As Bloodgood started to remove the punch-bowl, Majendie rose quickly and took the heavy candelabrum from the hands of Maud Lille, saying:
"Permit me; that's rather heavy for you."
"But, Mrs. Kildair—" began Mrs. Cheever's voice, in shrill crescendo.
Mrs. Kildair, as though satisfied by her examination of the journalist, nodded to Majendie, and, perceiving the mahogany table clear, said without notice of Mrs. Cheever:
"Good! Now put the candelabrum down on it."
In a moment, as Cheever proceeded lumberingly on his errand, the brilliant cross-fire of lights dropped away in the studio, only a few smoldering wicks winking on the walls, while the high ceiling seemed to recede as it came under the sole dominion of the three candles bracketed in silver at the head of the bare mahogany table.
"Now listen!" said Mrs. Kildair, and her voice was cold and abrupt. "My ring has just been stolen!"
She said it suddenly, hurling the news at them, and waiting ferret-like for some indication in the chorus that broke out.
The hand that Beecher still grasped shot out from him as though it had been stung. For the first time, Slade, forgetting Majendie, wheeled brusquely and concentrated his glance on Mrs. Kildair, who listened unmoved to the storm of exclamations:
"Stolen!"