“I see.... And do you recall anything of her appearance? Was she young or old? What did she wear?” The old lady looked troubled. “I don’t exactly remember, sir,” she quavered. “I wasn’t paying—” A high, clear voice interrupted from the rear. Heads twisted about. Madge O’Connell had jumped to her feet. “You don’t have to mess around with that any more. Inspector,” she announced coldly. “That lady saw _me_ walking down the aisle and back again. That was before I—you know.” She winked pertly in the Inspector’s direction. People gasped. The old lady stared with pitiful bewilderment at the usherette, then at the Inspector and finally sat down. “I’m not surprised,” said the Inspector quietly. “Well, anybody else?” There was no answer. Realizing that the company might feel shy of announcing their thoughts in public Queen started up the aisle, working from row to row, questioning each person separately in tones inaudible to the rest. When he had finished he returned slowly to his original position. “I see that I must allow you ladies and gentlemen to return to your peaceful firesides. Thank you very much for your help.... Dismissed!” He flung the word at them. They stared at him dazedly, then rose in muttering groups, took up their coats and hats and under Velie’s stern eye began to file out of the theatre. Hilda Orange, standing in the group behind the last row, sighed. “It’s almost embarrassing to see that poor old gentleman’s disappointment,” she whispered to the others. “Come on, folks, let’s be going, too.” The actors and actresses left the theatre among the departing company. When the last man and woman had disappeared, the Inspector marched back up the aisle and stood gloomily staring at the little group who were left. They seemed to sense the seething fire in the old man and they cowered. But the Inspector, with a characteristic lightning change of front, became human again. He sat down in one of the seats and folded his arms over the back, surveying Madge O’Connell, Parson Johnny and the others. “All right, folks,” he said in a genial tone. “How about you, Parson? You’re a free man, you don’t have to worry about silks any more and you can speak up now like any self-respecting citizen. Can you give us any help in this affair?” “Naw,” grunted the little gangster. “I told you all I knew. Ain’t got a thing to say.” “I see.... You know, Parson, that we’re interested in your dealings with Field.” The gangster looked up in shocked surprise. “Oh, yes,” continued the Inspector. “We want you to tell us sometime about your business with Mr. Field in the past. You’ll keep that in mind, won’t you?... Parson,” he said sharply, “who killed Monte Field? Who had it in for him? If you know—out with it!”