last words defiantly. Constance listened eagerly, though
she did not betray it.

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."

Sympathy had its effect. Anita was now sobbing softly, as Constance
stole her arm about her waist.

"The next question," she reasoned, considering aloud, "is, of course,
what to do? If it was just one of these blackmailing detective cases it
would be common, but still very hard to deal with. There's a lot of
such blackmailing going on in New York. Next to business and political
cases, I suppose, it is the private detective's most important graft.
Nearly everybody has a past--although few are willing to admit it. The
graft lies in the fact that people talk so much, are so indiscreet,
take such reckless chances. It's a wonder, really, that there isn't
more of it."

"Yet there is the--evidence, as he called it--my letters to Lynn--and
the reports that that woman must have made of our--our conversations,"
groaned Anita. "How they may distort it all!"

Constance was thinking rapidly.

"It is now after four o'clock," she said finally, looking at her wrist
watch. "You say it was not half an hour ago that Drummond called on
you. He must be downtown about now. Your husband will hardly have a
chance more than to glance over the papers this afternoon."

Suddenly an idea seemed to occur to her. "What do you suppose he will
do with them?" she asked.

Mrs. Douglas looked up through her tears, calmer. "He is very
methodical," she answered slowly. "If I know him rightly, I think he
will probably go out to Glenclair with them to-night, to look them
over."

"Where will he keep them?" broke in Constance suddenly.

"He has a little safe in the library out there where he keeps all such
personal papers. I shouldn't be surprised if he looked them over and
locked them up there until he intends to use them at least until
morning."

"I have a plan," exclaimed Constance excit