grinding of a shoe, the deep, slightly asthmatic breathing of a man.

"Twenty, twenty-one, twenty-two, twenty-three--"

She continued to count, while in the methodic unvarying note of her
voice there was a rasping reiteration that began to affect the company.
A slight gasping breath, uncontrollable, almost on the verge of
hysterics, was heard, and a man nervously clearing his throat.

"Forty-five, forty-six, forty-seven--"

Still nothing had happened. Mrs. Kildair did not vary her measure the
slightest, only the sound became more metallic.

"Sixty-six, sixty-seven, sixty-eight, sixty-nine and seventy--"

Some one had sighed.

"Seventy-three, seventy-four, seventy-five, seventy-six,
seventy-seven--"

All at once, clear, unmistakable, on the resounding plane of the table
was heard a slight metallic note.

"The ring!"

It was Maude Lille's quick voice that had spoken. Mrs. Kildair continued
to count.

"Eighty-nine, ninety, ninety-one--"