The transfer of the candelabrum to the further table had left those of the diners who had remained by the dinner-table in half obscurity. Instantly there was a shifting and a dragging of chairs, a confused jumble of questions and explanations. Nan Charters for the second time seized the arm of Teddy Beecher. She murmured something which he did not hear. He glanced at her face, and for a moment an incredible suspicion crossed his mind. But the next, as he glanced down the table at the totally unnerved attitude of Mrs. Cheever and Mrs. Bloodgood, he understood better the agitation of his companion. "Do you suspect any one?" he whispered, by an impulse that seemed to spring into his mind. The young actress turned to him with almost an expression of terror in her eyes, which at the same time implored him to be silent. "She knows something," he thought, with a somber feeling. His own face was flushed. He felt that to all he must appear guilty. "Every one feels the same," he thought, looking again at his companion, who was gazing with almost frightened intensity straight ahead of her. He followed her glance, and saw that the object of her gaze was none other than Mrs. Enos Bloodgood, who still held her hand pressed over her breast, her lips parted as though suffocating with emotion. But, before he had time even to consider the bearing of this discovery, Mrs. Kildair’s voice, firm and unrelenting, cut short the confusion. "Every one come to this table, please. Take your places here," she said, and to emphasize the command she rapped sharply for order. In the bustle that took place, Beecher was separated from Miss Charters, and when he found himself at the table she was opposite him, her eyes on the table. "Can you make a little room?" he heard Maud Lille’s low voice say, and, drawing away from Cheever, who was on his right, he allowed the journalist to take her place beside him. Majendie was on the left of Mrs. Kildair, Slade next to him, sweeping the table slowly with his direct, lowering glance, his lips slightly pursed. Bloodgood, his hands sunk in his pockets, stared bullishly ahead, while between Cheever and his wife there passed a covert, terrible glance of interrogation. Garraboy, with his hands locked over his chin, arms folded, looked straight ahead staring fixedly at his hostess. Mrs. Kildair, having assured herself that all was arranged as she desired, blew out two of the three candles, which suddenly caused the eyes on the dim faces to stand out in startled relief. "I shall count one hundred—no more, no less," she said quietly. "Either the ring is returned or every one in this room is to be searched. Remember." She motioned to Slade, who, leaning over, blew out the remaining candle, while a little hysterical cry was heard from Mrs. Cheever. The wick shone a moment with a hot, glowing spire, and then everything was black. Mrs. Kildair began to count. "One—two—three—four—five—six—seven—eight—nine—ten—"