She ran over the character of her guests and their situations as she
knew them. Strangely enough, at each her mind stopped upon some reason
that might explain a sudden temptation.

"I shall find out nothing this way," she said to herself after a
moment's deliberation; "that is not the important thing to me just now.
The important thing is to get the ring back."

And slowly, deliberately, she began to walk back and forth, her
clenched hand beating the deliberate rhythmic measure of her journey.

Five minutes later, as Harris, installed _en maître_ over the chafing
dish, was giving directions, spoon in the air, Mrs. Kildair came into
the room like a lengthening shadow. Her entrance had been made with
scarcely a perceptible sound, and yet each guest was aware of it at the
same moment, with a little nervous start.

"Heavens, dear lady," exclaimed Flanders, "you come in on us like a
Greek tragedy! What is it you have for us, a surprise?"

As he spoke she turned her swift glance on him, drawing her forehead
together until the eyebrows ran in a straight line.

"I have something to say to you," she said in a sharp, businesslike
manner, watching the company with penetrating eagerness.

There was no mistaking the seriousness of her voice. Mr. Harris
extinguished the oil lamp, covering the chafing dish clumsily with a
discordant, disagreeable sound. Mrs. Cheever and Mrs. Enos Jackson swung