Constance was fingering the switch of the telegraphone.
"Drummond," remarked Constance significantly, as though other secrets might still be contained in the marvelous little mechanical detective, "Drummond, don't you think, for the sake of your own reputation as a detective, it might be as well to keep this thing quiet ?" For a moment the detective gripped his wrath and seemed to consider the damaging record of his conversation with Bella LeMar.
"Perhaps," he agreed sullenly.
Constance reached into her chatelaine.

From it she drew an ordinary magnet, and slowly pulled off the armature.
"If I run this over the wires," she hinted, holding it near the spools, "the record will be wiped out." She paused impressively.

"Let me have those I O U's of Mrs.Noble's.

By the way, you might as well give me that blank stock, too.

There is no use in that, now." As she laid the papers in a pile on the table before her she added the old forged certificates from Halsey's pocket.