At a distance of about half a block she followed the curiously shuffling figure.  He crossed the avenue, turned and went uptown, turned again, and, before she knew it, disappeared in a drug store.  She had been so engrossed in following the lobbygow that it was with a start that she realized that he had entered Muller’s.

What did it all mean?  Was the druggist, Muller, the man higher up?  She recalled suddenly her own experience of the afternoon.  Had Muller tried to palm off something on her?  The more she thought of it the more sure she was that the powders she had taken had been doped.

Slowly, turning the matter over in her mind, she returned to the Mayfair.  As she peered in cautiously before entering she saw that Drummond had gone.  Adele had not come in yet, and she went in and sat down again in her old place.

Perhaps half an hour later, outside, she heard a car drive up with a furious rattle of gears.  She looked out of the window and, as far as she could determine in the shadows, it was Dr. Price.  A woman got out, Adele.  For a moment she stopped to talk, then Dr. Price waved a gay good-bye and was off.  All she could catch was a hasty, “No; I don’t think I’d better come in to-night,” from him.

As Adele entered the Mayfair she glanced about, caught sight of Constance and came and sat down by her.

It would have been impossible for her to enter unobserved, so popular was she.  It was not long before the two girls whom Constance had seen dealing with “Sleighbells” sauntered over.

“Your friend was here to-night,” remarked one to Adele.

“Which one?” laughed Adele.

“The one who admired your dancing the other night and wanted to take lessons.”

“You mean the young fellow who was selling something?” asked Constance pointedly.

“Oh, no,” returned the girl quite casually.  “That was Sleighbells,” and they all laughed.

Constance thought immediately of Drummond.  “The other one, then,” she said, “the thick-set man who was all alone!”

“Yes; he went away afterward.  Do you know him?”

“I’ve seen him somewhere,” evaded Constance; “but I just can’t quite place him.”

She had not noticed Adele particularly until now.  Under the light she had a peculiar worn look, the same as she had had before.

The waiter came up to them.  “Your turn is next,” he hinted to Adele.

“Excuse me a minute,” she apologized to the rest of the party.  “I must fix up a bit.  No,” she added to Constance, “don’t come with me.”

She returned from the dressing room a different person, and plunged into the wild dance for which the limited orchestra was already tuning up.  It was a veritable riot of whirl and rhythm.  Never before had Constance seen Adele dance with such abandon.  As she executed the wild mazes of a newly imported dance, she held even the jaded Mayfair spellbound.  And when she concluded with one daring figure and sat down, flushed and excited, the diners applauded and even shouted approval.  It was an event for even the dance-mad Mayfair.