"Yes, I know that," said McKenna, who felt that the surprise he had experienced at having the tables thus turned on him had revealed the truth to the questioner. "That is, I know the ring did belong to Mr. Slade." "Have you informed Mr. Beecher of the fact?" "It has just come to my knowledge," said McKenna; "I shall, naturally, inform him." Mrs. Kildair looked at him a moment with an appearance of reflection. "The question was quite unnecessary," she said. "Of course, you have told him, and you have every right to deny it." Then she continued with more decision: "This is exactly my danger—you see, I won’t mince words. It is a situation which constantly occurs, and which is inexplicable except by one construction in the eyes of society. Now—" "I warn you," again objected the detective. "I do not propose to explain my relations with Mr. Slade," continued Mrs. Kildair coldly. "They are such that a great deal depends on the events of the next few days. At present it is enough that I can not explain my possession of the ring in any way that can satisfy publicity." "Mr. Slade did not give you the ring?" said McKenna, in slow progression. She carefully considered the question. "Mr. Slade sent me the ring with an offer of marriage," said Mrs. Kildair evenly, with an appearance of great frankness. "The ring arrived on the night of the party, and I committed the imprudence of wearing it. If its source now becomes known, I must appear before the world either as Mr. Slade’s mistress or as his fiancée; and at present I have not made up my mind whether I shall marry him." The directness of this avowal left McKenna immersed in thought. He looked at her, unaware of the fixity of his stare; and, inclined as always to skepticism, he asked himself if back of all the outer gilt of this proud, determined woman, there were not a stalking shadow of insistent poverty, whether the game she was playing with Slade were not a greater drama than that in which he was engaged; whether, in fact, it lay not on a turn of the balance whether the world should know her as the wife or that very alternative which she had dreaded in the exposure of the ownership of the ring? "What does she really want of Slade?" he said to himself, staring so profoundly beyond the set gaze of the woman that, for the first time, she moved with a little annoyance. "Mr. McKenna!" she said sharply. "I beg your pardon," he said, stiffening abruptly. "You perceive now the delicacy of my position," she said; "and why I desire to have you completely in my interests." "I do," he answered, but still clinging to the saving rope of defiance. "I only regret that you told me this before Mr. Beecher’s—" "Now ask me any questions you wish," she said, interrupting him impatiently. "I don’t feel at liberty to do so, Mrs. Kildair," he said warily, convinced that her whole motive was to find out the extent of his knowledge. "I prefer to know first where I stand."