"An admirable sight—a London theatre crowd."
"Very," said the millionaire, drily.
"Celebrities on every hand—Montague Fallock, for instance, is here."
Farrington nodded.
"And that wise-looking young man in the very end seat of the fourth row—he is in the shadow, but you may see him."
"T. B. Smith," said Farrington, shortly. "I have seen him—I have seen everybody but——"
"But——?"
"The occupant of the royal box. She keeps in the shadow all the time. She is not a detective, too, I suppose?" he asked, sarcastically. He looked round. Frank Doughton, his niece and Lady Dinsmore were engrossed in conversation.
"Poltavo," he said, dropping his voice, "I want to know who that woman is in the opposite box—I have a reason."
The orchestra was playing a soft intermezzo, and of a sudden the lights went down in the house, hushed to silence as the curtain went slowly up upon the second act.