Legendary Women Detectives

“Depend on me,” answered Mrs. Grayson, “and I want to add my thanks to Kitty’s for what you have done. I’ll try to help you.”

As she groped her way down the as yet unlighted stairs, Constance became aware of two men talking in the hall. As she passed them she thought she recognized one of the voices. She lowered her head, and fortunately her thin veil in the half-light did the rest. She passed u

As she opened it she heard the men turn and mount the stairs. Instinctively she realized that something was wrong. One of the men was her old enemy, Drummond, the detective.

They had not recognized her, and as she stood for a moment with her hand on the knob, she tried to reason it out. Then she crept back, and climbed the stairs noiselessly. Voices inside the apartment told her that she had not been mistaken. It was the apartment of the Graysons and Kitty that they sought.

The hall door was of thin, light wood, and as she stood there she could easily hear what passed inside.

“What – is Kitty ill?” she heard the strange man’s voice inquire.

“Yes,” replied Mrs. Grayson, then her voice trailed off into an indistinguishable whisper.

“How are you, Kitty?” asked the man.

“Oh, I have a splitting headache, Jim. I’ve had it all day. I could just get up and – screech!”

“I’m sorry. I hope it gets better soon.”

“Oh, I guess it will. They often go away as suddenly as they come. You know I’ve had them before.”

Drummond’s voice then spoke up.

“Did you see the Trimble ad tonight?” he asked, evidently of A

“No, I didn’t see the papers,” replied A

There was the rustle of a newspaper.

“Here’s a picture of it. It must be great. I’ve heard a good deal about it.”

“Have you seen it?” asked A

“No, but I intend to see it.”

They had passed into the next room, and Constance, fearing to be discovered, decided to get away before that happened.

Early the next morning she decided to call on Kitty, but by the time Constance arrived at the apartment it was closed, and a neighbour informed her that the two women had gone out together about half an hour before.

Constance was nervous and, as she left the apartment, she did not notice that a man who had been loitering about had quickened his pace and overtaken her.

“So,” drawled a voice, “you’re travelling with shoplifters now.”

She looked up quickly. This time she had run squarely into Drummond. There was no concealment possible now. Her only refuge was silence. She felt the hot tingle of indignation in her cheeks. But she said nothing.

“Huh!” exclaimed Drummond, walking along beside her, and adding contemptuously, “I don’t know the young one, but you know who the other is?”

Constance bit her lip.

“No?” he queried. “Then I’ll show you.”

He had taken from his pocket a bunch of oblong cards. Each bore, she could see from the corner of her eye, a full face and a profile picture of a woman, and on the back of the card was a little writing.

He selected one and handed it to Constance. Instantly she recognized the face. It was A

“There!” he fairly snorted. “That’s the sort of people your little friend consorts with. Why, they call A

Constance longed to ask him what had taken him to the Grayson flat the night before, but thought better of it. There was no use in angering Drummond further. Instead, she let him think that he had succeeded in frightening her off.

She went back to her own apartment to wait and worry. Evidently Drummond was pretty sure of something, or he would not have disclosed his hand to her, even partially. She felt that she must see Kitty before it was too late. Then the thought crossed her mind that perhaps already it was too late. Drummond evidently was working in some way for an alliance of the department stores outside.

Constance had had her own ideas about Kitty. And as she waited and watched, she tried to reason how she might carry them out if she had a chance.

She had just been insured, and had been very much interested in the various tests that the woman doctor of the insurance company had applied to her. One in particular which involved the use of a little simple instrument that fitted over the forearm had interested her particularly. She had talked to the doctor about it, and as she talked an idea had occurred to her that it might have other uses than those which the doctor made of it. She had bought one. While she was waiting it occurred to her that perhaps it might serve her purpose. She got the instrument out. It consisted of a little arrangement that fitted over the forearm, and was attached by a tube to a dial that registered in millimetres a column of mercury. Would it really show anything, she wondered?

There was a quick call on the telephone and she answered it, her hand trembling, for she felt sure that it was something about the little woman she had befriended.

Somehow or other her voice hardened as she answered the call and found that it was from Drummond. It would never do to betray even nervousness before him.

“Your friend, Miss Carr,” shot out Drummond with brutal directness, “has been caught again. She fell into something as neatly as if she had really meant to do it. Yesterday, you know, Trimble’s advertised the new diamond, the Arkansas Queen, on exhibition. Well, it was made of paste, anyway. But it was a perfect imitation. But that didn’t make any difference. We caught Kitty just now trying to lift it. I’m sorry it wasn’t the other one. But small fry are better than none. We’ll get her, too, yet. Besides, I find this Kitty has a record already at Stacy’s.”

He added the last words with a taunting sneer. Constance realized suddenly the truth. The whole affair had been a plant of Drummond’s!

“You are at Trimble’s?” she inquired quickly. “Well, can you wait there just a few minutes? I’d like to see Miss Carr.”

Drummond promised. His acquiescence in itself boded no good, but nevertheless she decided to go. As she left her apartment hurriedly she picked up the little instrument and dropped it into her hand-bag.

“You see, it’s no use,” almost chortled Drummond as Constance stepped off the elevator and opened the door to a little room at Trimble’s much like that which she had already seen at Stacy’s. “A shoplifter becomes habitual after twenty-five. They get to consorting with others of their kind.”

Kitty was sitting rigidly motionless in a chair, staring straight ahead, as Constance entered. She gave a start at the sight of a familiar face, rose, and would almost have fainted if Constance had not caught her. It seemed as if something had snapped in the girl’s make-up. For the first time tears came. Constance patted her hand softly. The girl was an enigma. Was she a clever actress – one minute hardened Miss Sophisticated, the next appealing Miss I

“How did you – catch her?” asked Constance a moment later as she found an opportunity to talk to Drummond alone.

“Oh, she was trying to substitute a paste replica for the alleged Arkansas Queen. The clerk noticed the replica in time, saw a little spot of carbon on it – and she was shadowed and arrested just as she was leaving the store. Yes, they found the other paste jewel on her. She was caught with the goods.”

“Replica?” repeated Constance, thinking of the picture that had appeared in the papers the night before. “How could she get a replica of it?”

“How do I know?” shrugged Drummond coldly.

Constance looked him squarely in the eyes.