"By patience and by running down every alley till we find it is an alley," said McKenna. "That’s one thing to keep in mind, and let’s put it this way. Was there any one there that night who had to have money quick, and who knew that the fact of Slade’s giving the ring would tie Mrs. Kildair’s hands? Now, if that condition existed, we’re on a strong motive." "You don’t consider that the only lead," said Beecher, convinced as he was of the probability of Mr. Majendie’s participation. "Lord, no. Here’s one other point to work on, Mr. Beecher. What’s the situation today between Slade and Mrs. Kildair? Has there been any quarrel—say within the last ten days?" "I don’t think so; and yet—" Beecher stopped, remembering Mrs. Kildair’s curious request for him to outstay the promoter. "What if there was?" "Slade’s a remarkable character," said McKenna, smiling. "Just how remarkable a few people will learn shortly. If he had quarreled or she’s been trying to trick him—just like him to take the ring the second time." "By George!" said Gunther. "Why not?" "That’s only something to be kept in the background," said McKenna, rising. He turned to Beecher, considering him profoundly. "Sorry you told Mrs. Kildair I was on the case," he said. Beecher blushed at the memory of the way in which he had been brought to disclose the information, and the confusion all at once revealed to the detective the probable means she had taken. At this moment the door opened and a voice called him. "Telephone, sir—personal." When the detective had left, Beecher and Gunther looked at each other in amazement in which a curious doubt was beginning to form. "Why the deuce should Slade give her the ring, Ted?" said Gunther abruptly. "I don’t know," Beecher answered, perplexed. "I know what you think—that’s natural; but I don’t believe it. She’s deeper than that—that is, I think so." But he ended perplexed, contracting his eyebrows, nervously jerking at a button on his coat. McKenna reentered, and on his face was a smile of anticipation and mischief. "Some one called me up just then," he said shortly; "some one I’ve been expecting to call me up. Guess who?" "Slade," said Gunther, startled. "Mrs. Kildair," said Beecher. "Mrs. Kildair is right," said McKenna. "I’m going up to see her tonight." And he added meditatively, "It ought to be quite an interesting little chat." *CHAPTER XIV* At eight o’clock promptly McKenna presented himself at the door of Mrs. Kildair’s apartment. Kiki, with his velvet glide, ushered him into the studio. The electric chandeliers were dull; only the great standing lamp was lit, throwing a foggy luster about the room, massing enormous dark silhouettes and spaces in the corners. "Is it a precaution?" he thought grimly, considering this serviceable obscurity.