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.