“That was Edmund Crewe,” said Queen. “You remember I asked him yesterday morning to go over the Roman. He spent all of yesterday and today at it. And he reports positively that there is no secret hiding-place anywhere on the premises of the theatre. If Eddie Crewe, who is about the last word in architectural matters of this kind, says there’s no hiding-place there, you may rest assured it’s so.” He jumped to his feet and espied Djuna squatting on his hams in the corner. “Djuna! Get the old bed ready,” he roared. Djuna slipped through the room and disappeared with a silent grin. Queen wheeled on Ellery, who had already taken off his coat and was fumbling with his tie. “The first thing we do to-morrow morning is go down to the Roman Theatre and start all over again!” the old man said decisively. “And let me tell you, son—I’m through fooling around! Somebody’d better watch out!” Ellery affectionately encircled his father’s shoulders with one great arm. “Come on to bed, you old fraud!” he laughed. PART THREE _“A good detective is born, not made. Like all genius, he springs not from a carefully nurtured_ polizei _but from all mankind. The most amazing detective I ever knew was a dirty old witch-doctor who had never been out of the bush.... It is the peculiar gift of the truly great detective that he can apply to the inexorable rules of logic three catalyzers: an abnormal observation of events, a knowledge of the human mind and an insight into the human heart.”_ —_From_ The Man-Hunter’s Manual, _By_ James Redix (the Younger). CHAPTER XIV IN WHICH THE HAT GROWS On Thursday, September 27th, the third morning after the events of the crime in the Roman Theatre, Inspector Queen and Ellery rose at an early hour and dressed hastily. They repaired to a makeshift breakfast under the protesting eye of Djuna, who had been pulled bodily from his bed and thrust into the sober habiliments which he affected as major-domo of the Queen ménage. While they were munching at anæmic pancakes, the old man asked Djuna to get Louis Panzer on the telephone. In a few moments the Inspector was speaking genially into the mouthpiece. “Good morning, Panzer. Please forgive me for hauling you out of bed at this ungodly time of the morning.... There’s something important in the wind and we need your help.” Panzer murmured a sleepy reassurance. “Can you come down to the Roman Theatre right away and open it for us?” went on the old man. “I told you that you wouldn’t be shut down very long and now it looks as if you’ll be able to cash in on the publicity the affair has been getting. I’m not sure when we can reopen, you understand, but it’s barely possible that you’ll be able to put your show on to-night. Can I count on you?”