“Look! He's left the 'bus. He's going into the Park Theatre.”
So he was. His slim person was easily distinguishable in the wealth of electric light that flooded the street upon which looked the broad doorways and the allegorical facades of the Park.
The second act of “La Belle Helene” was not yet over when Appleton entered and stood at the rear of the parquet circle. He indifferently watched the finale, made some mental comments upon the white flowing gown of Pauline Hall, the make-up of Fred Solomon, and the grotesqueness of the five Hellenic kings. Then he scanned the audience.
Haslam and Amy dismounted near the theatre and entrusted the bicycle to a small boy's care. When they had bought admission tickets and reached the lobby, the gay finale of the second act was being given. The curtain fell, was called up three times, and then people began to pour forth from the entrance to drink, smoke, or enjoy the air in the entr'acte.
Appleton was involved in the movement of those who resorted to the little garden with flowers and fountain and asphalt paving, accessible through the northern exits. He paused for a time by the fountain, not sufficiently curious to join the crowd that stood gaping at the apertures through which the members of the chorus could be seen ascending the stairs to the upper dressing-rooms, many of them carolling scraps of song from the opera as they went.
Appleton soon reëntered the lobby and again surveyed the audience closely. Haslam caught sight of him just in time to avoid him. Amy had resumed the concealment of her veil.
To the surprise of his watchers, Appleton left the theatre before the third act opened. Again he jumped upon a 'bus, but this time it was upon one moving northward.
“It looks as if he were going back to the Grand Opera House,” suggested Amy, as she and her companion started to repossess the bicycle.
“His movements are a trifle unaccountable,” said Haslam, thoughtfully.
“Ah! Now you admit he is acting queerly. Perhaps you'll see I was quite right.”