Returning quickly to his lodgings, Poole invested himself in the suit of immaculate evening clothes, the light black overcoat, and “stouted” top-hat, which were the carefully preserved relics of his less sombre past. There had always seemed a possibility of their coming in useful, and now Poole was glad of his foresight in keeping them by him and in good order. After standing himself a good, though light, dinner and a half-bottle of Cliquot at the Savoy Grill, with the object of imbibing the necessary “atmosphere,” Poole strolled round to the stage-door of the “Inanity” a little before nine. He knew that the interval would not take place before a quarter past at the earliest, so that he had plenty of time for a heart-to-heart with Mr. Gabb. The result more than fulfilled his expectations. Gabb knew Ryland Fratten well, and all about his various affairs of the heart. He liked him, but he clearly felt a certain contempt for a man who, no longer a callow boy, wasted his life in fluttering about these tinsel attractions. Fratten’s latest flame was Miss Julie Vermont; she had a small speaking part in the piece now on. The affair had lasted about six months—longer than usual—and more serious than usual, though there had been a hitch in it lately. At this moment, the swing-door leading into the theatre was pushed open and a girl in the exaggerated dress of a parlour-maid so popular on the lighter stage, stood for a moment in the doorway. She was extremely pretty, in a rather hard way, with closely-shingled auburn hair; Poole noticed a diamond and platinum ring on the third finger of the well-manicured hand that held open the door. “Oh, Gabb,” she said, “if Mr. Gossington comes round tell him I can’t come out tonight, will you?” Gabb made an inarticulate grunt and scribbled upon a pad in front of him. With a quick glance at the attractive figure of the detective, the girl vanished. “‘Talk of the devil,’” said Gabb; “that’s his girl—Mr. Fratten’s that is—Miss Vermont. At least she was, but it’s cooled off a bit lately, I think, diamond ring and all. Maybe something to do with his father’s death. Anyway he hasn’t been round lately and she’s been going out with this young Gossington—Porky Gossington’s boy in the Blues, he is. Here’s the interval now, sir.”