is their business, you know, to manufacture it. You may uncover a
six-dollar operative, Mrs. Douglas, but are you the equal of a
twenty-dollar-a-day investigator?"

The woman looked genuinely scared. Evidently Constance knew some things
she didn't know, at least about detectives.

"You--you don't think there is anything like that, do you?" she asked
anxiously.

"Well," replied Constance slowly to impress her, "I saw your friend,
Mrs. Murray, after you had left the Vanderveer, talking to a detective
whom I have every reason to fear as one of the most unscrupulous in the
game."

"Oh, that is impossible!" persisted Mrs. Douglas.

"Not a bit of it," pursued Constance. "Think it over for a moment. Who
would be the last person a man or woman would suspect of being a
detective? Why, just such an attractive young woman, of course. You
see, it is just this way. They reason that if they can only get
acquainted with people the rest is easy. For, people, under the right
circumstances, will tell everything they know."

The woman was staring at Constance.

"For example," urged Constance, "I'm talking to you now as if I had
known you for years. Why, Mrs. Douglas, men tell their most important
business secrets to chance luncheon and dinner companions whom they
think have no direct or indirect interest in them. Over tea-tables
women tell their most intimate personal affairs. In fact, all you have
to do is to keep your ears open."

Mrs. Douglas had risen and was nervously watching Constance, who saw
that she had made an impression and that all that was necessary was to
follow it up.

"Now, for instance," added Constance quickly, "you say she is a friend
of yours. How did you meet her?"

Mrs. Douglas did not raise her eyes to Constance's now. Yet she seemed
to feel that Constance was different from other chance acquaintances,
to feel a sort of confidence, and to want to meet frankness with
frankness.

"One day I was with a friend of mine at the new Palais de Maxixe," she
answered in a low voice as if making a confession. "A woman in the
dressing-room borrowed a cigarette. You know they often do that. We got
talking, and it seemed that we had much in common in our lives. Before
I went back to him--"

She bit her lip. She had evidently not intended to admit that she knew
any other men. Constance, however, appeared not to notice the slip.

"I had arranged to meet her at luncheon the next day," she continued
hastily. "We h