"Where?"
"In the pocket of Mr. Beecher's overcoat."
CHAPTER XXV
McKenna was so startled at this announcement that the expression on his face brought a smile to the face of the woman.
"Let me begin at the beginning," she said.
While he seated himself, she continued moving about, her head down, her lip closed over her under lip, carefully considering the situation. She had no fear to give her confidence. She understood the man with whom she was dealing, the more so for his open avowal of his reasons for seeking her friendship. Also she was fully alive as to the strength of such an alliance. What she considered was how much she should reveal. To-morrow she would be Mrs. John G. Slade, at the goal of her ambitions, over what perilous paths only she herself knew. The knowledge of what she had won suffocated her, for the nature of dramatic and adventurous spirits is such that they must seek relief in confidence. More, they crave the admiration that only another can bring to complete their moments of self-intoxication. At this moment, when her rôle had been played, she craved applause. McKenna was not a friend—he was a machine, a rock that would give back an echo. Beside, what had he not divined?
"McKenna," she began quietly, though weighing her words, "to any one else I might tell my story differently. With you it is otherwise. You are no fool. I shall speak openly. On the night of my party I was virtually ruined."
"Ruined!" exclaimed McKenna, with an involuntary glance at the luxury which surrounded them.
"When I say ruined, I mean for me," she said, nodding. She became thoughtful, looking beyond him, seeing a distant self. "When I came here I had fifteen thousand a year. I was not satisfied. I wanted forty. I gambled. I have always gambled. I lost heavily. That night I had only five thousand a year left. That was ruin for me. I speculated on the tips of a man who deliberately and for a purpose misinformed me. Can you guess who that man was?"
"Slade," said McKenna instantly.