“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 tonight?” 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 neighbour 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 travelling 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 millimetres 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!