Her heart gave a leap.

It was her old enemy, Drummond, the detective.

For a moment he hesitated, then bowed, and came over to her table.
"Peculiar places, these tea rooms," observed Drummond.
Constance was doing some quick thinking.

Could this be the detective Florence Gibbons had mentioned?
"The only thing lacking to make them complete," he rattled on, "is a license.

Now, take those places that have a ladies' bar--that do openly what tea rooms do covertly.