A moment later she stood by the open window facing the street, a bright little police whistle gleaming in her hand, ready for its shrill alarm if any move were made to cut short what she had to say.
She was speaking rapidly now.
"You see, I've had it on all of you, one after another, and each has told me your story, just enough of it for me to piece it together.
Kitty is suffering from a form of vertigo, an insanity, kleptomania, the real thing.

As for you, Mr.Drummond, you were in league with the alleged husband--your own stool pigeon--to catch Annie Grayson." Drummond moved.

So did the whistle.

He stopped.
"But she was too clever for you all.

She was not caught, even by a man who lived with her as her own husband.