d never have happened--I
should never have been caught again, for I should never have given them
a chance to get it on me."

"Little fool!" ground out Annie Grayson, raising her arm.

"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. Annie Grayson sniffed contemptuously at such weakness.

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.