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Page 52
When she rose to go, Davies accompanied her to the door, then out
into the hall to the elevator. As he bent over to shake hands, she
noted that he held her hand just a little longer than was necessary.
"He's a swindler of the first water," she concluded as she was
whisked down in the elevator. "I'm sure Mildred is in badly with
this crowd, one urging her on in her trouble, the other making it
worse and fleecing her into the bargain."
At the entrance she paused, undecided which was the quickest route
home. As by chance she turned just for a moment she thought she
caught a fleeting glimpse of Drummond dodging behind a pillar. It
was only for an instant but even that apparition was enough.
"I WILL get her out of this safely," resolved Constance. "I WILL
keep one more fly from his web."
Constance felt as if, even now, she must see Mildred and, although
she knew nothing, at least put her on her guard. She did not have
long to wait for her chance. It was late in the afternoon when her
door buzzer sounded.
"Constance, I've been looking for you all day," sighed Mildred,
dropping sobbing into a chair. "I am--distracted."
"Why, my dear, what's the matter?" asked Constance. "Let me make you
a cup of coffee."
Over the steaming little cups Mildred grew more calm.
"Forest has found out in some way that I am speculating in Wall
Street," she confided at length. "I suppose some of his friends--he
has lots down there--told him."
Momentarily the picture of Drummond back of the post in Davies'
building flashed over Constance.
"And he is awfully angry. Oh, I never knew him to be so angry--and
sarcastic, too."
"Was it wholly over your money?" asked Constance. "Was there nothing
else?"
Mrs. Caswell started. "You grow more weird, every day, Constance.
Yes--there was something else."
"Mr. Davies?"
Mildred had risen. "Don't--don't--" she cried.
"Then you do really--care for him!" asked Constance mercilessly.
"No--no, a thousand times--no. How can I? I have put all such
thoughts out of my mind--long ago." She paused, then went on more
calmly, "Constance, believe me or not--I am just as good a woman to-
day as I was the day I married Forest. No--I would not even let the
thought enter my head--never!"
For perhaps an hour after her friend had gone, Constance sat
thinking. What should she do? Something must be done and soon. As
she thought, suddenly the truth flashed over her.
Caswell had employed Drummond to shadow his wife in the hope that he
might unearth something that might lead to a divorce. Drummond, like
so many divorce detectives, was not averse to guiding events, to put
it mildly. He had ingratiated himself, perhaps, with the clairvoyant
and Davies. Constance had often heard before of clairvoyants and
brokers who worked in conjunction to fleece the credulous. Now
another and more serious element than the loss of money was
involved. Added to them was a divorce detective--and honor itself
was at stake. She remembered the doped cigarettes. She had heard of
them before at clairvoyants'. She saw it all--Madame Cassandra
playing on Mildred's wounded affections, the broker on both that and
her desire to be independent--and Drummond pulling the wires that
all might take advantage of her woman's frailty.
That moment Constance determined on action.
First she telephoned to deForest Caswell at his office. It was an
unconventional thing to do to ask him to call, but she made some
plausible pretext. She was surprised to find that he accepted it
without hesitating. It set her thinking. Drummond must have told him
something of her and he had thought this as good a time as any to
face her. In that case Drummond would probably come too. She was
prepared.
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