Constance looked the detective squarely in the face for a moment.
"I have my ring. You have the other stuff," she murmured. "Besides, there is no record against her. She doesn't even look like a professional bad character. No—I'll not appear to press the charge—I'll make it as hard as I can before I'll do it," she added positively.
The woman, who had overheard, looked her gratitude. The detectives were preparing to argue. Constance hardly knew what she was saying, as she hurried on before any one else could speak.
"No," she added, "but I'll tell you what I will do. If you will let her go I will look after her. Parole her, unofficially, with me."
Constance drew a card from her case and handed it to the detective. He read it carefully, and a puzzled look came over his face. "Charge account—good customer—pays promptly," he muttered under his breath.
For a moment he hesitated. Then he sat down at a desk.
"Mrs. Dunlap," he said, "I'll do it."
He pulled a piece of printed paper from the desk, filled in a few blanks, then turned to Kitty Carr, handing her a pen.
"Sign here," he said brusquely.
Constance bent over and read. It was a form of release: