The Sixty-First Second

by Owen Johnson

  *CHAPTER IV*

  For a full, strained moment not a sound escaped the company; even thestrongest natures, Slade, Majendie and Rita Kildair seemed powerless tograsp what had taken place. Then the realization came, in a flash.What the first thief had failed to carry through another had boldlydared: a man or a woman, deliberately or hysterically, had seized theopportunity that had lain there, in the darkness, between thesixty-first second and the hundredth count.

  The match in Slade's hands burned his fingers, and went out. In thesudden blackness a dozen cries were heard:

  "Light the candle!"

  "Turn on the electric light!"

  "Search the floor!"

  "Stolen again!"

  "Ghastly!"

  "A light! A light!"

  Another match sputtered, and one candle caught the flame and flung itsexpanding circles of light around them.

  "It must have rolled to the floor," said Majendie's voice, among thefirst.

  "Nonsense!" broke in Slade's powerful bass. "There are no carpets; wewould have heard it. There is a second thief here. Every one must besearched. Mrs. Kildair, if you wish I'll call up my detective agency."

  "No," said Mrs. Kildair instantly, and her voice had regained its calm."I will attend to that myself."

  She went quickly to the door into the bedroom, unlocked it, passedthrough, and locked it again. A moment later the impatient ring of atelephone was heard.

  In the ill-lit studio the greatest confusion prevailed. Every oneseemed, by a common impulse, to desire to escape to the farthest ends ofthe room, stumbling and bumping against one another in the obscurity.Some instinct impelled Beecher to Nan Charters' side. He took her armwith a strong, reassuring grip, expecting to find her still shaken withemotion; but, to his amazement, he found her entirely collected.

  "Thank you, I am all right," she said, releasing herself, with a littlesmile.

  "Are you sure?" he said doubtfully.

  At this moment, as he stood staring at her, perplexed, Slade's voicerang out peremptorily:

  "The electric lights--some one turn on the lights!"

  He left her, and, going to the wall toward the antechamber, pressed thethree buttons embedded there. Instantly the great room was showered witha brutal glare. Near the piano, Mrs. Cheever was sunk in an arm-chair,in a seemingly hysterical state, while Mr. Cheever, glass in hand, wasbending over her; Mrs. Bloodgood was seated at the dining-table, herhead resting in her hands; Garraboy and Bloodgood were turning in themiddle of the floor. Only Maud Lille, stoic and alert, remained at heroriginal place. Slade and Majendie were carefully exploring the floor.

  Beecher did not at once return to his companion. Her sudden changeperplexed him with thoughts that he did not wish to analyze too deeply.He expected that she would rejoin Mrs. Bloodgood; but the young actress,as though purposely avoiding her, went finally to where Maud Lille wasstanding, and said, with a command that startled Beecher:

  "Mr. Majendie, there is always a chance that the ring may have rolledoff the table and been caught in somebody's dress. Such things havehappened again and again. I suggest that every woman make a carefulsearch."

  "Miss Charters is quite right," said Majendie, who, advancing to themiddle of the studio, repeated the suggestion. "The situation isfrightful; we must take every precaution to avoid the chances of anaccident."

  The four women immediately began to examine the ruffles and draperies oftheir skirts--without success.

  All at once the door at the back of the room opened, and Mrs. Kildairreappeared.

  "I shall have the detectives here--a man and a woman--within half anhour," she said. "There is nothing to do but wait."

  She seated herself in a chair near the door, her hands stretched outover the arms, her head lowered. Every one sat down, with the exceptionof Maud Lille, who, however, shifted a little so as to have the supportof the piano. No one spoke; the situation had passed beyond comment.

  On the dining-table the little alcohol-lamp under a chafing-dish burntitself out unnoticed. At the end of thirty-five minutes, during whichevery one had been intent on the torturous progress of the clock, asudden buzz was heard.

  Mrs. Kildair rose and, passing out by way of the bedroom, was heardtalking behind the closed doors that led into the hall, a sound followedby the indistinguishable jumble of voices.

  A nervous five minutes, and she reappeared, with the sameincomprehensible calm that had marked her during the period in the dark.

  "The women will go into the bedroom," she said, without variation of hervoice. "The men will be searched in the dining-room."

  "One moment," said Slade, taking a step in advance.

  Mrs. Kildair turned with a start, the first agitation noticeable.

  "It is absolutely necessary for me to keep an appointment at teno'clock," he said, glancing at the clock, which stood at the lastquarter. "As I was not here when the ring was first stolen, I ask theprivilege of being examined the first."

  At this there was a murmur, and Mrs. Kildair hesitated.

  Slade, giving a disdainful shoulder to the protest, strode deliberatelyto Mrs. Kildair and spoke with her in a low voice. At the end of amoment Mrs. Kildair nodded as though convinced, and, going to thefolding doors, unlocked them. Outside a man in a dark business suit, asgrimly correct as an undertaker, was waiting with folded arms.

  Slade bowed and passed into the hall, shutting the doors behind him,while Mrs. Kildair came back slowly, evidently running over in her mindthe order of selection.

  "Mrs. Bloodgood," she said finally, "will you go first?"

  Mrs. Bloodgood, surprised at the formal appellation, rose hastily, andstarted blindly for the vestibule through which Slade had passed.

  "In my bedroom, please," said Mrs. Kildair.

  The young woman checked herself, faltering a little, and entered thebedroom, where, for a moment, could be seen the drab figure of anotherwoman, ornamented by a little toque with a red feather.

  "Mrs. Kildair," said Majendie, rising, "it is equally important for meto leave as soon as possible. While I know that I ask a favor, possiblyall of you know that my affairs are at a vital stage, and I shouldappreciate it very much if there were no objection to my being examinedthe 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 greatdeal 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 asmile, and added: "If you are willing, Mrs. Kildair, shall we draw lotsfor it?"

  "Quite so," said Mrs. Kildair, and she arranged four slips in herfingers and tendered them.

  Majendie drew the longest, and was, therefore, forced to wait untilGarraboy, Bloodgood, and Cheever had passed ahead. He glanced at theclock with a sudden, uneasy look, and returned to his chair: but, forthe first time, a frown appeared on his face, while his fingers toreinto bits the slip of paper, which he did not notice he had retained.

  Beecher was unpleasantly aware that Garraboy was watching him, and thisscrutiny, which might have been inspired by a personal jealousy, struckhim as a deliberate suspicion. He returned the look with a belligerentintensity, conscious in his own mind that he had already formed aprejudice 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 secondtime."

  He eliminated Majendie by an instinctive rejection; Slade appeared anequally impossible solution.

  "It's Cheever, Bloodgood, or Garraboy," he thought. "And Cheever hasn'tthe nerve--I don't believe it. It's Bloodgood or Garraboy--and Garraboyis the most likely."

  Suddenly a hot, panicky
feeling came to him. What if the realthief--Garraboy, for instance--had slipped the ring into his own pocket?He unlocked his hands and hurriedly searched his clothes. Then annoyedat seeing this childish action come under the notice of the broker, heshifted in his seat and glanced toward Nan Charters. To his surprise,he found again the same indications of nervousness in the concentrationof her eye on the door leading into the bedroom.

  At this moment Mrs. Bloodgood emerged, and Mrs. Cheever went in. Atonce the nervous tension of his companion seemed to relax, and she sankback in her seat, with an indifferent glance around the room.

  "Decidedly, there is something queer between the two," he thought,mystified.

  In the studio the same stony silence was maintained. Through the opendoors that led to the antechamber Slade reappeared, hesitated a momentas if to reenter the studio, then bowed and went out. Behind him thedetective was seen waiting. Garraboy rose and immediately passed intothe back.

  Mrs. Bloodgood had taken her seat apart, staring ahead as though by adifficult process of mental control, for at times her glance, despitethe consciousness of her husband's espionage, flashed over to whereMajendie was impatiently following the movements of the clock.

  When Garraboy's search had ended, he followed the precedent of Slade,bowed without speaking, and departed; while Bloodgood, guarding the samesilence, passed into the dining-room. Maud Lille succeeded Mrs.Cheever, who returned in the same state of agitation that she had shownfrom the beginning. She started to approach her husband, when Mrs.Kildair's controlled voice was heard:

  "Not there, please, Mrs. Cheever. Kindly sit at this side of the roomwith Mrs. Bloodgood."

  Mrs. Cheever flushed instantly, and sank, or rather collapsed, in thechair which had been indicated.

  All at once there came another ring, followed by two or three impatienttaps on the outer door. There was a sudden stir in the room, where allnerves were clearly on the edge, and Mrs. Cheever gave a little scream.

  "I'll answer," said Cheever, rising.

  "Wait," said Mrs. Kildair. She started toward the door, and then,changing her mind, as if unwilling to relax her surveillance of eventsin the studio, stopped. "Mr. Beecher, please," she said thoughtfully."See who it is." And she moved slightly toward the half-drawnportieres, to hear and at the same time to be concealed.

  Garraboy was outside, a coat on his arm.

  "Excuse me," he said, without emotion. "I took the wrong coat. Stupidof me. Just found it out."

  "It looks like mine," said Beecher, examining it.

  "Probably is," said Garraboy, who extracted another coat of similarappearance from the rack, plunged into his pockets and nodded. "Sureenough. Sorry. Good night."

  So thoroughly disagreeable an impression had the broker produced uponBeecher that, in a moment of suspicion, moved by an incredible thought,he ran his hands hastily through the pockets.

  "I shouldn't have been surprised," he grumbled to himself, and returnedto the studio, where the conversation had been overheard.

  The search continued, ended, and, as all expected, no trace of the ringwas found.

  Mrs. Kildair excused herself, evidently maintaining her calm withdifficulty. The guests, murmuring inarticulate phrases, took theirwraps, and young Beecher found himself shortly in a coupe beside NanCharters.

  For several moments neither spoke, each absorbed in his ownspeculations. Beecher studied the figure at his side with covertglances, amazed at the transformation from the childlike charm which hadfirst fascinated him. An hour before he had begun to wonder how farthat feeling might develop in him; now, as he watched her, he wasconscious of a dispassionate, almost resentful analysis. The fragranceof her perfume, a little too overpowering, filled the interior of thecoupe. She herself, bending slightly forward, one elbow against thewindow-pane, pressed her ungloved knuckles against her chin, while herglance, set and controlled, was lost in the cloudy shadows and stripedreflections of the street without.

  "What is terrible in such a situation," she said musingly, but withoutturning, "is that any one may be suspected."

  The words were spoken with almost an absolute change of personality.The very tone brought to him an increased antagonism.

  "Quite true," he said. "You may have taken it the first time, and I thesecond."

  She turned and tried to distinguish his expression; but, if he had hopedto startle, he was disappointed. She said, quite possessed:

  "Why do you put it that way?"

  "Because I am convinced that the second time was the deliberate actionof a man, and that the first was the impulse of a woman."

  "Why a woman the first time?"

  "That is simply my feeling. A woman would not calculate the chances ofdetection, would have kept the ring on her person, and would haverestored it. What do you think?"

  "Possibly," she said, her glance returning to the street.

  "But you don't agree with me," he said, leaning a little forward.

  "I don't know."

  "Miss Charters, will you allow me to ask you a question?"

  "What? Yes."

  "Don't you know that a woman took it the first time?"

  She turned very slowly and looked at him steadily a moment.

  "I do not know," she said at last.

  "But you suspect," he persisted.

  "Do you know, Mr. Beecher, that this is a very strange question?" shesaid. "Exactly what are you implying? Do you, by any chance, suspectme?"

  She said the last words gently, with a return of the first manner whichhad so held him. And again, without being able to resist, he felt thecharm on his senses. He knew absolutely nothing about her. At timesthe most direct suspicions had entered his mind; never-the-less all atonce he heard himself answering:

  "I know nothing in the world about you, Miss Charters, but my instincttells me that is absolutely impossible."

  "Only?"

  "Only I can not forget your agitation at certain moments."

  "Naturally; that is my temperament."

  "You are perfectly calm now, and you were perfectly calm at certaintimes tonight."

  She turned suddenly in her seat and faced him, saying sharply:

  "What do you mean?"

  "May I speak frankly?"

  "I ask you to do so," she said peremptorily.

  "I think--in fact, I am convinced--that you suspect who took the ring inthe first place."

  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 shechecked 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 makethe slightest reference to it."

  She held out her hand. He took it, but without an answer, opened thedoor, saw her to her vestibule, and returned silent and moody, turningover again and again in his mind the sudden contradiction in hercharacter.

  "I wonder if she repels or attracts me most," he said, tramping over thequiet pavements, which flung back the riotous thumping of his cane.But, as he went aimlessly along, he felt again creeping over him thesuddenness of her charm and a certain unsatisfied restlessness to seeher again, which came to him with the faint scent of the perfume thathad 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 onit--but I've got to know!"

  And, boarding a surface car, he returned to Rita Kildair's.