On their way through the main office, now empty except for Hesse, Lewin and Stoates, Queen beckoned to the detective. “Go home, Hesse,” he said kindly. “Can’t have you coming down with the grippe.” Hesse grinned and sped through the door. In a few minutes Inspector Queen was sitting in his private office at Center Street. Ellery termed it “the star chamber.” It was small and cozy and homelike. Ellery draped himself over a chair and began to con the books on handwriting which he had filched from Field’s apartment and office. The Inspector pressed a buzzer and the solid figure of Thomas Velie loomed in the doorway. “Morning, Thomas,” said Queen. “What is this remarkable news you have for me from Browne Bros.?” “I don’t know how remarkable it is, Inspector,” said Velie coolly, seating himself in one of the straight-backed chairs which lined the wall, “but it sounded like the real thing to me. You told me last night to find out about Field’s tophat. Well, I’ve an exact duplicate of it on my desk. Like to see it?” “Don’t be silly, Thomas,” said Queen. “On the run!” Velie departed and was back in a moment carrying a hatbox. He tore the string and uncovered a shining tophat, of such fine quality that Queen blinked. The Inspector picked it up curiously. On the inside was marked the size: 7⅛. “I spoke to the clerk, an old-timer, down at Browne’s. Been waiting on Field for years,” resumed Velie. “It seems that Field bought every stitch of his clothing there—for a long time. And it happens that he preferred one clerk. Naturally the old buzzard knows quite a bit about Field’s tastes and purchases. “He says, for one thing, that Field was a fussy dresser. His clothes were always made to order by Browne’s special tailoring department. He went in for fancy suits and cuts and the latest in underclothes and neckwear....” “What about his taste in hats?” interposed Ellery, without looking up from the book he was reading. “I was coming to that, sir,” continued Velie. “This clerk made a particular point of the hat business. For instance, when I questioned him about the tophat, he said: ‘Mr. Field was almost a fanatic on the subject. Why, in the last six months he has bought no less than _three_ of them!’ I caught that up, of course—made him check back with the sales-records. Sure enough, Field bought three silk-toppers in the last half-year!” Ellery and his father found themselves staring at each other, the same question on their lips. “Three—” began the old man. “Now ... isn’t that an extraordinary circumstance?” asked Ellery slowly, reaching for his pince-nez. “Where in heaven’s name are the other two?” continued Queen, in a bewildered manner. Ellery was silent. Queen turned impatiently toward Velie. “What else did you find out, Thomas?”