ere is something I'd like to say," she repeated gently.

She picked up a little inking pad which lay on a mahogany secretary
which Vera used as an office desk.

"If you will be so kind, Stella, as to place your fingers flat on this
pad-never mind about the ink; call Floretta; she will wipe them off
afterwards-and then on this piece of paper, I won't bother you further."

Almost before she knew it, the little actress had placed her dainty
white hand on the pad and then on the paper.

Constance did the same, to illustrate, then called Floretta. "If Vera
will do as I have done," she said, offering her the pad, and taking her
hand. Charmant complied, and when Floretta arrived her impressions were
added to the others.

"There's a man wishes to see you, outside, Madame," said Floretta,
wiping off the soiled finger tips.

"Tell him to wait--in the little room."

Floretta opened the door to go out and through it Constance caught
sight of a familiar face.

A moment later the man was in the room with them. It was Drummond, the
same sneer, the same assurance in his manner.

"So," he snarled at Constance. "You here?"

"I seem to be here," she answered calmly. "Why?"

"Never mind why," he blustered. "I knew you saw me the other night. I
heard you tell 'em to hit it up so as to shake me. But I found out all
right."

"Found out what?" asked Constance coldly.

"Say, that's about your style, isn't it? You always get in when it
comes to trimming the good spenders, don't you?"

"Mr. Drummond," she replied, "I don't care to talk to you."

"You don't, hey? Well, perhaps, when the time comes you'll have to
talk. How about that?"

She was thinking rapidly. Was Mrs. Warrington preparing to strike a
blow that would be the last impulse necessary to send the plunger down
for the last time? She decided to take a chance, to temporize until
some one else made a move.

"I'd thank you to place your fingers on this pad," said Constance
quietly. "I'm making a collection of these things."

"You are, are you?"

"Yes," she cut short. "And if my collection isn't large enough I shall
call up Mrs. Warrington and ask her to come over, too," she added
significantly.

Floretta entered again. "Please wipe the ink off Mr. Drummond's
fingers," ordered Constance quietly, still holding out the pad.

"Confound your impudence," he ground out, seizing the pad. "There! What
do you mean by Mrs. Warrington? What has she to do with this? Have a
c