Constance Dunlap

“ Dunlap," she began convulsively, "I hope you will pardon an entire stranger for breaking in on you so informally—but—but I can't—I can't help it. I must tell some one."
Accustomed as she was now to strange confidences, Constance bent over and patted the little hand of Mrs. Noble comfortingly.
"You seemed to take it so coolly," went on the other woman. "For me the glamour, the excitement are worse than champagne. But you could stop, even when you were winning. Oh, my God! What am I to do? What will happen when my husband finds out what I have done!" ”

“ With a force that was almost masculine, Constance took the girl by both shoulders.
"The one thousand dollar reward which comes to me," said Constance decisively, "will help us—straighten out those few little matters with Preston. Mrs. Palmer can stretch the time which you have worked for her."
Something of Constance's will seemed to be infused into Florence Gibbons by force of suggestion.
"And remember," Constance added in a tense voice, "for anything after your elopement—it's aphasia, aphasia, aphasia!" ”

“ He was about to take her hand, but she rose. "No, Graeme. Not now. There is work—the crisis. No, I must go. Trust me."
It was not until noon of the next day that he saw Constance again. There was an air of suppressed excitement about her as she entered the apartment and placed on a table before him a small oblong box of black enameled metal, beneath which was a roll of paper. Above was another somewhat similar box with another roll of paper.
Constance attached the instrument to the telephone, an enigmatical conversation followed, and she hung up the receiver. ”

“ 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. ”

“ Warrington was speechless. He saw them all against him, Vera, Braden, Stella, Drummond.
"More than that," added Constance, "nothing that you can ever do can equal the patience, the faith of the little woman I saw here to-day, slaving, yes, slaving for beauty. Here in my hand, in these scraps of paper, I hold your old life,—not part of it, but all of it," she emphasized. "You have your chance. Will you take it?" ”

“ Bella was as calm as a good player with a royal straight flush.
"I've caught you at last," fairly hissed Drummond. "And you, too, Mrs. Dunlap. Watson, I overheard something about some stock. Let me see it. I think it will interest International Surety as well as Exporters and Manufacturers."
Through the still open door Constance had darted across the hall to her apartment.
"Not so fast," cried Drummond. "You can't escape. The front door is guarded. You can't get out." ”

“ Constance made her way around to Stella's dressing room.
She had scarcely been welcomed by Stella, whose cheeks beneath the grease paint were now genuinely ablaze with excitement, when a man entered. He was tall, spare, the type whose very bow is ingratiating and whose "delighted, I assure you" is suave and compelling.
Alfred Warrington seemed to be on very good terms indeed with Stella as she introduced him to Constance.
"You will join us, Mrs. Dunlap?" he asked, throwing an opera cloak over Stella's shoulders. "Vera Charmant and Jack Braden are waiting for us at the Little Montmartre." ”

“ Quite naturally, Constance observed, her neighbor had hosts of friends who often came early and stayed late, friends who seemed to exude, as it were, an air of prosperity and high living. Clearly, she was a woman to cultivate. Constance felt even more interest in her, now that Mrs. LeMar had pursued a bowing acquaintance to the point of an unsolicited invitation.
"A friendly little game," she speculated. "What IS the game?"
That night found Constance at the buzzer beside the heavy mahogany
door across the hall. She wore a new evening gown of warm red. ”

“ 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. ”

“ The door opened. Beverley was pale and haggard, Dumont worn and silent. He could scarcely talk. Dodge again held the door for Constance as she swept past the amazed accountant.
All eyes were now fixed on Dumont as chief spokesman.
"He has made a satisfactory explanation," was all he said.
"I would lock all that stuff up in the strongest safe deposit vault in New York," remarked Constance, laying the evidence that involved them all on Murray's desk. "It is your only safeguard." ”

“ Dunlap," he remarked earnestly, "who needs your help even more than I do."
It had cost him something to say that. He had not been able to accept her help, even under false pretenses. Eagerly he watched to see whether jealousy of the other woman played any part with her.
"I understand," she said with a hasty glance at her watch and a covert look at Drummond. "Let us go. If we are to win we must keep our heads clear. I shall see you to-morrow."
For hours during the rest of the night Constance tossed fitfully in half sleep, thinking over the problem she had assumed. ”

“ Dunlap," she cried, pausing before Constance, "to-day I am nothing more nor less than a 'capper,' as they call it, for a gambling resort."
She was almost hysterical. The contrast with the gay, respectable, prosperous-looking woman at Bella's was appalling. Constance realized to the full what were the tragedies that were enacted elsewhere.
As she looked at the despairing woman, she could reconstruct the terrible situation. Cultivated, well-bred, fashionably gowned, a woman like Mrs. Noble served admirably the purpose of luring men on. ”

“ There were four kings.
"I win," ground out Watson viciously, as he tossed down four aces.
Constance was on her feet in a moment.
"You are a lot of cheats and swindlers," she cried, seizing the cards before any one could interfere.
Deftly she laid out the four aces beside the four deuces, the four kings beside the four queens. It was done so quickly that even Halsey, in his amazement, could find nothing to say. Mrs. Noble paled and was speechless. As for Bella and Watson, nothing could have aroused them more than the open charge that they were using false devices. ”

“ Stella Larue was crying into a lace handkerchief. "You—you are all—against me," she sobbed. "What have I done?"
"Nothing," soothed Constance, patting her shoulder. "As for Charmant and Drummond, they are tied by these proofs," she added, tapping the papers with the prints, then picking them up and handing them to Warrington. "I think if the story were told to the directors at the Prince Henry to-night with reporters waiting downstairs in the lobby, it might produce a quieting effect." ”

“ Constance entered and sat down.
"Is the manager in?" she asked of the waitress.
"Mrs. Palmer? No. But, if you care to wait, I think she'll be back directly."
As Constance sat toying absently with some food at one of the snowy white tables, a man entered. A man in a tea room is an anomaly. For the tea room is a woman's institution, run by women for women. Men enter with diffidence, and seldom alone. This man was quite evidently looking for some one.
His eye fell on Constance. Her heart gave a leap. It was her old enemy, Drummond, the detective. ”

“ Constance hesitated. Dr. Moreland Price was a well-known physician. All day and even at night, she knew, automobiles and cabs rolled up to his door and their occupants were, for the most part, stylishly gowned women.
"Oh, come on," urged Adele. "He doesn't charge as highly as people seem to think. Besides, I'll go with you and introduce you, and he'll charge only as he does the rest of us in the profession."
Constance's head throbbed frantically. She felt that she must have some relief soon. "All right," she agreed, "I'll go with you, and thank you, Adele." ”

“ It was evident that the Captain was much impressed by Constance. Yet she instinctively disliked the man. His cameraderie had something offensive about it, as contrasted with the deferential friendship of Santos.
With all her energy, however, Constance plunged directly into her work. Indeed, even at the start she was amazed to find that money for a revolution could be raised at all. She soon, found that it could be done more easily in New York than anywhere else in the world. ”

“ I have no reason to want to make you—"
An office boy tapped on the door and entered. "Mr. Brainard wants you, Miss Dunlap."
"I cannot explain now," resumed Constance. "Won't you sit here at my desk and listen over the microphone to what happens!"
She was gone before Mrs. Brainard could reply. What did it all mean? Sybil put the black disc receiver to her ear as she had seen Constance do. Her hand trembled. "Why did she tell me that?" she murmured.
"You can't prove it," shouted a voice through the black disc at her ear. She was startled. It was the voice of Worthington. ”

“ Can't I be your private secretary?"
"Consider yourself engaged. Name your figure—after it is over. My record on the Streets speaks for how I stand by those who stand by me. But I hate a quitter."
"So do I," exclaimed Constance, rising and giving him her hand in a straight-arm shake that made Brainard straighten himself and look down into her face with unconcealed admiration.
The next morning Constance became private secretary to the president of the Motor Trust.
"You will be 'Miss' Dunlap," remarked Brainard. "It sounds more plausible." ”

“ Lawrence Macey met her eye unflinchingly.
"Suppose," he drawled, "just for the sake of argument, that you are right. What would you do?"
Constance looked at the unruffled exterior of the man. With her keen perception she knew that it covered just as calm an interior. He would have said the same thing if she had been a real detective, had walked up behind him suddenly in the subway crush, had tapped his shoulder, and whispered, "You're wanted."
"We are dealing with facts, not suppositions," she replied evasively. ”

“ THE EAVESDROPPERS "I suppose you have heard something about the troubles of the Motor Trust? The other directors, you know, are trying to force me out."
Rodman Brainard, president of the big Motor Corporation, searched the magnetic depths of the big brown eyes of the woman beside his desk. Talking to Constance Dunlap was not like talking to other women he had known, either socially or in business.
"A friend of yours, and of mine," he added frankly, "has told me enough about you to convince me that you are more than an amateur at getting people out of tight places. ”

“ 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. ”

“ It was the code, telling of the safe arrival of the rifles, cartridges and the counterfeiting plant in New Orleans, a little late, but safe. "Sell cotton," meant "I sail to-night."
On the way over to the Junta, she had noticed one of Drummond's shadows dogging her. She must do anything to keep the secret until that night.
She hurried into the dusty ship chandlery. There was Gordon.
"Good morning, Mrs. Dunlap," he cried. "You are just the person I am looking for. Where is Santos? Has the plan been changed?"
Constance thought she detected a shade of jealousy in the tone. ”

“ There was something about Haddon Halsey that interested her. Perhaps Bella and Watson exchanged a knowing glance as she crossed the hall for her wraps. Whatever it was, Constance determined to see the thing through to a finish, confident that she was quite able to take care of herself.
Outside the raw night air smote dankly on their fevered faces. As they walked along briskly, too glad to get into the open to summon a car, Constance happened to turn. ”

“ Again the salesgirl nodded.
"Do you remember anything else that happened?" he asked Constance as they faced Kitty Carr and he handed Constance the ring.
Constance looked the detective squarely in the face for a moment.
"I have my ring. You have the other stuff," she murmured. "Besides, there is no record against her. She doesn't even look like a professional bad character. No—I'll not appear to press the charge—I'll make it as hard as I can before I'll do it," she added positively. ”

“ She had found out that it was a curious twist in feminine psychology that the lie under such circumstances was a virtue, that it showed that there was hope for such a woman. Admission of the truth, even to a friend, would have shown that the woman was hopelessly lost. Lie or not, Constance felt in her inmost heart that she approved of it.
"Still, it looks badly," she remarked.
"Perhaps it does—on the surface," persisted Anita.
"You poor dear creature," soothed Constance. "I don't say I blame you for your—indiscreet friendships. You are more sinned against than sinning." ”

“ Time had not softened the bitterness of Constance's feelings. Somehow she felt that the world, or at least society owed her for taking away her husband. The world must pay. She sympathized with the young man who was appealing to her for friendship. Why not help him?
"Do you really, really want to know what I think?" asked Constance after he had at last told her his wretched story. It was the first time that she had looked at him since she realized that he was unburdening the truth to her.
"Yes," he answered eagerly, catching her eye. "Yes," he urged. ”