"Mr. Slade has told me himself of your work in connection with the Gray Fox Mines, the Farmers’ and Travelers’ Bank, and the more personal affair of your recovery of his letters from a Miss Minna Weston. You see, I am informed." "I have worked for Mr. Slade," said McKenna. "And are you doing so now?" she asked sharply. "I never refer to my clients, Mrs. Kildair," he said stiffly. "I desire to put this matter entirely in your hands—without reserve," she said quickly. "All I ask from you is a promise that, notwithstanding your relations with him past or present, nothing I say to you shall be repeated to Mr. Slade, or to any one else." "Mrs. Kildair," said McKenna, every faculty joyfully grateful for the contest of wits he felt impending, "I must remind you that my employer is Mr. Beecher, and that I can promise nothing that will keep him from doing anything he desires. "Mr. Beecher is acting for me," she said calmly. "Very well; your position is correct. I will put it this way. Subject to Mr. Beecher’s approval, will you give me your word that you will repeat nothing of what I may tell you?" "If Mr. Beecher is willing, I am," said McKenna obstinately. "That’s my word." "Now I can speak to you freely," said Mrs. Kildair. "I have not promised yet," broke in McKenna. "I will take the risk," she said, brushing aside the obstacle with an impatient gesture. "I remain entirely free to communicate anything to Mr. Beecher," interposed the detective instantly. "You do not understand," she said, without irritation. "Mr. Beecher, in retaining you, did so to assist me, and only after he had secured my permission. Now I desire, in order to arrive at quicker results and to be free to give you my full confidence, to transfer that authority direct to me. In other words, Mr. McKenna, I wish to retain you myself and for myself only." "That, Mrs. Kildair, depends entirely on Mr. Beecher," repeated the detective. "But if he acquiesces, will you act in my interests only?" McKenna was about to interpose another evasion, when he reflected that he would have time to acquaint Beecher with what had happened and to advise him either to accept or to refuse. "Very well," he replied cautiously, feeling instinctively that some trap was being prepared without yet perceiving what it could be. "I will leave it that way." "Good," she said, with a little nod of her head. "Now, what have you done?" "I can not answer that, Mrs. Kildair," he said, smiling; "not under my present arrangement." "You have, of course, discovered that the ring belongs to Mr. Slade?" Quite unconsciously, she had adopted his own tactics, the tactics of the inquisitor, who hurls the vital question at the suspect, and then seeks the answer in the almost imperceptible response in the eyes.