Alfred Warrington seemed to be on very good terms indeed with Stella as she introduced him to Constance.
"You will join us, Mrs. Dunlap?" he asked, throwing an opera cloak over Stella's shoulders. "Vera Charmant and Jack Braden are waiting for us at the Little Montmartre."
As he mentioned the famous cabaret, Constance took a little tighter grip on herself and decided to take the plunge and see the affair out, although that sort of thing had very little attraction for her.
They were leaving the theater when she saw lurking in the crowd the familiar figure of Drummond. She turned her head quickly and sank back into the dark recesses of the limousine.
Should she tell them now about him?
She leaned over to Warrington. "I saw a man in the crowd just now who seemed to be quite interested in us," she said quickly. "Can't we drive around a bit to throw him off if he should get into a cab?"
Warrington looked at her keenly. It was quite evident that he thought it was Constance who was being followed, not Stella or himself. Constance decided quickly to say nothing more that would prejudice Stella, but as Warrington directed his driver to run up through the park she saw that, far from alarming him, the words had only added a zest of mystery about herself.
They left the Park and the car jolted them quickly now over the uneven asphalt to the palace of pleasure, where already the two advance guards were holding one of the best tables in a house crowded with all classes from debutantes to debauchees.
"Diamond Jack" Braden was a heavy-set man with a debonnaire, dapper way about him. He wore a flower in his buttonhole, a smart touch which seemed very fetching, evidently, to the artistic Vera.
Constance fell to studying him, as she did all men and women. "His hands betray him," she said to herself, as she was introduced.