by Owen Johnson
*CHAPTER XXIII*
At half-past five, Beecher, his brain in a whirl, arrived breathlesslyat the office of McKenna. As luck would have it, only Gunther and thedetective were there.
"My friend is a little late," said McKenna, with a quick, jerky glanceat the clock.
"Where's Garraboy?"
"Twirling his thumbs in another room," said Gunther, laughing. "In acussing bad humor, too."
For the second time, McKenna glanced nervously at the clock. Beecherwas struck with the mood of restlessness that obsessed him. He passedaimlessly from desk to window and back again, apparently oblivious totheir presence, immersed in some calculation that left its outward markin a deep furrow between the eyebrows, while the cigar between his lipshad gone out unperceived.
"Mr. Beecher," he said suddenly, stopping short, "I'm not sure but whatI've gone off on a ridiculous tangent--it may be--it may be. Have youstill got that envelope I gave you?"
"Yes, in my pocket--here," said Beecher, surprised, laying his hand onhis coat.
"It was a ridiculous thing for me to do," said McKenna quickly. He madea movement of his hand as though to take it, but repressed it, saying:"All I ask is, don't open it until I ask you." Then, still ruffled, heturned away, saying to himself: "Guessing--humph! I'd fire a man fordoing that."
The telephone rang with a message from the outer office and a momentlater, to the amazement of both young men, Mapleson, of the firm ofSontag & Company, came in smiling and businesslike.
"How are you, McKenna?" he said affably, shaking hands. "Sorry to keepyou waiting. What can I do for you?"
He was a slender, dark young man of forty-two or three, very graceful,pleasant in voice and fluent in manner, with a sure instinct foringratiating himself where it best could serve.
"How do you do, Mr. Beecher," he said on being introduced. "I am veryglad to know you, Mr. Gunther. I have the pleasure of knowing yourfather slightly. The country owes him a great debt for what he's donein this panic. Well, is there any mystery I can clear up for you?"
He accepted a chair, crossed his legs easily, brought out a goldcigarette-case, offered it with a wave and smiled at their declinations.
"Why, yes, Mr. Mapleson, you can give us a little information," saidMcKenna.
"Anything I can do for you, McKenna, glad to do it," said Mapleson.
"You may remember a ring that was sold by your firm a few months ago toMr. John G. Slade," said McKenna directly; "a single ruby, valued, Ibelieve, around thirty thousand dollars."
Mapleson did not avert his eyes from the glance of the detective, yetwithout a movement of his body an instant change came in his manner. Hedrew in a puff of smoke, let it out, nodded carefully and said:
"Yes, known as the Bogota ruby. I remember perfectly."
"I understand that that ring was brought back within the last ten daysand pledged for a considerable amount."
"Indeed?" said Mapleson. He flung away the half smoked cigarette, andbusied himself with selecting another. "Well, what do you want toknow?"
"I want to know the name of the person--man or woman--who pledged it."
Mapleson changed his mind, shut the cigarette-case with a snap, claspedhis hands in front of him, thumbs up and pressed against his teeth.
"Can you tell me a little more?" he said at last.
"No, I cannot," McKenna said frankly.
The eyes of the jeweler wandered from the detective and settled on theface of Beecher. The look made the young man flush. It was as thoughthe smiling, affable confidant of feminine mysteries and intrigues wasasking himself what part in all this he were playing.
"Can you tell me for whom you are acting, Mr. Beecher?" he saidsuddenly.
McKenna made a gesture of warning, interrupting:
"I'm sorry--we cannot."
"Have you a warrant?" continued Mapleson seriously. "In other words, isthis a friendly meeting, or a legal procedure?"
"There is no warrant as yet. It is a case we particularly desire tokeep out of court," said McKenna.
"It is very embarrassing," said Mapleson frankly, "very. I don't knowquite how to act. Of course, McKenna, considering your relations withour firm, I should always be glad to assist you in any way--youunderstand that. The present case is different. The ring was notpledged with Sontag & Company, but with me personally. It is a personalmatter and a very delicate one."
"I understand that," said McKenna, frowning. "And yet I must inform youthat I shall probably have to proceed in the usual manner."
"Of course, if I'm brought into court on a summons," said Maplesonthoughtfully, "that is different. If I am faced by the fact that a thefthas taken place, I can do nothing else but aid the law."
"But now--"
"At present? No, McKenna, I cannot give you the name of the person thatpledged the ring with me. The case seems very complex to me--much morethan you may believe; and as nothing is legally charged I prefer to keepmy relations confidential."
"Mr. Mapleson, can you answer this?"
"What?"
"Is your refusal because you believe the intention of the person whopledged it is to restore it to its owner?"
Mapleson turned the question over a long time, whistling softly tohimself. Finally he said:
"I don't know. I know nothing."
"Can you tell me the amount you advanced on the ring?"
"Yes; I think I can tell you that," he said, after a moment's thought."I advanced twenty-eight thousand dollars."
"Twenty-eight?" said McKenna, lifting his eyebrows. "Twenty-eight on aring worth only thirty thousand?"
"It was not a business transaction--entirely," said Mapleson stiffly.
"Then Sontag & Company knew nothing about it?"
"No."
"Was the ring pledged the day before Majendie committed suicide?"
"Yes."
"In the morning?"
"Early in the morning."
"One final question. The ring is still in your possession?"
"No."
"It is not in your possession?" said McKenna, with a sudden clearing ofhis forehead. "Mr. Mapleson, you are answering this because you feelbound--"
"Not at all," said Mapleson quickly. "The ring was redeemed thismorning. I know nothing more about it."
The speculations which were occasioned by this disclosure were suddenlyinterrupted by a knock on the door.
"Come!" said McKenna sharply.
An assistant entered the room with two letters. McKenna looked at thefirst and nodded, and then seeing the address on the second looked upquickly, saying:
"How did this come--this letter for Mr. Beecher?"
"It was sent down from his apartment, I believe, sir. Mr. Beecher's manbrought it, I think."
"Very well."
McKenna dismissed him with a gesture, but instead of opening his letterthrust both of them into his pocket.
"That's all, Mr. Mapleson," he said with incisiveness. "I'm sorry tohave troubled you. It's quite possible, as you perhaps believe, thiscase will be settled out of court."
"Let's hope so," said Mapleson non-committally. "I'm always at yourservice, you know. It's I who should apologize. Mr. Gunther, rememberme to your father. Mr. Beecher, I hope to meet you soon again."
He shook hands warmly with Beecher, as though the young man had acquireda new value in his eyes, and went out.
The moment the door had shut, McKenna had the two letters out of hispocket.
"Two letters from the same lady," he said, tossing one to Beecher."Both messages the same, too, I'll bet. Of course!"
He laughed and extended the letter to Gunther, who read:
DEAR MR. MCKENNA:
The ring has just been returned. Can I see you at once? Take no furthermeasures.
RITA KILDAIR.
McKenna was a changed man. All the indecision had left him. His eyeswere sparkling with pleasure and he was laughing to himself, as he tookup the telephone.
"Here, give me Clancy," he cried impatiently. "Hello. What's the matterwith Brady; hasn't he come back with that information yet? He has?Well, why the devil--send in the figures! Quick!"
A moment later a slip was in his hand and he was gazing at it eagerly.
"Mr. Beecher, give me half an hour's start--no, better, three quartersof an hour. Wait--have you got a car? Good. Drive me up to Mrs.Kildair's as fast as you can get me there."
"What about Garraboy?" said Gunther. "Is he to go free?"
"Not by a damn sight!" said McKenna joyfully rushing them down the hall.In the office he stopped to say hurriedly: "Clancy, stick byGarraboy--feed him--but keep him close until I telephone you!"
