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--"
The tension became unbearable. Two or three voices protested against the
needless prolonging of the torture.
"Ninety-six, ninety-seven, ninety-eight, ninety-nine and one hundred."
A match sputtered in Mrs. Kildair's hand and on the instant the company
craned forward. In the center of the table was the sparkling sapphire
and diamond ring.
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