“Anything you say, Mr. Queen. I’ll instruct the cashier to put aside those tickets,” returned Panzer pleasantly. “And now, Inspector—you said you would telephone the press, I believe—?” “Certainly.” Queen took up the telephone and held pithy conversations with the city editors of a number of metropolitan newspapers. When he had finished Panzer bade them a hurried good-by to get busy with the telephone. Inspector Queen and his son strolled out into the orchestra, where they found Flint and the two detectives who had been examining the boxes awaiting them. “You men hang around the theatre on general principles,” ordered the Inspector. “Be particularly careful this afternoon.... Any of you find anything?” Flint scowled. “I ought to be digging clams in Canarsie,” he said with a disgruntled air. “I fell down on the job Monday night, Inspector, and I’m blamed if I could find a thing for you to-day. That place upstairs is swept as clean as a hound’s tooth. Guess I ought to go back to pounding a beat.” Queen slapped the big detective on the shoulder. “What’s the matter with you? Don’t be acting like a baby, lad. How on earth could you find anything when there wasn’t anything to find? You fellows get something?” he demanded, swinging on the other two men. They shook their heads in a gloomy negation. A moment later the Inspector and Ellery climbed into a passing taxicab and settled back for the short drive to headquarters. The old man carefully closed the glass sliding-window separating the driver’s seat from the interior of the car. “Now, my son,” he said grimly, turning on Ellery, who was puffing dreamily at a cigarette, “please explain to your old daddy that hocus-pocus in Panzer’s office!” Ellery’s lips tightened. He stared out of the window before replying. “Let me start this way,” he said. “You have found nothing in your search to-day. Nor have your men. And although I scouted about myself, I was just as unsuccessful. Dad, make up your mind to this one primary point: The hat which Monte Field wore to the performance of ‘Gunplay’ on Monday night, in which he was seen at the beginning of the second act, and which presumably the murderer took away after the crime was committed, _is not in the Roman Theatre now and has not been there since Monday night_. To proceed.” Queen stared at him with grizzled brows. “In all likelihood Field’s tophat no longer exists. I would stake my Falconer against your snuff-box that it has fled this life and now enjoys a reincarnation as ashes in the City dumps. That’s point number one.” “Go on,” commanded the Inspector. “Point number two is so elementary as to be infantile. Nevertheless, allow me the privilege of insulting the Queen intelligence.... If Field’s hat is not in the Roman Theatre now and has not been in the Roman Theatre since Monday night, it must of necessity have been taken _out_ of the Roman Theatre some time during the course of that evening!”