"The young man who came to the supper-table was a languid and fashionable youth, who, having run through his money, had gone on the stage to delight the public. As yet he had not made a success, and, judging from his looks, never would. Having got into trouble over some gambling debt, he had enlisted the services of Jasher. That astute gentleman had managed to settle the affair, and Hart was consequently willing to be friendly. He sat down with a bored air, and declared that he was almost dead. He acknowledged his introduction to Bocaros with a slight and supercilious nod. "You work too hard," said Jasher, when Mr. Hart was engaged in eating. "It's hard work hanging round the theatre waiting for a chance," said the other. "You have got one," said the detective; "ain't you engaged at the Frivolity Theatre?" "Only as Calvert's understudy," said the discontented youth. "I have to be at the theatre waiting for my chance should he fall ill. He's too clever to let me go on, and he can't act a bit. I could make a magnificent part of the one he spoils." And Hart began to explain the lines upon which he would--as he put it--create the part. "Have you never had an opportunity of playing?" asked the professor, piling up little bits of bread in a listless manner. "I had once," said Hart frankly, "but just my bad luck. I messed up the chance." "Ah," said Jasher quickly, "how was that?" "Well, don't you say anything," said Hart, glancing round, "as it would do me harm with the profession. Nobody will take much notice so long as it ain't talked about. It's only known in the theatre, and Calvert, who is a good-natured sort of chap, promised to hold his tongue." "Oh," said Bocaros, meaningly, and looking up with eagerness, "he promised to hold his tongue, did he? About what?" "My messing up my chance. You see Calvert didn't feel well one night, and I went on. I did act A1, and was scoring all round, when I got so excited that I fell ill. My heart ain't very strong," added the youth, "and that's why I can't take Turkish baths." "Well, well," said Jasher, looking a very benevolent stout gentleman, and sipping his wine with relish, "what happened when you fell ill?" "Why, they had to send for Calvert. Luckily he was at his lodgings." "Also ill?" put in the professor. "No. He said he was ill, but he wasn't. He came and took my place for the last act, and they said he never acted better in his life." "About what time does the third act commence?" "About ten." "And Calvert came to the theatre at that time?" "A few minutes before," said Hart, attacking some cheese. "So he was disengaged on that evening up to that time. Ill at home?" "He was away from the theatre, if that is what you mean," said the young man, "but he wasn't ill, so far as I know, in spite of what he said. It was a fake of some sort. I guess there was a girl in it." "What do you mean?" asked Bocaros excitedly.