taylor, president of +the Trust Company, who is now also in New York. That is my +ultimatum. Good-afternoon." + +Constance left the room with flushed face and eyes that glinted with +determination. Over and over she thought out methods to accomplish +what she had planned. When they complied with all the conditions +that would safeguard Mackenzie, she had determined to act. But +Graeme must be master of the situation. + +Cautiously she went through her usual elaborate precautions to shake +off any shadows that might be following her, and an hour later found +her with Mackenzie. + +"What has happened!" he asked eagerly, surprised at her early visit. + +Briefly she ran over the events of the afternoon. "Would you be +willing," she asked, "to go to District Attorney Wickham, hand over +the half million with, say, twelve thousand dollars interest, in +return for freedom?" + +Graeme looked at Constance a moment doubtfully. + +"I would not do that," he measured slowly. "How do I know what they +will do, the moment they get me in their power? No. Almost, I would +say that I would not go there under any guarantee they might give. I +do not trust them. The indictment must be dismissed first." + +"But they won't do that. The ultimatum was personal restitution." + +Constance was faced by an apparently insurmountable dilemma. She saw +and agreed with the reasonableness of Graeme's position. But there +was the opposition and obstinacy of Wickham, the bitterness and +unscrupulousness of Drummond. Here was a tremendous problem. How was +she to meet it? + +For perhaps half an hour they sat in silence. One plan after another +she rejected. + +Suddenly an idea occurred to her. Somewhere, in a bank, she had seen +a method which might meet the difficulty. + +"To-morrow--I will arrange it--to suit both of you," she cried +confidently. + +"How?" he asked. + +"Trust it all to me," she appealed. + +"All," replied Graeme, rising and standing before her. "All. I will +do anything you say." + +He was about to take her hand, but she rose. "No, Graeme. Not now. +There is work--the crisis. No, I must go. Trust me." + +It was not until noon of the next day that he saw Constance again. +There was an air of suppressed excitement about her as she entered +the apartment and placed on a table before him a small oblong box of +black enameled metal, beneath which was a roll of paper. Above was +another somewhat similar box with another roll of paper. + +Constance attached the instrument to the telephone, an enigmatical +conversation followed, and she hung up the receiver. + +A few minutes later, she took the stylus that was in the lower box. +Hastily across the blank paper she wrote the words, "We are ready." + +Mackenzie was too fascinated to ask questions. Suddenly, out of the +corner of his eye, he saw something in the upper box move, as if of +itself. It was a similar, self-inking stylus. + +"Watch!" exclaimed Constance. + +"Do you get this?" wrote the spirit hand. + +"Perfectly," she scrawled in turn. "Go ahead, as you promised." + +The upper stylus was now moving freely at the ends of its two rigid +arms, counterparts of those holding the lower stylus. + +"We promise," it wrote, "that in consideration of the return..." + +"What is it?" interrupted Graeme, as the meaning of the words even +now began to dawn on him. + +"A telautograph," she replied simply, "a long distance writer which +I have had installed over a leased wire from the hotel room of +Wickham to meet the demands of you two. With it you write over wires +just as with the telephone you talk over wires. It is as though you +took one of the old pantagraphs, split it in half, and had each half +connected only by the telephone wires. While you write on this +transmitter, their receiver records for them what you write. Look!" + +"... of $500,000," it continued to write, "in cash, stocks and +bonds, with interest to date, all proceedings against Graeme +Mackenzie will be dropped and the indictment quashed. + +"Marshall Taylor, Pres. Central Western Trust." + +"Maxwell Wickham, District Att'y." + +"Riley Drummond, Detective." + +"It is even broader than I had hoped," cried Constance in delight. +"Does that satisfy you, Graeme?" + +"Y-yes," he murmured, not through hesitation, but from the +suddenness and surprise of the thing. + +"Then sign this." + +She wrote quickly: "In consideration of the dropping of all charges +against me, I agree to tell the number and location of the safe +deposit box in New York where the stocks and bonds I possess are +located and to hand over a key and written order to the same. I now +agree immediately to pay by check the balance of the half million, +including interest." + +She stepped aside from the machine. With a tremor of eagerness he +seized the stylus and underneath what she had written wrote boldly +the name, "Graeme Mackenzie." + +Next Constance herself took the stylus. "Place in the telautograph a +blank check," she wrote. "He will write in the name of the bank, the +amount, and the signature." + +She did the same. "Now, Graeme, sign this cheek on the Universal +Bank as Lawrence Macey," she said, writing in the amount. + +Mechanically he took the stylus. His fingers trembled as he held it, +but with an effort he controlled himself. It was too weird, too +uncanny to be true. Here he was, without stirring forth from the +security of his hiding place; there were his pursuers in their +hotel. With the precautions taken by Constance, neither party knew +where the other was. Yet they were in instant touch, not by the ear +alone, but by handwriting itself. + +He placed the stylus on the paper. She had already written in the +number of the check, the date, the bank, the amount, and the payee, +Marshall Taylor. Hastily Graeme signed it, as though in fear that +they might rescind their action before he could finish. + +"Now the securities," she said. "I have withdrawn already the amount +we have made trading--it is a substantial sum. Write out an order to +the Safe Deposit Company to deliver the key and the rest of the +contents of the box to Taylor. I have fixed it with them after a +special interview this morning. They understand." + +Again Graeme wrote, feverishly. + +"I--we--are entirely free from prosecution of any kind?" he asked +eagerly. + +"Yes," Constance murmured, with just a catch in her throat, as now +that the excitement was over, she realized that he was free, +independent of her again. + +The telautograph had stopped. No, it was starting again. Had there +been a slip! Was the dream at last to turn to ashes? They watched +anxiously. + +"Mrs. Dunlap," the words unfolded, "I take my hat off to you. You +have put it across again. + +"DRUMMOND." + +Constance read it with a sense of overwhelming relief. It was a +magnanimous thing in Drummond. Almost she forgave him for many of +the bitter hours he had caused in the discharge of his duty. + +As they looked at the writing they realized its import. The +detective had abandoned the long search. It was as though he had put +his "O.K." on the agreement. + +"We are no longer fugitives!" exclaimed Graeme, drawing in a breath +that told of the weight lifted from him. + +For an instant he looked down into her upturned face and read the +conflict that was going on in her. She did not turn away, as she had +before. It flashed over him that once, not long ago, she had talked +in a moment of confidence of the loneliness she had felt since she +had embarked as the rescuer of amateur criminals. + +Graeme bent down and took her hand, as he had the first night when +they had entered their strange partnership. + +"Never--never can I begin to pay you what I owe," he said huskily, +his face near hers. + +He felt her warm breath almost on his cheek, saw the quick color +come into her face, her breast rise and fall with suppressed +emotion. Their eyes met. + +"You need not pay," she whispered, "I am yours." + +THE END + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Constance Dunlap, by Arthur B. 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