The disclosure of the relations of Majendie and Mrs. Bloodgood had suddenly recalled the suspicion that had come to him the night before, while following the agitation of Nan Charters; and he was asking himself, in a bewildered manner, if Mrs. Bloodgood, desperate, perhaps on the verge of a separation, had not in an uncontrollable moment taken the ring. Gunther continued in praise of McKenna: "It’s the organization that’s wonderful. It’s like a spider-web, and McKenna sits in the center and pulls the threads. What the public never gets is this—that half of the work’s done before McKenna’s on the case. He knows to-day where every forger is living, every cracksman. He’s got his informers in every saloon, in every cheap hotel, where thugs congregate. If a bank’s robbed, nine times out of ten he can tell in a day who’s done the job, because he knows who’s disappeared from his regular haunts. A detective agency is a great news bureau that never prints its news." "I guess the case is more complicated than I thought," said Beecher, struck by the new lead. "It begins to look as though a whole lot of persons might have taken the ring." "Thinking of Mrs. B?" said Gunther quickly. "Yes," said Beecher meditatively. They were in the corridor leading to the private dining-rooms. He put his hand out and checked his companion. "I say, who’s Madame Fornez?" "Opera squealer," said Gunther irreverently; "Carmen and all that sort of thing. Bob Holliday’s daffy about her. Come on; let’s face the music." He nodded to the attendant waiting with extended ears, who now sprang forward to open the door on the flaring room and the dazzling white of the richly covered table set for five. Holliday and two women in décolleté instantly burst into exclamations of reproach. "Sorry; couldn’t be helped—business," said Gunther, without taking the pains for a more elaborate apology. Then, sure of his explanation, he added: "You probably missed it. Poor old Majendie’s up the spout. Forced resignation. There’ll be the devil to pay to-morrow." The reproaches ceased, succeeded by a rush of excited questions. Holliday, a tall, scoured blond, who had been drumming at the piano, was so disturbed by the news that he forgot his duties as a host. "_Allons_, Bobbie," said Mme. Fornez, turning her great Spanish eyes on Beecher with an expression of approval, "introduce your nice-looking friend." Beecher, amid laughter, was presented. Mme. Fornez, who, from pride perhaps, chose to retain the freedom of the peasant, tapped him familiarly on the arm and said: "I like you. You don’t look so clean and stupid as most of your dollar men. You will sit by my side. I select you. Monsieur Gunthère, Bobbie—enough of your old panics and your stocks; you have two charming ladies present, that’s all you need to know. Bobbie, obey me at once!"