nerves."

She had placed it on Drummond's arm. He appeared fascinated.

"See how it works?" she went on. "You see one hundred and twenty-five
millimeters is the normal pressure. Kitty Carr is absolutely abnormal.
I do not know, but I think that she suffers from periodical attacks of
vertigo. Almost all kleptomaniacs do. During an attack they are utterly
irresponsible."

Drummond was looking at the thing carefully. Constance turned to Annie
Grayson.

"Where's your husband?" she asked offhand.

"Oh, he disappeared as soon as these department store dicks showed up,"
she replied bitterly. She had been watching Constance narrowly, quite
nonplussed, and unable to make anything out of what was going on.

Constance looked at Drummond inquiringly.

He shook his head slowly. "I'm afraid we'll never catch him," he said.
"He got the jump on us--although we have our lines out for him, too."

She had glanced down quickly at the little innocent-looking but
telltale sphygmomanometer.

"You lie!" she exclaimed suddenly, with all the vigor of a man.

She was pointing at the quivering little needle which registered a
sudden, access of emotion totally concealed by the sang-froid of
Drummond's well-schooled exterior.

She wrenched the thing off his wrist and dropped it into her bag. A
moment later she stood by the open window facing the street, a bright
little police whistle gleaming in her hand, ready for its shrill alarm
if any move were made to cut short what she had to say.

She was speaking rapidly now.

"You see, I've had it on all of you, one after another, and each has
told me your story, just enough of it for me to piece it together.
Kitty is suffering from a form of vertigo, an insanity, kleptomania,
the real thing. As for you, Mr. Drummond, you were in league with the
alleged husband--your own stool pigeon--to catch Annie Grayson."

Drummond moved. So did the whistle. He stopped.

"But she was too clever for you all. She was not caught, even by a man
who lived with her as her own husband. For she was not operating."

Annie Grayson moved as if to face out her accusers at this sudden turn
of fortune.

"One moment, Annie," cut in Constance.

"And yet, you are the real shoplifter, after all. You fell into the
trap which Drummond laid for you. I take pleasure, Mr. Drummond, in
presenting you with better evidence than even your own stool pigeon
could possibly have given you under the circumstances."

She paused.