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Page 75
"And remember," Constance added in a tense voice, "for anything
after your elopement--it's aphasia, aphasia, APHASIA!"
CHAPTER IX
THE SHOPLIFTERS
"Madam, would you mind going with me for a few moments to the office
on the third floor?"
Constance Dunlap had been out on a shopping excursion. She had
stopped at the jewelry counter of Stacy's to have a ring repaired
and had gone on to the leather goods department to purchase
something else.
The woman who spoke to her was a quietly dressed young person, quite
inconspicuous, with a keen eye that seemed to take in everything
within a radius of a wide-angled lens at a glance.
She leaned over and before Constance could express even surprise,
added in a whisper, "Look in your bag."
Constance looked hastily, then realized what had happened. The ring
was gone!
It gave her quite a shock, too, for the ring, a fine diamond, was a
present from her husband, one of the few pieces of jewelry,
treasured not only for its intrinsic value but as a remembrance of
Carlton and the supreme sacrifice he had made for her.
She had noticed nothing in the crowd, nothing more than she had
noticed scores of times before. The woman watched her puzzled look.
"I've been following you," she said. "By this time the other store
detectives must have caught the shoplifter and bag-opener who
touched you. You see, we don't make any arrests in the store if we
can help it, because we don't like to make a scene. It's bad for
business. Besides, if she had anything else, we are safer when the
case comes to court, if we have caught her actually leaving the
store with it. Of course, when we make an arrest on the sidewalk, we
bring the shoplifter back, but in a private, back elevator."
Constance was following the young woman mechanically. At least there
was a chance of recovering the ring.
"She was standing next to you at the jewelry counter," she
continued, "and if you will help identify her the store management
will appreciate it--and make it worth your while. Besides," she
urged, "It's really your duty to do it, madam."
Constance remembered now the rather simply but richly gowned young
woman who had been standing next to her at the counter, seemingly
unable to decide which of a number of beautiful rings she really
wanted. She remembered because, with her own love of beauty, she had
wanted one herself, in fact had thought at the time that she, too,
might have difficulty in choosing.
With the added feeling of curiosity, Constance followed the woman
detective up in the elevator.
In the office, apart in a little room curiously furnished with a
camera, innumerable photographs, cabinets, and filing cases, was a
young woman, perhaps twenty-six or seven. On a table before her lay
a pile of laces and small trinkets. There, too, was the beautiful
diamond ring which she had hidden in her muff. Constance fairly
gasped at the sight.
The girl was sitting limply in a chair crying bitterly. She was not
a hardened looking creature. In fact, her face bore evident traces
of refinement, and her long, slender fingers hinted at a nervous,
artistic temperament. It was rather a shock to see such a girl under
such distressing circumstances.
"We've lost so much lately," a small ferret-eyed man was saying,
"that we must make an example of some one. It's serious for us
detectives, too. We'll lose our jobs unless we can stop you
boosters."
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