All at once she realized the full disaster of the situation. Slade would never believe her; and yet, how was it possible to admit before others who had lent her the ring? "What could I say to him?" she thought desperately. "No, no; I must have the ring back, whatever happens. I won’t give him that hold. I must get it back—some way—somehow." And mechanically, deliberately, she continued to pace back and forth, her clenched hand beating the deliberate, rhythmic measure of her journey. In the studio, meanwhile, under the gay leadership of Majendie and Nan Charters, the spirits of the company began to rise. The rival chefs were surrounded by anxious admirers, who shouted laughing instructions or protested with mock agony against the shower of red pepper. The ceremony had served to bring Beecher and Nan Charters on terms of sympathetic familiarity. The young actress had the secret of what is meant by that much abused word—charm. Her vivacious movements were all charming. The eagerness with which her eyes seized the excitement of the moment, the soft and yet animated tones of her voice, the most casual gesture she made, or the most evident reply, all seemed invested with a peculiar charm which was at the same time a delight in pleasure and a happiness in the consciousness of pleasing. Beecher did not or could not conceal the empire she had so suddenly acquired over his imagination, while Nan Charters, quite aware of what was happening, laughingly provoked him further, a little excited beyond the emotions of an ordinary flirtation. During the progress of this personal duel, which, however, every one perceived with different emotions, Slade, placed at the middle of the table, followed only the expressions of Bernard Majendie, his scrutiny at times becoming so insistently profound that the banker several times noticed it with a swift glance of annoyed interrogation, which, however, did not alter in the least the fixity of the other’s gaze. Meanwhile, two or three conversations, expressed in snatched phrases, took place between those whose interests in the stock market were put in jeopardy by the mystery as to Majendie’s fate. "There’ll be a rush of the shorts to cover tomorrow, if this is true," said Cheever in a low whisper to his wife. "Pump Mrs. Bloodgood all you can." "How quick do you suppose they’ll give the news out?" said Bloodgood to Garraboy. "It means a buying movement as soon as they do." "Any paper may have the news tomorrow," said the broker, and the glass that he took from the punch-table shook as he raised it. "Do you think Slade knows?" "I’m not sure—but I think he does," said Garraboy carefully. "Better meet me at the Waldorf at eleven. I’ll get another line on it by then." "Why the deuce should he pull through?" said Bloodgood, with a quick, dull fury.