with an almost stealthy motion.

"Put the candelabrum on this table--here," said Mrs. Kildair, indicating
a large round table on which a few books were grouped. "No, wait. Mr.
Jackson, first clear off the table. I want nothing on it."

"But, Mrs. Kildair--" began Mrs. Jackson's shrill voice again.

"That's it. Now put down the candelabrum."

In a moment, as Mr. Cheever proceeded methodically on his errand, the
brilliant crossfire of lights dropped in the studio, only a few
smoldering wicks winking on the walls, while the high room seemed to
grow more distant 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 had in it a cold note.
"My sapphire ring has just been stolen."

She said it suddenly, hurling the news among them and waiting
ferret-like for some indications in the chorus that broke out.

"Stolen!"

"Oh, my dear Mrs. Kildair!"

"Stolen--by Jove!"

"You don't mean it!"