When his meticulous search of the lower floor was completed he trudged up the steps again. In the orchestra he found Louis Panzer waiting, slightly flushed from his exertions but displaying a triumphant smile. The little manager was carrying a small parcel wrapped in brown paper.
“So you saw Cronin after all, Panzer?” said the Inspector, scurrying forward. “This is mighty nice of you, my boy—I appreciate it more than I can say. Is this the package Cronin gave you?”
“It is. A very nice chap, Cronin. I didn’t have to wait long after I telephoned you. He came in with two other men named Stoates and Lewin. He didn’t keep me more than ten minutes altogether. I hope it was important, Inspector?” Panzer continued, smiling. “I should like to feel that I’ve been instrumental in clearing up part of the puzzle.”
“Important?” echoed the Inspector, taking the parcel from the manager’s hand. “You have no idea how important it is. Some day I’ll tell you more about it. … Will you excuse me a moment, Panzer?”
The little man nodded in a fleeting disappointment as the Inspector grinned, backing off into a dark corner. Panzer shrugged and disappeared into his office.
When he came out, hat and coat left behind, the Inspector was stuffing the parcel into his pocket.
“Did you get what you wanted, sir?” inquired Panzer.
“Oh, yes, yes, indeed!” Queen said, rubbing his hands. “And now—I see Ellery is still gone—suppose we go into your office for a few minutes and while away the time until he returns.”
They went into Panzer’s sanctum and sat down. The manager lit a long Turkish cigarette while the Inspector dipped into his snuffbox.
“If I’m not presuming, Inspector,” said Panzer casually, crossing his short fat legs and emitting a cloud of smoke, “how are things going?”
Queen shook his head sadly. “Not so well—not so well. We don’t seem to be getting anywhere with the main angles of the case. In fact, I don’t mind telling you that unless we get on the track of a certain object we face failure. … It’s pretty hard on me—I’ve never encountered a more puzzling investigation.” He wore a worried frown as he snapped the lid of his snuffbox shut.
“That’s too bad, Inspector,” Panzer clucked in sympathy. “And I was hoping—Ah, well! We can’t put our personal concerns above the demands of justice, I suppose! Just what is it you are seeking, Inspector, if you don’t mind telling an outsider?”
Queen brightened. “Not at all. You’ve done me a good turn this morning and—By jingo, how stupid of me not to think of this before!” Panzer leaned forward eagerly. “How long have you been manager of the Roman Theatre, Panzer?”
The manager raised his eyebrows. “Ever since it was built,” he said. “Before that I managed the old Electra on 43rd Street—it is also owned by Gordon Davis,” he explained.
“Oh!” The Inspector seemed to reflect deeply. “Then you would know this theatre from top to bottom—you would be as familiar with its construction as the architect, perhaps?”
“I have a rather thorough knowledge of it, yes,” confessed Panzer, leaning back.
“That’s excellent! Let me give you a little problem, then, Panzer. … Suppose you wished to conceal a—let us say, a tophat—somewhere in the building, in such a way that not even an exhaustive search of the premises would bring it to light. What would you do? Where would you hide it?”
Panzer scowled thoughtfully at his cigarette. “A rather unusual question, Inspector,” he said at last, “and one which it is not easy to answer. I know the plans of the theatre very well; I was consulted about them in a conference with the architect before the theatre was built. And I can positively state that the original blueprints did not provide for such medieval devices as concealed passageways, secret closets or anything of that sort. I could enumerate any number of places where a man might hide a comparatively small object like a tophat, but none of them would be proof against a really thorough search.”
“I see.” The Inspector squinted at his fingernails in an appearance of disappointment. “So that doesn’t help. We’ve been over the place from top to bottom, as you know, and we can’t find a trace of it. …”
The door opened and Ellery, a trifle begrimed but wearing a cheerful smile, entered. The Inspector glanced at him in eager curiosity. Panzer rose hesitantly with the evident intention of leaving father and son alone. A flash of intelligence shot between the Queens.
“It’s all right, Panzer—don’t go,” said the Inspector peremptorily. “We’ve no secrets from you. Sit down, man!”
Panzer sat down.
“Don’t you think, dad,” remarked Ellery, perching on the edge of the desk and reaching for his pince-nez, “that this would be an opportune moment to inform Mr. Panzer of tonight’s opening? You remember we decided while he was gone that the theatre might be thrown open to the public this evening and a regular performance given. …”
“How could I have forgotten—!” said the Inspector without blinking, although this was the first time he had heard about the mythical decision. “I think we’re about ready, Panzer, to lift the ban on the Roman. We find that we can do nothing further here, so there is no reason for depriving you of your patronage any longer. You may run a performance tonight—in fact, we are most anxious to see a show put on, aren’t we, Ellery?”
“ ‘Anxious’ is hardly the word,” said Ellery, lighting a cigarette. “I should say we insist upon it.”
“Exactly,” murmured the Inspector severely. “We insist upon it, Panzer.”
The manager had
