Aware of the actor’s apparent interest, the property man said, in a disgusted way: “These fool temperamental actors make me sick. Tanner told me I must change the picture in this frame. I told him to go chase himself, but when Metcalfe came along a few minutes later and asked me to do the same thing—well, I thought I’d better give in and not take chances on makin’ trouble.” “What is the matter with the photograph?” Klein asked casually. “That’s what I couldn’t get at,” Kingston returned. “The thing ain’t seen by the audience. If it wasn’t for the director stickin’ to what he calls details, I could just as well have stuck in a sheet of cardboard.” Klein reflected, watching the man insert a new photograph and toss Delmar’s into a drawer. “Didn’t Tanner or Metcalfe give any reason why they wanted the change made?” he asked presently. “Nary a one,” Kingston answered. “Oh, I ain’t been around actors for ten years for nothin’. You got to treat ’em like a bunch of kids. If I didn’t change this picture, and one or the other of the fellows went up in the air over it, Bond would lay me out. You see, I ain’t takin’ no chances.” Klein went on the scene that night still puzzled. The fact that both Tanner and Metcalfe had urged Kingston to remove Delmar’s photograph from the frame suggested to Klein’s mind several possibilities. In attempting to deceive him, both men had placed themselves in a bad light. It was plain to Klein that the two men had been acquainted with Delmar, in one way or another, and for certain reasons neither of them desired the fact to become known. Had not Dodge interrupted yesterday, Metcalfe might have cleared up some of the mystery; but later, when Klein broached the subject in a tactful manner—he did not want to give the impression of being too interested—the juvenile man seemed strangely perturbed, and did not appear at all anxious to resume the story. While Klein was disappointed, he was still far from being discouraged—in fact, he had long ago dismissed the latter word from his vocabulary. “As Nick Carter would say,” he murmured to himself, as he took his position before the fireplace and waited for the rising of the curtain: “‘The trail is growing warmer every minute.’” After the fall of the final curtain, a party of young people who had witnessed the performance came back to the stage. Metcalfe, who had been through the second act, guided them around, answering volleys of questions. To the ordinary person in the audience there is always a certain amount of mystery and glamour connected with the region on the other side of the footlights, and when offered an opportunity to visit this kingdom of canvas and tinsel little time is lost in accepting. When Klein had finished dressing and was giving a final tug at his cravat, the door of his room was flung open and a bevy of giggling girls, led by Metcalfe, swarmed in.