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Page 56
"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 clairvoyant--yes. She has speculated--yes.
Yet she was proof against something greater than that. And I know--
because I know her unconscious self which her dreams reveal, her
inmost soul--I know her better than you do, better than she does
herself. I know that even now she is as good and true and would be
as loving as--"
Constance had paused and taken a step toward the drawing room.
Before she knew it, the portieres flew apart and an eager little
woman had rushed past her and flung her arms about the neck of the
man.
Caswell's features were working, as he gently disengaged her arms,
still keeping one hand. Half shoving her aside, ignoring Constance,
he had faced Drummond. For a moment the brazen detective flinched.
As he did so, deForest Caswell crumpled up the mass of tissue paper
reports and flung them into the fireplace.
"Get out!" he said, suppressing his voice with difficulty. "Send me
--your bill. I'll pay it--but, mind, if it is one penny more than it
should be, I'll--I'll fight if it takes me from the district
attorney and the grand jury to the highest court of the State. Now--
go!"
Caswell turned slowly again toward his wife.
"I've been a brute," he said simply.
Something almost akin to jealousy rose in Constance's heart as she
saw Mildred, safe at last.
Then Caswell turned slowly to her. "You," he said, stroking his
wife's hand gently but looking at Constance, "you are a REAL
clairvoyant."
CHAPTER VII
THE PLUNGERS
"They have the most select clientele in the city here."
Constance Dunlap was sitting in the white steamy room of Charmant's
Beauty Shop. Her informant, reclining dreamily in a luxurious wicker
chair, bathed in the perspiring vapor, had evidently taken a fancy
to her.
"And no wonder, either; they fix you up so well," she rattled on;
then confidingly, "Now, last night after the show a party of us went
to supper and a dance--and it was in the wee small hours when we
broke up. But Madame here can make you all over again. Floretta,"
she called to an attendant who had entered, "if Mr. Warrington calls
up on the 'phone, say I'll call him later."
"Yes, Miss Larue."
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