He returned to the centre of his men. He rapped the magic wand on his desk, and the next moment the band had burst deliriously into the now famous orchestral arrangement of the “Glory Song.” The audience was thrilled by the waves of sound that emanated from the instruments, especially when the variations began. So the entertainment continued, while Mr. Gloucester, consuming his middle-aged impatience as best he could, ruminated upon the strange caprices of employers. He had been an employé all his life; he had never commanded; and his conclusion, at the age of fifty odd, was to the effect that the nature of employers is incomprehensible, and that you never know what they will do next. “Excuse me, sir.” He timidly touched Carpentaria when the concert was over. Carpentaria, it appeared, in the rush and fever of the music, had forgotten all about him, and was on the point of leaving the court deafened by applause. “Ah, yes!” said Carpentaria. “That thief. Two thousand five hundred pounds. And you say that Mr. Ilam has been carried off. Tell me all about that. Come this way. Come into the street--it is always the most private place.” And in the Central Way, near the fountain, upon which coloured lights were reflected from below, Mr. Gloucester related in detail to Carpentaria the episode of the theft. “You say it was a man dressed in blue, with grey hair?” “Yes, sir.” “And there were three of you, including Mr. Ilam, and you could not manage to disarm him?” “It might have meant death for the first of us, sir.” “Well,” said Carpentaria absently, “what if it did?” Mr. Gloucester grunted. “You said I was to consult Mr. Lapping, sir. Shall we go there?” “No,” said Carpentaria, “not yet. I will look into it myself first. The principal mystery is that of the doorkeeper. What is his name?” “Wiggins.” “And he has disappeared?” “He was not there when I left, sir. And he could not have been there when the thief entered.” “Why not?” “Because he would not have allowed the thief to enter, sir. He has strict orders.” “Humph! Come along.” They hastened up the Central Way, in a northerly direction. The rain had kept off, and the illuminations, which were superb, evidently met with the ecstatic approval of the Y.M.C.A. adherents, who paraded to and fro, and filled the flying cars, with the hectic enjoyment of people who feel that closing time is near. The progress made by Carpentaria and his companion was therefore not of the quickest. “It’s more than an hour since,” said Mr. Gloucester, daring to show his. discontent. “What is?” asked Carpentaria. “Since the crime occurred.” “The fellow must have calculated on my concert,” replied Carpentaria. “He probably knew that everybody in this City runs to me when the slightest thing goes wrong.” “The slightest thing!” repeated Mr. Gloucester bitterly--but not aloud, only in his secret soul.