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 woul