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“What about A
“I have taken care of that,” he replied harshly. “She is already under arrest, and from what I have heard we may get something on her now. We have a record against the Carr girl. We can use it against her friend. We’re just about taking her to the flat to identify the Grayson woman. Would you like to come along?” he added in a spirit of bravado. “I think you are a material witness in the Stacy case, anyhow.”
Constance felt bitterly her defeat. Still she went with them. There was always a chance that something might turn up.
As they entered the door of the kitchenette loud voices told them that some one was disputing inside.
Drummond strode in.
The sight of a huge pile of stuff that two strange men had drawn out of drawers and closets and stacked on the table riveted Constance ’s eyes. Only dimly she could hear that A
The stuff on the table was, in fact, quite enough to dazzle the eyes. There were articles of every sort and description there – silks, laces, jewellery and trinkets, little antiques, even rare books – everything small and portable, some of the richest and most exquisite, others of the cheapest and most tawdry. It was a truly remarkable collection, which the raiding detectives had brought to light.
As Constance took in the scene – the raiding detectives holding the stormy A
She had read of such things. A
Just then the woman caught sight of Constance standing in the doorway.
In an instant she had broken loose and ran toward her.
“What are you,” she hissed, “one of these department store Moll Dicks, too?”
Quick as a flash Kitty Carr had leaped to her feet and placed herself between them.
“No, A
“Little fool!” ground out A
“Here – here – LADIES!” interposed Drummond, protruding an arm between the two, and winking sarcastically to the two other men. “None of that. We shall need both of you in our business. I’ve no objection to your talking; but cut out the rough stuff.”
Constance had stepped back. She was cool, cool as Drummond, although she knew her heart was thumping like a sledge-hammer. There was Kitty Carr, in a revulsion of feeling, her hands pressed tightly to her head again, as if it were bursting. She was swaying as if she would faint.
Constance caught her gently about the waist and forced her down on the couch where she had been lying the night before. With her back to the others, she reached quickly into her hand-bag and pulled out the little instrument she had hastily stuffed into it. Deftly she fastened it to Kitty’s wrist and forearm.
She dropped down on her knees beside the poor girl, and gently stroked her free hand, reassuring her in a low tone.
“There, there,” she soothed. “You are not well, Kitty. Perhaps, after all, there may be something – some explanation.”
In spite of all, however, Kitty was on the verge of the wildest hysterics. A
Drummond came over, an exasperating sneer on his face. As he looked down he saw what Constance was doing, and she rose, so that all could see now.
“This girl,” she said, speaking rapidly, “is afflicted with a nervous physical disorder, a mania, which is uncontrollable, and takes this outlet. It is emotional insanity – not loss of control of the will, but perversion of the will.”
“Humph!” was Drummond’s sole comment with a significant glance at the pile of goods on the table.
“It is not the articles themselves so much,” went on Constance, following his glance, “as it is the pleasure, the excitement, the satisfaction – call it what you will – of taking them. A thief works for the benefit he may derive from objects stolen after he gets them. Here is a girl who apparently has no further use for an article after she gets it, who forgets, perhaps hates it.”
“Oh, yes,” remarked Drummond, “but why are they all so careful not to get caught? Every one is responsible who knows the nature and consequences of his act.”
Constance had wheeled about.
“That is not so,” she exclaimed. “Any modern alienist will tell you that. Sometimes the chief mark of insanity may be knowing the nature and consequences, craftily avoiding detection with an almost superhuman cu
As she spoke, she had quickly detached the little instrument and had placed it on A
“Such terms as kleptomania,” went on Constance, “are often regarded as excuses framed up by the experts to cover up plain ordinary stealing. But did you wiseacres of crime ever stop to think that perhaps they do actually exist?
“There are many things that distinguish such a woman as I have described to you from a common thief. There is the insane desire to steal – merely for stealing’s sake – a morbid craving. Of course in a sense it is stealing. But it is persistent, incorrigible, irrational, motiveless, useless.
“Stop and think about it a moment,” she concluded, lowering her voice and taking advantage of the very novelty of the situation she had created. “Such diseases are the product of civilization, of sensationalism. Naturally enough, then, woman, with her delicately balanced nervous organization, is the first and chief offender – if you insist on calling such a person an offender under your antiquated methods of dealing with such cases.”
She had paused.
“What did you say you called this thing?” asked Drummond as he tapped the arrangement on A
He was evidently not much impressed by it, yet somehow instinctively regarded it with somewhat of the feelings of an elephant toward a mouse.
“That?” answered Constance, taking it off A
She had placed it on Drummond’s arm. He appeared fascinated.
“See how it works?” she went on. “You see one hundred and twenty-five millimetres is the normal pressure. Kitty Carr is absolutely abnormal. I do not know, but I think that she suffers from periodical attacks of vertigo. Almost all kleptomaniacs do. During an attack they are utterly irresponsible.”
Drummond was looking at the thing carefully. Constance turned to A
“Where’s your husband?” she asked offhand.
“Oh, he disappeared as soon as these department store dicks showed up,” she replied bitterly. She had been watching Constance narrowly, quite nonplussed, and unable to make anything out of what was going on.