She looked round at him. His head was resting on the plush-covered ledge of the box. His face, turned towards her, was grey; the eyes were closed, and his teeth showed in a hideous grin. She screamed. “Monty! Monty!” She shook him. Again her scream rang through the house. At first the audience thought that it was a woman driven hysterical by the tenseness of the stage situation, and then one or two people rose from their stalls and looked up. “Monty! Speak to me! He’s dead, he’s dead!” Three seats in the front row had emptied. The screams of the hysterical girl made it impossible for the scene to proceed, and the curtain came down quickly. The house was seething with excitement. Every face was turned towards the box where she knelt by the side of the dead man, clasping him in her arms, and the shrill agony in her voice was unnerving. The door of the box swung open, and Manfred dashed in. One glance he gave at Monty Newton, and he needed no other. “Get the girl out,” he said curtly. Leon tried to draw her from the box, but she was a shrieking fury. “You did it, you did it! . . . Let me go to him!” Leon lifted her from her feet, and, clawing wildly at his face, she was carried from the box. The manager was running along the passage, and Leon sent him on with a jerk of his head. And then a woman in evening dress came from somewhere. “May I take her?” she said, and the exhausted girl collapsed into her arms. Gonsalez flew back to the box. The man was lying on the floor, and the manager, standing at the edge of the box, was addressing the audience. “The gentleman has fainted, and I’m afraid his friend has become a little hysterical. I must apologize to you, ladies and gentlemen, for this interruption. If you will allow us a minute to clear the box, the play will be resumed. If there is a doctor in the house, I should be glad if he would come.” There were two doctors within reach, and in the passage, which was now guarded by a commissionaire, a hasty examination was made. They examined the punctured wound at the back of the neck and then looked at one another. “This is The Snake,” said one. “The house mustn’t know,” said Manfred. “He’s dead, of course?” The doctor nodded. Out in the passage was a big emergency exit door, and this the manager pushed open, and, running out into the street, found a cab, into which all that was mortal of Monty Newton was lifted. Whilst this was being done, Poiccart returned. “His car has just driven off,” he said. “I saw the number-plate as it turned into Lisle Street.” “How long ago?” asked Gonsalez quickly. “At this very moment.” Leon pinched his lip thoughtfully. “Why didn’t he wait, I wonder?” He went back through the emergency door, which was being closed, and passed up the passage towards the entrance. The box was on the dress-circle level, and the end of a short passage brought him into the circle itself.