The young woman checked herself, faltering a little, and entered the bedroom, where, for a moment, could be seen the drab figure of another woman, ornamented by a little toque with a red feather. "Mrs. Kildair," said Majendie, rising, "it is equally important for me to leave as soon as possible. While I know that I ask a favor, possibly all of you know that my affairs are at a vital stage, and I should appreciate it very much if there were no objection to my being examined the next." He turned, with a courteous bow, as he concluded. "I am perfectly willing," said Beecher at once. "I am not," said Bloodgood, while Cheever made a gesture of dissent. "Nor I," said Garraboy. "I have my own appointment, that means a great deal to me. I regret that I cannot accede to Mr. Majendie’s request." "These gentlemen are quite within their rights," said Majendie, accepting the refusal with the same courtesy. He thanked Beecher with a smile, and added: "If you are willing, Mrs. Kildair, shall we draw lots for it?" "Quite so," said Mrs. Kildair, and she arranged four slips in her fingers and tendered them. Majendie drew the longest, and was, therefore, forced to wait until Garraboy, Bloodgood, and Cheever had passed ahead. He glanced at the clock with a sudden, uneasy look, and returned to his chair: but, for the first time, a frown appeared on his face, while his fingers tore into bits the slip of paper, which he did not notice he had retained. Beecher was unpleasantly aware that Garraboy was watching him, and this scrutiny, which might have been inspired by a personal jealousy, struck him as a deliberate suspicion. He returned the look with a belligerent intensity, conscious in his own mind that he had already formed a prejudice as to the identity of the second thief. "A woman might have taken the ring on impulse," he thought uneasily, "but only a man could have had the cold daring to take it the second time." He eliminated Majendie by an instinctive rejection; Slade appeared an equally impossible solution. "It’s Cheever, Bloodgood, or Garraboy," he thought. "And Cheever hasn’t the nerve—I don’t believe it. It’s Bloodgood or Garraboy—and Garraboy is the most likely." Suddenly a hot, panicky feeling came to him. What if the real thief—Garraboy, for instance—had slipped the ring into his own pocket? He unlocked his hands and hurriedly searched his clothes. Then annoyed at seeing this childish action come under the notice of the broker, he shifted in his seat and glanced toward Nan Charters. To his surprise, he found again the same indications of nervousness in the concentration of her eye on the door leading into the bedroom. At this moment Mrs. Bloodgood emerged, and Mrs. Cheever went in. At once the nervous tension of his companion seemed to relax, and she sank back in her seat, with an indifferent glance around the room. "Decidedly, there is something queer between the two," he thought, mystified.