The white-haired lady smiled and Ellery, taking her arm, led her off in the direction of the stage. Inspector Queen, looking after them wistfully, shrugged his shoulders after a moment and turned back to resume the search. A short time later, when he chanced to straighten up, he espied Ellery and Mrs. Phillips seated on the stage conversing earnestly, like two players rehearsing their rôles. Queen proceeded slowly up and down the rows, weaving in and out among the empty seats, shaking his head dolefully as he approached the last few rows still empty-handed. When he looked up again the two chairs on the stage held no occupants. Ellery and the old lady had disappeared. Queen came at last to LL32 Left—the seat in which Monte Field had died. He made a painstaking examination of the cushions, a light of resignation in his eyes. Muttering to himself he walked slowly across the carpet at the rear of the theatre and entered Panzer’s office. A few moments later he reappeared, only to make his way to the cubicle which was used as an office by the publicity man, Harry Neilson. He was in this compartment for some time. He came out and visited the cashiers’ offices. Shutting the door behind him when he had finished, he wended his way down the steps on the right of the theatre leading to the general lounge, on the floor below the orchestra. Here he took his time, delving into every corner, every niche in the wall, every waste-container—all of which he found to be empty. He speculatively eyed the large bin standing directly under the water-fountain. He peered into this receptacle and pottered away, finding nothing. Thereupon with a sigh he opened the door on which was gilt-lettered, ladies’ rest room, and went inside. A few moments later he reappeared to push his way through the swinging-doors marked gentlemen. When his meticulous search of the lower floor was completed he trudged up the steps again. In the orchestra he found Louis Panzer waiting, slightly flushed from his exertions but displaying a triumphant smile. The little manager was carrying a small parcel wrapped in brown paper. “So you saw Cronin after all, Panzer?” said the Inspector, scurrying forward. “This is mighty nice of you, my boy—I appreciate it more than I can say. Is this the package Cronin gave you?” “It is. A very nice chap, Cronin. I didn’t have to wait long after I telephoned you. He came in with two other men named Stoates and Lewin. He didn’t keep me more than ten minutes altogether. I hope it was important, Inspector?” Panzer continued, smiling. “I should like to feel that I’ve been instrumental in clearing up part of the puzzle.” “Important?” echoed the Inspector, taking the parcel from the manager’s hand. “You have no idea how important it is. Some day I’ll tell you more about it.... Will you excuse me a moment, Panzer?”