The Sixty-First Second

by Owen Johnson

  *CHAPTER XXV*

  McKenna was so startled at this announcement that the expression on hisface brought a smile to the face of the woman.

  "Let me begin at the beginning," she said.

  While he seated himself, she continued moving about, her head down, herlip closed over her under lip, carefully considering the situation. Shehad no fear to give her confidence. She understood the man with whomshe was dealing, the more so for his open avowal of his reasons forseeking her friendship. Also she was fully alive as to the strength ofsuch an alliance. What she considered was how much she should reveal.To-morrow she would be Mrs. John G. Slade, at the goal of her ambitions,over what perilous paths only she herself knew. The knowledge of whatshe had won suffocated her, for the nature of dramatic and adventurousspirits is such that they must seek relief in confidence. More, theycrave the admiration that only another can bring to complete theirmoments of self-intoxication. At this moment, when her role had beenplayed, she craved applause. McKenna was not a friend--he was amachine, a rock that would give back an echo. Beside, what had he notdivined?

  "McKenna," she began quietly, though weighing her words, "to any oneelse I might tell my story differently. With you it is otherwise. Youare no fool. I shall speak openly. On the night of my party I wasvirtually ruined."

  "Ruined!" exclaimed McKenna, with an involuntary glance at the luxurywhich surrounded them.

  "When I say ruined, I mean for me," she said, nodding. She becamethoughtful, looking beyond him, seeing a distant self. "When I camehere I had fifteen thousand a year. I was not satisfied. I wantedforty. I gambled. I have always gambled. I lost heavily. That night Ihad only five thousand a year left. That was ruin for me. I speculatedon the tips of a man who deliberately and for a purpose misinformed me.Can you guess who that man was?"

  "Slade," said McKenna instantly.

  "Yes, Slade," she said. "It has been a desperate struggle between us.Tomorrow I shall become his wife. That is what I want more than I haveever wanted anything else. It is my right--you will see what I will do.Understand me, if Slade had failed I should not have married him, andyet I tell you frankly he is the only man I have known that appeals tome in every way. However," she added, with a little abrupt movement ofher closed hand, "that's over. I have won."

  "Did he know that you had lost?" asked McKenna slowly.

  "No," she said with a smile, "he never knew. Not that he would not havemade it up--in his way. It is a game he must have played many times."She went to a writing-desk and, unlocking a drawer, brought out a note."When I told you he gave me this ring with an offer of marriage," shesaid, returning, "that was not true. He had no thought of marriagethen--far from it. He offered me the ring and I refused it, knowingthat he did so only to try my weakness. Also, he wanted to find outwhat I knew of Majendie and the Atlantic Trust. When he left he sent itback with this note. Read it."

  McKenna took the sheet, smoothing out the wrinkles, and held it up.

  DEAR LADY:

  Apologies for my rudeness. If you won't accept a gift, at least wearthe ring for a week. I should like to know what effect it could have onyour cold little soul. Oblige my curiosity. It's only a littlereparation for the disappointment I gave you.

  J.G.S.

  Mrs. Kildair took the note again and returning to the desk locked it inthe drawer.

  "This, then, was my situation the night of the party. I had lost twothirds of what I had. I was absolutely resolved to play everything Ipossessed on one last gamble. I need not remind you of the financialsituation at that time. I knew Majendie and I knew Slade. Furthermore,I knew Mrs. Bloodgood. The problem was this--if Majendie was to besupported and the Atlantic Trust to be upheld, there would probably beno panic. If Majendie failed, I knew there would be a tremendous breakin stocks--a killing for those who knew what was coming. That nighteverything depended on my solving Majendie's fate. I did and I won. Itwas a guess, but a guess such as you understand. I have known too manymen not to know how a true man acts under such circumstances. He camefrom the meeting that had condemned him, and the first moment he greetedMrs. Bloodgood, I was sure that he was lost. Later, as he bowedironically to something I had said, I saw in the gaping of his pocketsomething that gave me another clue--a slight thing, but which had a lotto do with what followed--just an edge of a green folder."

  "A folder?" said McKenna, perplexed.

  "Yes, a folder that I thought might be a railroad time-table," she said,nodding. "I knew, of course, of Mrs. Bloodgood's infatuation. I hadher confidence. I knew that she had started to procure a divorce. Ilikewise knew how often she had begged Majendie to elope with her.Furthermore, almost every one there that night was watching Majendie forthe same purpose--all who were speculating; Mr. and Mrs. Cheever,Bloodgood, Garraboy, Maud Lille, Slade--who came in late, quiteunexpected--were there on the same errand."

  "Yes, that I understood," said McKenna.

  "Now, I come to the actual theft of the ring. The moment I found it hadbeen taken, I realized all the difficulties of my position, howdangerous any inquiry would be to my reputation, which would necessarilyestablish the fact of its being a gift of Slade's. I resolved ondesperate measures. That is why I came back, had the doors locked,extinguished the lights, and announced that I would call in detectivesto have every one searched, unless the ring was restored during theperiod in the dark, while I counted one hundred."

  "Did you suspect who had taken it?" asked McKenna.

  "There were several I could suspect--that was the trouble," she said."As you know, when I had counted sixty-one, there was a sound on thetable. Every one exclaimed! The ring had been restored! When the lightswere lit the table was bare. Evidently a second thief had taken what thefirst had restored. That's what I thought--every one thought. I waswrong. There were not two thieves, there was only one."

  "The same person had put it down as a blind and taken it again," saidMcKenna slowly, as she waited for his comment.

  "No," she replied, smiling. "It was all cleverly planned, and only anaccident prevented its being successful. My ring was never on thetable."

  "The ring that was thrown down, then," said McKenna, suddenlyenlightened, "was another ring--a blind--to cover what any one mighthave seen? I see!"

  "And also to make it appear that the ring was in the studio."

  "Yes, I understand it now," said McKenna, nodding, with a sudden snap ofhis fingers.

  "I immediately went out, locking the door, and telephoned for mydetectives. To this point this was my only thought. When I had donethat, I began to think over what had happened. It seemed incredible tome that any one should have dared take such a risk--particularly as asearch was inevitable. When I returned to the studio and awaited thearrival of my detectives, this was my only thought. I studied each andI became convinced that the ring would not be found on any one. If thatwere true, where was it? In the studio, hidden somewhere--but eventhere it would be sure to be found--so why should any one have evenrisked that?" She stopped a moment and then said quietly, with againthat same far-seeing look beyond him: "McKenna, in my life I have seenmany strange scenes. I have known of many more. One such came back tome and I guessed this much--that the real ring had not been heard. Butthat was all. When the detectives arrived, I went quietly into thehall, still trying to work it out. Quite by accident, I brushed againstone of the coats that was hanging over the railing and knocked it down.Absolutely mechanically, without knowing why I did it, when I picked itup I ran my hands in the pockets. In the second was the ring."

  "And the coat, you say, was Beecher's?" said McKenna, amazed.

  "Wait. I replaced it hurriedly, noticing how similar it was to anotherthat still lay on the rail. Then I opened the door and ushered thedetectives into the dining-room. I had the ring, but I did not know thethief. Then all at once it came over me to what use I might put whathad occurred. I had the ring which had been offered me, but which Icould not
accept openly. I could now use it to raise money for thespeculation I had resolved upon, without Slade's knowing of theobligation. Second, I wanted to make sure that I had really seen atime-table in the pocket of Majendie. I gave my order to that effect tothe detectives and started the search."

  "Was it a time-table?"

  "Nothing was found. Majendie, profiting either by the first period ofdarkness, or the second, had thrown it away. I found it in thewaste-basket a little later. It was a time-table and his very actionmade my guess a certainty."

  "But the thief?"

  "When the turn of Garraboy arrived," said Mrs. Kildair, "he left, as alldid, without returning to the studio. I was watching him particularly.Five minutes after he left, he returned. He had taken Mr. Beecher'scoat by mistake."

  An exclamation of annoyance escaped McKenna. He sprang up angrily.

  "Mrs. Kildair," he said, not attempting to restrain his annoyance, "thatis the one thing Mr. Beecher neglected to tell me--see how we arehandicapped--"

  "I'm not blaming you, McKenna," said Mrs. Kildair with a smile. "On thecontrary, you discovered entirely too much."

  "It was cleverly worked out," said McKenna grimly, "and no risk. He hadhis wits about him. Sounding another ring on the table to limit thesearch to the studio was quick thinking. Planting it in Beecher's coatwas better. Even if he were caught with it on, he could pretendamazement, a natural mistake. And if not, it was a clean getaway," headded ruefully. "All the same, I wish I'd known that detail."

  "For the rest you were right. Mapleson loaned me the money. He is anold acquaintance, and I have once or twice," she said carelessly,"rendered him important services. He did telephone me ten minutesbefore you came. I staked everything I had in the market. I doubled mylosses. Is there any other point?"

  "Your having the detectives stay was, of course, a blind?"

  "Of course. I called Miss Charters and Garraboy on purpose. To thisday I wonder who he thinks got the ring from him."

  "He suspects," said McKenna.

  "Probably," she said carelessly. Then she turned on him. "Now,McKenna, answer me a question."

  "Which one?"

  "It's a thing I want to know," she said, with a sudden shade of dreadcreeping over her face. "It is one of those fatalities in life that areso terrible. Majendie killed himself because he thought the detectiveson his track had a warrant for his arrest. Weren't they, in fact, yourmen, simply placed there to record his movements for Slade?"

  "Mrs. Slade," said McKenna, not noticing the slip, "you have just givenme a profound confidence. Would you trust in my power to keep it, if,supposing I knew anything, I should tell you? Ask your husband himselfand tell me yourself. I am curious also."

  Mrs. Kildair, who saw in the politic evasion a feminine answer, noddedand drew back with a shudder.

  At this moment Kiki entering announced that Mr. Beecher was below.

  "Tell him the truth," said McKenna quickly. "That is, three quarters ofthe truth. Leave it to me."

  When Beecher entered, expectation and long-restrained curiosity on hisface, McKenna, with a look of crestfallen defeat which completelydeceived him, said immediately:

  "Mr. Beecher, have you that envelope I gave you?"

  "Am I to open it?" said Beecher eagerly, bringing it out.

  "On the contrary," said McKenna, taking it quickly. He took it andcould not resist examining the edges to see if it had been tamperedwith. "This is one of my failures, Mr. Beecher," he said, tearing itinto small pieces. "I've got too much vanity to let you see what an assI've been."

  "What does this mean?" said Beecher, standing open-mouthed.

  "It means, Teddy," said Mrs. Kildair severely, "that it is entirely yourfault."

  "My fault!"

  "Yes, your fault. You neglected to tell Mr. McKenna the one thing thatwas important."

  "What thing--what do you mean?"

  "That Mr. Garraboy went off with your coat by mistake."

  "Yes, Mr. Beecher," said McKenna, shaking his head, "by not telling methat one detail, you've made a fool out of me."

  "Then, Garraboy took it!" said Beecher, his face lighting up with asmile of triumph.

  "Garraboy took it, planted it in your pocket and then faked the ring atthe table. The ring was returned through a woman who guessed it and hadit restored. Her name is a secret, but you are at liberty to guess."

  "Miss Lille," said Beecher to himself. This denouement, which coincidedso closely with his own divination, completely convinced him.

  "If you've no further use for me," said McKenna, with the same hang-doglook, "I'll be going. Another time I hope to serve you better."

  "Thank you," said Mrs. Kildair, who contrived to add to the words alittle smile, comprehensible only to the detective.

  "Permit me to give you my profound congratulations," said McKenna,taking her hand with a bow that made Beecher open his eyes in wonder."I wish you every success."

  "_Au revoir_, McKenna," said Mrs. Kildair, still smiling.

  "Good-night, McKenna," said Beecher in turn.

  "Oh, you," said the detective, going off grumbling; "I have a bone topick with you."

  Beecher laughed guiltily when the door had closed.

  "By Jove," he said, "McKenna certainly is in bad humor. I'm sorry. Buthe was off on a tangent, wasn't he?"