He checked himself suddenly, and stood, clutching the railing, bent
forward and staring into the audience. Bassett watched him, considerably
surprised. It took a great deal to startle a theatrical publicity man,
yet here was one who looked as though he had seen a ghost.

After a time Gregory straightened and moistened his dry lips.

"There's a man sitting down there--see here, the sixth row, next the
aisle; there's a girl in a blue dress beside him. See him? Do you know
who he is?"

"Never saw him before."

For perhaps two minutes Gregory continued to stare. Then he moved over
to the side of the house and braced against the wall continued his close
and anxious inspection. After a time he turned away and, passing behind
the boxes, made his way into the wings. Bassett's curiosity was aroused,
especially when, shortly after, Gregory reappeared, bringing with him
a small man in an untidy suit who was probably, Bassett surmised, the
stage manager.

He saw the small man stare, nod, stand watching, and finally disappear,
and Gregory resume his former position and attitude against the side
wall. Throughout the last act Gregory did not once look at the stage. He
continued his steady, unwavering study of the man in the sixth row seat
next the aisle, and Bassett continued his study of the little man.

His long training made him quick to scent a story. He was not sure, of
course, but the situation appeared to him at least suggestive. With the
end of the play he wandered out with the crowd, edging his way close to
the man and girl who had focused Gregory's attention, and following them
into the street. He saw only a tall man with a certain quiet distinction
of bearing, and a young and pretty girl, still flushed and excited, who
went up the street a short distance and got into a small and shabby car.
Bassett noted, carefully, the license number of the car.