"Mr. McKenna!" she said sharply.
"I beg your pardon," he said, stiffening abruptly.
"You perceive now the delicacy of my position," she said; "and why I desire to have you completely in my interests."
"I do," he answered, but still clinging to the saving rope of defiance. "I only regret that you told me this before Mr. Beecher's—"
"Now ask me any questions you wish," she said, interrupting him impatiently.
"I don't feel at liberty to do so, Mrs. Kildair," he said warily, convinced that her whole motive was to find out the extent of his knowledge. "I prefer to know first where I stand."
"Very well," she said. "Let us talk of other things, then." Her manner changed to one of a lighter, inconsequential curiosity. "There is one point in the frightful happenings of the day I should like to know."
"What, madam?" said McKenna, whose instinct warned him to adopt a tone of artless attention.
"Majendie was followed by detectives, was he not?"
"That is the report."