In seeing her thus, McKenna comprehended at once that she had prepared herself for Slade; but so daring was the effect of the seduction which she had barbarically planned to tantalize the financier, that McKenna himself felt the effect with a little nervous, conscious dropping of his eyes. The movement did not escape her, and not disdaining the tribute she smiled to herself a quick, feline little smile. "You, McKenna?" she said. "You are prompt." "I came immediately." "I was waiting for you." They stood a few feet apart in the middle of the studio studying each other, as two fencers take their measure before joining their swords. "You were at your office then?" she said the first. "Yes, I came up in Mr. Beecher’s car." "Mr. Beecher was with you?" "Yes." "I sent him—" "A letter, yes. He received it at my office." "But why didn’t he come up with you?" "I asked him to give me half an hour here with you." "That was better," she said firmly. All the undisciplined impulses that had been stirring, gradually seemed to subside as she watched him, warily drawing about her an invisible defense. "Here is the ring," she said suddenly, extending her arm with a gesture that was no longer languid and feminine, but forceful and controlled. "I’d like to see it," he said. She drew it from her finger and held it out to him. He laid it in his palm and studied it profoundly. "What is it worth?" he asked. "Over thirty thousand dollars." "Ah," he said quickly. "Beecher told me you said fifteen thousand." She looked at him from under her eyelids. "I have just learned its value." "Remarkable—a splendid stone. It has had quite a history," he said, handing it back to her and watching it return to her finger. "Let’s hope it will stay there quietly for some time." "You know its story?" "From the beginning. It will interest you. I’ll send it to you." "Do." The last replies she had given were mechanical, her whole mind focused on him, alert for any sudden turn to her advantage, seeking to penetrate the tactics he would employ. "You kept away—on purpose," she said abruptly. "That’s so." "Why?" "Well, call it a matter of vanity," he said. "In what way?" "You excited my curiosity—you were a little too clever in our last interview." "So you kept on with your investigations?" "Yes." "Successful?" she said lightly. "Very." "Indeed? Do you know who took the ring?" "The first time? No." She stopped, looked at him intently, and said: "The second time then?" "Yes, I know who took it the second time." "Who?" "You." She laughed without confusion and, turning from him, went toward the fireplace, resting one bare arm on the mantel, the red splash of the ruby showing like a flare of anger against her cheek. She looked back at McKenna, who had not moved, saying with an admonishing shake of her head: "McKenna, you are guessing." "It’s a good guess." "Let me hear your theory." "It is not a theory today." "Indeed?"