"McKenna's got a good reason. You'll understand later."
"Now, Mr. Beecher, I've just one thing to say before I go," said McKenna, while the insistent bell continued its querulous summons. "I'd prefer you wouldn't mention to any one that you saw me. At any rate, as Mrs. Kildair evidently isn't anxious for quick results, there's nothing to be done now. Perhaps by tomorrow there may be a different turn to the case."
"What do you mean?" said Beecher. "Why don't you tell me what you know?"
"You forget, Mr. Beecher; you yourself have stopped me there," said McKenna, with a slightly malicious smile. "However, there's going to be a little meeting tonight that may have a whole lot to do with the fortunes of a good many people; and when it's over it may, or may not, throw a new light on this case."
"They're going to put Slade through the same initiation they gave Majendie," said Gunther, at a look from Beecher. "There's a meeting of the big fellows at the governor's tonight—a sort of sheep-shearing—though Slade's not much of a lamb."
"And his wool grows close to the hide," said McKenna, with one of his rare laughs. "However, I can tell you this much: whatever happens I don't believe there'll be any exit by the bullet route—not if I know John G. Slade. Now, sir, I've got to disappear for a while on my own troubles."
"Where can I get you?" asked Beecher.
"You can't get me," said McKenna, with one of his sudden contractions of the eyelids. "That's the whole point—not till I get you. I'm off, and you don't know where," he added, offering his hand. "Maybe two days; maybe a week."
"I don't understand," said Beecher, with a puzzled expression.
"I do," said Gunther, pulling his sleeve.