Early in October I found myself with my friend, Dr. Moore, a well-known physician, standing in one of the popular theatres. We had dropped in for one act or so, and, like many others, were unable to secure seats owing to the hour and the popularity of the play. At first, engrossed with the performance, we paid no attention to the audience; but when the act closed and the lights were turned up, we glanced around as we prepared to leave for a stroll. My attention was called to some ladies in one of the lower boxes--two fair-haired and strikingly attractive young women, and an older one, evidently a relative, for there was a resemblance in features that was noticeable. The younger ones were certainly sisters; their similarity of complexion, face and figure rendered such an assumption a certainty. My friend noticed them, and a change came over his face; he began to beam as one does who has seen a friend. We were far off, and in a position where we could admire, without impoliteness. "Those are charming ladies," I said. "You seem to know them, Moore?" "Yes, I have not seen them for quite a while; they are old patients of mine. Do you see any one with them? If I mistake not, he is somewhere in the box," continued Moore. "He!" "Who?" As I spoke I noticed a gentleman--a tall, clear-cut fellow--lean forward and speak to one of the sisters. As he moved, his face came full in the light and I recognized him. "It's he!" I cried. "I've found him at last!" "Found whom?" exclaimed Moore. "Him, that man!" "Great Scott!" said Moore, "you must be sick. What ails you, anyway? Have you been dining at the Club?" I turned to my friend and said: "Doctor, I've found him at last--that man in the box." "Well, did not I tell you he ought to be there?" said Moore. "Because you found him, do you think you have accomplished a wonderful piece of work? Of course he was there." "What do you mean? Whom are you talking about, anyway?" I asked. Doctor Moore looked at me as though wondering if I were in my right mind, then said: "Stone, I am talking about the gentleman in the box; I said he should be there; he usually is with those ladies." "Yes," I replied, "it is he!" "Stone, what's the matter? Come and take something, old man"--and seizing me by the arm, my companion led me away to the nearest café, where he watched me closely as he poured out a bracer. I seized it and said: "Here's to the man in the box! I've found him." "Of course you found him, old man. I don't see what you are making such a fuss over that fact for; it's not a question of priority." "No," I said, "it's a question of identity." "Explain." "Well, I want to know who _he_ is. He has worried my mind for a month." "Oh, is that all?" and Moore heaved a sigh of relief; he had been genuinely anxious about me, that was plain. "Have you run up against him anywhere?" he asked. "No, he ran up against me," I answered. "Here, sit down," said Moore. "What, in heaven's name, has got into you?"