That was his weak point and she had picked it out infallibly.

Whatever his suspicions, he had been able to prove nothing, though he suspected much in the buying and selling of Constance.
A week of bitterness, of a constant struggle against the wiles of one of the most subtle sleuths followed, avoiding hidden traps that beset her on every side.

Was this to be the end of it all?
Was Drummond's heroic effort to entangle her to succeed at last?
She felt that a watch of the most extraordinary kind was set on her, an invisible net woven about her.

Eyes that never slept were upon her; there was no minute in her regular haunts that she was not guarded.

She knew it, though she could not see it.
It was a war of subtle wits.