The Sixty-First Second

by Owen Johnson

  *CHAPTER XXIV*

  McKenna was not without that penetrating imagination that has in it thequality of vision, the power to invoke the figures of the past and tofollow an idea into the recesses of the future. All that he had learnedand all that he had tentatively surmised of the mysterious purposes ofRita Kildair, returned to him with renewed vividness as he entered theelevator saying briefly to a question:

  "I'm expected."

  In his long and profound pursuit of human lawlessness, the detective hadformed a crude philosophy, built on the perception of the inequalitiesof justice. The beginning of all crime, if he could thus have phrased itto himself, was failure. For each man that he had sent to jail forembezzlement, in the capacious corridor of his memory he knew anotherwho ethically was the greater rogue, and, as he had said to Beecher,each day he met one such, looked into his eyes, shook his hands and tookhis orders. For each woman upon whom public scorn had set the brand ofadventuress, he knew another woman who stood enthroned by that samesociety. Confusedly in his mind he had shaped a crude analysis of life.For him only two classes existed, the strong and the weak. The strongwas that brutal race which could not be held down by the restraints ofsociety, who must rise, acquire power, dominate, obeying the naturalinstinct within them; the weak those who aided them in their upwardprogress, who served them when they had arrived, and who committedcrimes in their names. It was not a moral view of life so much as itwas a perception of the persisting law of all animal nature.

  The engagement to Slade, following so dramatically his triumphant risefrom threatened disaster, had made him realize that whatever methods shehad dared to employ, Mrs. Kildair was one of those whom society wouldnever scorn for her failure. Intrigued as he was over the details of thetheft of the ring, what absorbed him most was the woman. And determinedat all hazards to force the defenses of her reserve, he rang the bell.

  Mrs. Kildair was at the piano, the riotous movements of an HungarianCzardas filling the apartment. She broke off suddenly, rising asMcKenna entered the studio. The mood of whirling ecstasy, suddenly cutoff, was still in her flushed cheeks and excited eyes, as she glidedrapidly toward him.

  She was in evening gown, of some flame-colored, filmy material, withsudden trembling flashes of gold bewildering to the eye, provoking tothe imagination. The bodice, extreme in its daring, was not one of thosestiff cuirasses, in which women encase themselves; rather the effect wasof a billowy scarf that had caught and wrapped itself languidly abouther. The low throat, the graceful arms, the brilliant row of pointedteeth over the full under lip, all had an extraordinary quality ofvibrant, awake, impatient vitality.

  In seeing her thus, McKenna comprehended at once that she had preparedherself for Slade; but so daring was the effect of the seduction whichshe had barbarically planned to tantalize the financier, that McKennahimself felt the effect with a little nervous, conscious dropping of hiseyes. The movement did not escape her, and not disdaining the tributeshe smiled to herself a quick, feline little smile.

  "You, McKenna?" she said. "You are prompt."

  "I came immediately."

  "I was waiting for you."

  They stood a few feet apart in the middle of the studio studying eachother, as two fencers take their measure before joining their swords.

  "You were at your office then?" she said the first.

  "Yes, I came up in Mr. Beecher's car."

  "Mr. Beecher was with you?"

  "Yes."

  "I sent him--"

  "A letter, yes. He received it at my office."

  "But why didn't he come up with you?"

  "I asked him to give me half an hour here with you."

  "That was better," she said firmly.

  All the undisciplined impulses that had been stirring, gradually seemedto subside as she watched him, warily drawing about her an invisibledefense.

  "Here is the ring," she said suddenly, extending her arm with a gesturethat was no longer languid and feminine, but forceful and controlled.

  "I'd like to see it," he said.

  She drew it from her finger and held it out to him. He laid it in hispalm and studied it profoundly.

  "What is it worth?" he asked.

  "Over thirty thousand dollars."

  "Ah," he said quickly. "Beecher told me you said fifteen thousand."

  She looked at him from under her eyelids.

  "I have just learned its value."

  "Remarkable--a splendid stone. It has had quite a history," he said,handing it back to her and watching it return to her finger. "Let'shope it will stay there quietly for some time."

  "You know its story?"

  "From the beginning. It will interest you. I'll send it to you."

  "Do."

  The last replies she had given were mechanical, her whole mind focusedon him, alert for any sudden turn to her advantage, seeking to penetratethe tactics he would employ.

  "You kept away--on purpose," she said abruptly.

  "That's so."

  "Why?"

  "Well, call it a matter of vanity," he said.

  "In what way?"

  "You excited my curiosity--you were a little too clever in our lastinterview."

  "So you kept on with your investigations?"

  "Yes."

  "Successful?" she said lightly.

  "Very."

  "Indeed? Do you know who took the ring?"

  "The first time? No."

  She stopped, looked at him intently, and said:

  "The second time then?"

  "Yes, I know who took it the second time."

  "Who?"

  "You."

  She laughed without confusion and, turning from him, went toward thefireplace, resting one bare arm on the mantel, the red splash of theruby showing like a flare of anger against her cheek. She looked backat McKenna, who had not moved, saying with an admonishing shake of herhead:

  "McKenna, you are guessing."

  "It's a good guess."

  "Let me hear your theory."

  "It is not a theory today."

  "Indeed?"

  "Yesterday it was a guess; today, I know."

  "How do you know?"

  "Because today I saw Mapleson," he said, watching her.

  "Yes? Mapleson, of Sontag & Company? I know him very well," shereplied with still no expression but amusement. "What then?"

  "The ring was pawned with him, a personal matter, the morning after thetheft, for the sum of twenty-eight thousand dollars. It was redeemedtoday."

  "By whom?"

  "By you, naturally," said McKenna, yet despite his absolute conviction,her composure was such that he was almost shaken in his theory.

  "Mapleson never told you that."

  "No; he refused to answer. It lay in my mind between you and Mrs.Cheever. The fact that he would not answer, gave me my strongest clue."

  "In what way?"

  "If it had been Mrs. Cheever, he would not have concealed it, because itwould have been a theft. But as it was you who came to him, he refusedto divulge the name, because he knew that no crime had been committedand that we had either no right to be investigating, or were doing so tobe blinded by you."

  "McKenna, you are guessing," said Mrs. Kildair again. "You aresupposing that only Mrs. Cheever and I are on such terms with him thatwe could make such a personal transaction. As a matter of fact, notonly Mrs. Bloodgood, but her husband and Miss Lille could have done thesame thing."

  "True," said McKenna, but he added obstinately: "No, the only reasonMapleson withheld the name was because no crime had been committed."

  "Before we go on," she said with the same mocking smile, "would you mindtelling me how you worked out this theory? Sit down. I really aminterested."

  If McKenna had not in his possession one bit of information which he hadwithheld, he would have felt the nervousness of a possible andridiculous failure. At it was, a doubt flashed across his mind; but heallowed her to see none of this hes
itation.

  "I'm perfectly willing to let you know how it came about," he said,sitting down and speaking frankly. "I'm not laying claim to anythingstartling. I'll admit now that as to the details of how it was done, andwhy it was done, I don't know. I can guess; but I don't know. But asto tracing the ring and working back from that--that's A.B.C." Then,with a flash of intuition, he said abruptly: "Of course, Mapleson hasjust 'phoned you."

  "Well, go on," she said without reply, drawn back a little, listeningintently.

  "The first thing I did was to locate the ring," he began. "You yourselfknow how easy it is to follow a stone worth thirty thousand. You knowthat, because the moment you found out I was on the case, you knew Iwould learn that Slade gave it to you. That's why you had me comehere--to block it."

  "That's true."

  "Now, for a while, I admit I was in the dark, following several clues,and I don't mind saying here that until your engagement I was not at allsure it wasn't Mr. Slade himself who had taken that way of recoveringit."

  "That's strange," she said, startled. "Yes, I can see that waspossible, too."

  "Now, what I was working on," said McKenna, "was the strongestmotive--that whoever took it up, took it because he had to take it toraise money, to pay a debt or to gamble on the market. So Iinvestigated two ways--first, the back histories and the presentstanding of every one at your party; second, in the great jewelry shops,to find out if the ring had been sold or pawned."

  "Of course."

  "I didn't believe it had been done openly--that would have been toorisky--but through some channel like Mapleson. But I wasn't thinking ofMapleson then. I couldn't locate the ring. I found out that Bloodgood,Cheever, Mrs. Cheever, Miss Lille and Garraboy had all speculatedheavily on the market next day. That didn't help much. Now I come tomy interview with you."

  Mrs. Kildair nodded and leaned forward slightly.

  "That worried me. After that, I did one thing and thought another.Down at the bottom, there was something that kept me thinking about you,something that bothered me. That's where the guess-work comes in, but Idon't know as I'd call it guess-work. It's an instinct you get when youcome in contact with a person--it's put me on the right track many atime. I saw you didn't want anything done, but what fooled me was, Ithought it was--" He hesitated, and then said boldly: "Mrs. Kildair, nouse talking unless we say what we mean, is there?"

  "Quite right, be professional," she said with a quick nod. "You thoughtI wished to conceal what my true relations were with Slade? That's it,isn't it?"

  "Yes, that was it," he said slowly. "And being wrong myself, I figuredout a possible motive. I was dead sure you knew who had taken the ring.Don't ask how--that's instinct--but I knew. So I figured out it wasblackmail you were afraid of, and I began looking around for the lady orgentleman who would know that the ring had belonged to Slade. Do yousee?"

  "Yes, go on. It's very plausible."

  "It looked like Garraboy, and it looked like the Cheevers at times," hesaid. "Then Mr. Beecher told me of seeing Mapleson in Mrs. Cheever'sbox at the opera, and that you said you knew him. That's what started meon Mapleson. Likewise, I began thinking more and more about thatinterview with you. Then came your engagement and I flung over all mytheories, and got down to work. I began to look you up, and when Ifound out the situation from Mapleson, I made up my mind then and there,for one reason or another, you yourself took the ring the second time."

  "Is that all?"

  "No, this evening I got the last link I'd been waiting for."

  "What's that?"

  "Your account with your broker, and the record of sales," he said,bringing out a slip from his pocket.

  "Do you get convictions on such evidence as this?" she said steadily.

  "No," he said frankly; "but I get confessions."

  "Why should I take my own ring?"

  "The situation was unusual. You probably learned of Majendie's failureand you plunged on the short side."

  "But why not do so openly?" she said calmly.

  He hesitated.

  "Do you really want me to answer that?" he said finally.

  "We are not mincing words."

  "You were not engaged to Mr. Slade at that moment," he began.

  "How do you know?"

  "I do know. The one thing in your interview with me I particularlyremember was your anxiety that Mr. Slade should know nothing."

  She remained thoughtful, bracing her fingers against each other,carefully considering what he had shown he knew.

  "And your theory is that I took the ring the second time," she said,"when whoever first took it had thrown it on the table, that I called indetectives to make Slade believe it had been stolen, so that I couldgamble in Wall Street without being suspected."

  "Exactly," he said. "I have no means of knowing who took it first, butI would gamble my soul you took it the second time. For another reason:any one who took it knew he faced a search--that it was almostimpossible to get it out of the room. The only person who could take itwithout being suspected was yourself."

  "McKenna," she said at last, but without the amusement that had formerlybeen in her eyes, "you are still guessing."

  He rose impatiently and went across the room, his hands behind his back.

  "Then, Mrs. Kildair," he said, turning, "do you wish me to report what Ihave 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 ofmanner. "I may not know all--but I know too much. Now, I'll tell youright out why I want your confidence. You marry John G. Slade. Sladeis 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 timeswhat it was before. More, I want his backing. I want several big jobsother agencies have got--The Bankers' Association, for one. Now, fromwhat I've seen of you, the force back of Slade will be Mrs. Slade. Tellme 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. Theremay come a time when I can serve you--you never can tell. It's worthtrying. I repeat I know too much. The only way to guard against it isby full confidence."

  "You are right. I will tell you," she said suddenly, and she addedseriously, "I was prepared to tell you. But it is understood thisremains our secret."

  "My word."

  "And that Mr. Beecher is not to have the slightest clue. Can youpromise me that?"

  "I have another story ready."

  "Good. Then it is an alliance," she said, and she offered her handabruptly, 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 ofall the impulsive fire and fascination that had first struck him.

  "You are right, and you are wrong," she said directly. "I took thering, but in an entirely different way from what you believe. I did nottake it at the table, as you think--do you know where I found it?"

  "Where?"

  "In the pocket of Mr. Beecher's overcoat."