"Then, Mrs. Kildair," he said, turning, "do you wish me to report what I have just told you to my client, Mr. Beecher—as a guess?"
She stood up at once, fully alert.
"Mrs. Kildair, I am not an enemy," he continued, with a sudden change of manner. "I may not know all—but I know too much. Now, I'll tell you right out why I want your confidence. You marry John G. Slade. Slade is going to be one of the biggest figures in the country; I know that. I've had his business; I want to keep it. It's going to be ten times what it was before. More, I want his backing. I want several big jobs other agencies have got—The Bankers' Association, for one. Now, from what I've seen of you, the force back of Slade will be Mrs. Slade. Tell me yourself what I already know and I know I've got you as a friend. Keep it from me, and I know you'll supplant me with your husband. There may come a time when I can serve you—you never can tell. It's worth trying. I repeat I know too much. The only way to guard against it is by full confidence."
"You are right. I will tell you," she said suddenly, and she added seriously, "I was prepared to tell you. But it is understood this remains our secret."
"My word."
"And that Mr. Beecher is not to have the slightest clue. Can you promise me that?"
"I have another story ready."
"Good. Then it is an alliance," she said, and she offered her hand abruptly, with a movement full of authority.
McKenna shook hands, surprised at the masculine directness of her grip, surprised too at the utter disappearance from her face and attitude of all the impulsive fire and fascination that had first struck him.
"You are right, and you are wrong," she said directly. "I took the ring, but in an entirely different way from what you believe. I did not take it at the table, as you think—do you know where I found it?"