First of all, he had questioned Joe Lynch, the young fellow whose job it had been to keep any one save the detective and the manager from passing either way through the communicating door. “Your name is Joe Lynch, you say?” “Yes, sir.” “You have already said that you stood there by the communicating door during the dark scene, Lynch?” “Yes, sir.” “Just there?” “As near as I can say, sir, yes. I was close up here by the door. My orders was to keep it shut except for the detectives or Mr. Dukane.” “And did you know why?” “Why, how do you mean, sir?” “Did you understand why the orders were so strict to-night of all nights?” “Oh, that. Yes, sir; I knew there’d been some talk of Mr. Mortimer being in some sort of danger.” “Who told you?” “Why, I couldn’t say, sir. I don’t rightly know. Them things gets about. Anyhow, I knew that; and I was, so to speak, sort o’ set on taking care of Mr. Mortimer.” “Did you like him, then?” The young man’s dull eyes opened wide. “Me, sir?” he said, in surprise. “I never see him to talk to. But I was wanting to do my part. Mr. Dukane and Mr. Barrison, too, told me I was to look sharp. So I did.” “Ah! You did, eh? You looked sharp, eh?” “Yes, sir.” “Sure?” “Why, yes, sir! Course I did! I—I was keen on showing I was as quick as the next.” “Ah! How were you going to show that?” Young Lynch laughed frankly, yet with a sort of embarrassment, too. “Well, sir, Mr. Dukane, he offered twenty-five dollars either to Mr. Roberts or me if we could spot any one trying anything suspicious, or anything.” “_Ah!_” The inspector’s laconic monosyllable sounded a bit sharper than usual. “So that was it! Lynch, you were standing there when you heard the shot?” “Yes, sir, as near as I can say now, in these very tracks.” The inspector stood beside him and let his eyes move slowly from the big door beside them to the little flight of steps where the star had met his death. “Mighty narrow way to pass,” he murmured, half to himself. “Sir?” said Lynch respectfully. The inspector continued to measure distances with his eye. “You see,” he said to Lynch, “if you will draw a straight line from here where we stand, past the angle of the property-room corner to the entrance where Mr. Mortimer was waiting, do you see what I mean?” Lynch looked obediently where he was directed. “No, sir,” he said, after he had looked. Lowry sighed gently. “Not much space to pass any one, anyway,” he murmured. Lynch looked at him, still blankly. “Lynch,” said the inspector, “if I were in your place, and had a chance of making twenty-five dollars if I caught any one, and while I was on duty like this, and heard a shot——” He paused, not seeming to look at Lynch, but really noting every shadow and light that passed over his face. “If I were, in short, as you had been situated, I should have left my post when I heard that shot and run forward toward the man I was supposed to guard. I think I should have considered it my duty.”