Stepping forward, as though to avoid persons who were crowding him, he let his hand rest against the pocket of the black overcoat that the first man was wearing.
The blue-clad man moved away immediately. His hand was empty. Lamont Cranston could see his face, but even those keen watching eyes could not distinguish the features clearly at so great a distance.
Cranston’s gaze returned to the first man, who was still looking in the window. The fellow began to shift restlessly; then he, too, sauntered away. Cranston caught a glimpse of a dark-visaged countenance.
Both men were lost in the crowd. Lamont Cranston was staring indifferently from the window. The camera man spoke to him.
“Just about the end of the reel,” he remarked. “Do you want me to take another shot?”
“That’s sufficient,” said Cranston.
When the camera man had gone, Cranston remained by the window. He acted as though he might be expecting some unusual news.
Fifteen minutes passed. The telephone rang. Cranston answered it. He heard the excited voice of Griscom.
“That you, Cranston? Can you come down to the theater office? The detectives stopped two men who were causing a disturbance in the lobby! They brought them into the office! Ballantyne is talking to the men now! I should like to have you see them!”
CRANSTON went down in the elevator. Between the entrance to the office building and the theater itself was a cigar store. He stopped there and purchased several packages of cigarettes — each of a different popular brand. He placed them in various pockets.