"Mr. Majendie, there is always a chance that the ring may have rolled off the table and been caught in somebody's dress. Such things have happened again and again. I suggest that every woman make a careful search."
"Miss Charters is quite right," said Majendie, who, advancing to the middle of the studio, repeated the suggestion. "The situation is frightful; we must take every precaution to avoid the chances of an accident."
The four women immediately began to examine the ruffles and draperies of their skirts--without success.
All at once the door at the back of the room opened, and Mrs. Kildair reappeared.
"I shall have the detectives here--a man and a woman--within half an hour," she said. "There is nothing to do but wait."
She seated herself in a chair near the door, her hands stretched out over the arms, her head lowered. Every one sat down, with the exception of Maud Lille, who, however, shifted a little so as to have the support of the piano. No one spoke; the situation had passed beyond comment.
On the dining-table the little alcohol-lamp under a chafing-dish burnt itself out unnoticed. At the end of thirty-five minutes, during which every one had been intent on the torturous progress of the clock, a sudden buzz was heard.
Mrs. Kildair rose and, passing out by way of the bedroom, was heard talking behind the closed doors that led into the hall, a sound followed by the indistinguishable jumble of voices.
A nervous five minutes, and she reappeared, with the same incomprehensible calm that had marked her during the period in the dark.
"The women will go into the bedroom," she said, without variation of her voice. "The men will be searched in the dining-room."
"One moment," said Slade, taking a step in advance.
Mrs. Kildair turned with a start, the first agitation noticeable.
"It is absolutely necessary for me to keep an appointment at ten o'clock," he said, glancing at the clock, which stood at the last quarter. "As I was not here when the ring was first stolen, I ask the privilege of being examined the first."
At this there was a murmur, and Mrs. Kildair hesitated.
Slade, giving a disdainful shoulder to the protest, strode deliberately to Mrs. Kildair and spoke with her in a low voice. At the end of a moment Mrs. Kildair nodded as though convinced, and, going to the folding doors, unlocked them. Outside a man in a dark business suit, as grimly correct as an undertaker, was waiting with folded arms.