They went on looking. When some more minutes had passed, and the figure still remained motionless, Preston linked his friend’s arm in his own. “Let us go and see if he is ill,” he said. “I am sure something is amiss with him.” They went up the staircase and round to the back of the boxes until they reached the box they sought. The door was shut. After knocking several times, and receiving no answer, they went in search of the attendant. “There is a gentleman alone in Box Thirteen,” Preston said, “who appears to be ill. We have knocked repeatedly, but can get no reply.” “A friend of yours?” the attendant inquired. “We know him, yes.” The Jazz band was blaring still as Preston and Blenkiron passed into the box, closely followed by the attendant. They spoke Schomberg’s name, but he did not reply. Then they went over to him, and Blenkiron put a hand upon his shoulder. Still he made no response. Now thoroughly on the alert Preston stripped off Schomberg’s mask, then jumped back with a start. To all it was at once obvious that the little Hebrew was dead! CHAPTER XIV. CONCERNS A NECKLACE. “Look at that drunken ass being carried out of his box.” The speaker stood beside his partner on the floor of the hall, fanning her with an ostrich plume. The girl laughed. “Why can’t you men keep sober?” she said, only partly in jest. They remained watching Levi and those assisting him until the group passed out of the box and was lost to sight. Others had watched him too, and because the conclusion they had all jumped at was that the fellow, whoever he might be, had drunk too much, the incident of his sudden death caused no commotion, and the ball went on as gaily as though nothing untoward had occurred. Stretched on a sofa in the secretary’s office, Schomberg lay strangely stiff, seeing that he could not have been dead over half an hour. A doctor had been discovered among the dancers, and, dressed to resemble a well-known comedian, he presented a ludicrous figure as he bent over the dead man, listening through his stethoscope. Presently he straightened himself and shook his head. “Quite dead,” he said. “Who is he? Does anybody know anything about him?” He looked about at the various people standing by. “It’s Levi Schomberg,” Preston said. “He was one of Mrs. Mervyn-Robertson’s guests. It was her box we found him in.” “Mervyn-Robertson? You mean the woman they call Jessica?” the doctor asked with a curious look. “Yes.” “May I ask if she is a friend of yours?” “I know her to speak to,” Preston answered, “so does my friend here, but I can’t say she is a friend of ours. To what do you attribute death, doctor?” “I can’t say at off-hand. Heart, most likely; the heat and general excitement may have induced the final attack. We must communicate with his friends. Are they here?” “I believe so. I don’t know Schomberg myself.” “I thought the attendant said you were both friends of his.”