serving
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 clair