The speculations which were occasioned by this disclosure were suddenly interrupted by a knock on the door.
"Come!" said McKenna sharply.
An assistant entered the room with two letters. McKenna looked at the first and nodded, and then seeing the address on the second looked up quickly, saying:
"How did this come—this letter for Mr. Beecher?"
"It was sent down from his apartment, I believe, sir. Mr. Beecher's man brought it, I think."
"Very well."
McKenna dismissed him with a gesture, but instead of opening his letter thrust both of them into his pocket.
"That's all, Mr. Mapleson," he said with incisiveness. "I'm sorry to have troubled you. It's quite possible, as you perhaps believe, this case will be settled out of court."
"Let's hope so," said Mapleson non-committally. "I'm always at your service, you know. It's I who should apologize. Mr. Gunther, remember me to your father. Mr. Beecher, I hope to meet you soon again."
He shook hands warmly with Beecher, as though the young man had acquired a new value in his eyes, and went out.