"Precisely," said McKenna. "Of course there is a chance that Slade did not give her the ring; that I'll know tomorrow."
"How?"
"Make an inquiry—for a supposed purchaser, of course; find out if the ring is still at Slade's."
"It's useless," said Beecher firmly. "I know that McKenna's right. This explains everything," he continued, turning to the detective. "That's why she acted so strangely "—he checked himself. "I saw Mrs. Kildair—took lunch with her—to-day—"
"Did you find out whom she employed?" said McKenna quietly.
Beecher opened his lips to answer in the affirmative, and stopped abruptly. For the first time, he realized that Mrs. Kildair had taken back the address. He rose nervously, frowning at the stupidity he would be forced to disclose.
"By Jove, I am an ass!" he said, dropping his glance; and he related the scene in which Mrs. Kildair had first given him the address and then taken it away.
"It's not important, Mr. Beecher," said the detective pensively, his mind working behind the recital. "She didn't give you the right address."
"How do you know?" said Beecher, turning.
"Because she recovered the paper as soon as she found out you were employing me," he answered; but his mind was still out of the room. He took out a pencil and began tapping his memorandum with quick, nervous jots. "Her mind worked pretty quick," he said.