The cab was grinding against the curb. She put out her hand hurriedly, as if the impulse were to jump from the carriage. But immediately she checked the movement, and turned, saying very simply and directly: "Do you wish to be my friend?" "You know I do," he said, surprised. "Then, if you do, and trust me, never ask that question again—or make the slightest reference to it." She held out her hand. He took it, but without an answer, opened the door, saw her to her vestibule, and returned silent and moody, turning over again and again in his mind the sudden contradiction in her character. "I wonder if she repels or attracts me most," he said, tramping over the quiet pavements, which flung back the riotous thumping of his cane. But, as he went aimlessly along, he felt again creeping over him the suddenness of her charm and a certain unsatisfied restlessness to see her again, which came to him with the faint scent of the perfume that had clung to his coat. All at once he stopped. "I’ve got to get to the bottom of all this affair," he said abruptly. "I believe she’s as straight as they make ’em; I’d wager my soul on it—but I’ve got to know!" And, boarding a surface car, he returned to Rita Kildair’s. *CHAPTER V* He had arrived at the studio building and entered the lower vestibule before he was aware of the lateness of the hour. He pulled out his watch, and found that it was almost midnight. "Good heavens!" he said, taking a step back. "I quite forgot the time." He started to go, then turned to the switchboard. "Could I telephone up to Mrs. Kildair’s apartment?" "Go right up, Mr. Beecher," said the hallboy, rising. "Are you certain?" he said doubtfully. "Sure. Orders is to send up any one who calls." A little surprised, he entered the elevator. At that moment a ring sounded, and on the indicator the figure 4 dropped. "That’s her floor now," said the boy, starting up the elevator. At the fourth he came face to face with Garraboy, who saw him with a start of surprise and a sudden look of malice. The two nodded, without cordiality. "Hello," said Garraboy, looking at him with a curious fixity which he remembered after. "What are you doing here?" "What are you?" said Beecher abruptly. "Some valuable information to volunteer?" persisted the other, with a deliberate accent of irony. "Perhaps." "Indeed? Then you have come to assist in restoring the ring," said Garraboy in a low voice; and on his young, wrinkled face was a faint glimmer of a smile. "Perhaps," said Beecher, flushing angrily. "Does that annoy you?" "Not in the least," said Garraboy drily. "On the contrary, I am interested—exceedingly so." He lifted his hat slightly and stepped into the elevator. "Now, what in the devil has he got in his mind?" thought Beecher angrily. "And what was his idea in coming back? Nice look he gave me. Thought he had such an all-fired important engagement that he had to hurry away!"