CHAPTER VII.
THE PLUNGERS "They have the most select clientele in the city here." Constance Dunlap was sitting in the white steamy room of Charmant's Beauty Shop.

Her informant, reclining dreamily in a luxurious wicker chair, bathed in the perspiring vapor, had evidently taken a fancy to her.
"And no wonder, either; they fix you up so well," she rattled on; then confidingly, "Now, last night after the show a party of us went to supper and a dance--and it was in the wee small hours when we broke up.
But Madame here can make you all over again.

Floretta," she called to an attendant who had entered, "if Mr.Warrington calls up on the 'phone, say I'll call him later." "Yes, Miss Larue." Constance glanced up quickly as Floretta mentioned the name of the popular young actress.

Stella Larue was a pretty girl on whom the wild dissipation of the night life of New York was just beginning to show its effects.

The name of Warrington, too, recalled to Constance instantly some gossip she had heard in Wall Street about the disagreement in the board of directors of the new Rubber Syndicate and the effort to oust the president whose escapades were something more than mere whispers of scandal.
This was the woman in the case.