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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.