The Roman Hat Mystery

“Yes, sir. Velie also asked me to tell you,” continued Johnson, “that he has a group of people separated from the rest of the audience — they’re the ones who have no ticket stubs. He’d like to know what you want done with them.”

“Do their names appear on both lists, Johnson?” asked Queen, handing him the second sheaf for return to Velie.

“Yes, sir.”

“Then tell Velie to let them leave with the others, but not before he makes a special list of their names. It won’t be necessary for me to see or speak to them.”

Johnson saluted and disappeared.

Queen turned to converse in low tones with Ellery, who seemed to have something on his mind. They were interrupted by the reappearance of Panzer.

“Inspector?” The manager coughed politely.

“Oh, yes, Panzer!” said the Inspector, whirling about “Everything straight with regard to the cleaning women?”

“Yes, sir. Is there anything else you would like me to do...? And, Inspector, I hope you will pardon me for asking, but how much longer will the audience have to wait? I have been receiving most disturbing inquiries from many people. I am hoping no trouble comes of this affair.” His dark face was glistening with perspiration.

“Oh, don’t worry about that, Panzer,” said the Inspector casually. “Their wait is almost over. In fact I am ordering my men to get them out of here in a few minutes. Before they leave, however, they’ll have one thing more to complain about,” he added with a grim smile.

“Yes, Inspector?”

“Oh, yes,” said Queen. “They’re going to submit to a search. No doubt they’ll protest, and you’ll hear threats of lawsuits and personal violence, but don’t worry about it. I’m responsible for everything done here tonight, and I’ll see that you’re kept out of trouble... Now, we’ll need a woman searcher to help our men. We have a police matron here, but she’s busy downstairs. Do you think you could get me a dependable woman — middle-aged preferably — who won’t object to a thankless job and will know how to keep her mouth shut?”

The manager pondered for a moment. “I think I can get you the woman you want. She’s a Mrs. Phillips, our wardrobe mistress. She’s well on in years and as pleasant as anyone you could get for such a task.”

“Just the person,” said Queen briskly. “Get her at once and station her at the main exit. Detective-Sergeant Velie will give her the necessary instructions.”

Velie had come up in time to hear the last remark. Panzer bustled down the aisle toward the boxes.

“Morgan set?” asked Queen.

“Yes, Inspector.”

“Well, then, you have one more job and you’ll be through for the night, Thomas. I want you to superintend the departure of the people seated in the orchestra and boxes. Have them leave one by one, and overhaul them as they go out. No one is to leave by any exit except the main door, and just to make sure tell the men at the side exits to keep ’em moving toward the rear.” Velie nodded. “Now, about the search. Piggott!” The detective came on the run. “Piggott, you accompany Mr. Queen and Sergeant Velie and help search every man who goes out the main door. There’ll be a matron there to search the women. Examine every parcel. Go over their pockets for anything suspicious; collect all the ticket stubs; and watch especially for an extra hat. The hat I want is a silk topper. But if you find any other kind of extra hat, nab the owner and be sure he’s nabbed properly. Now, boys, get to work!”

Ellery, who had been lounging against a pillar, straightened up and followed Piggott. As Velie stalked behind, Queen called, “Don’t release the people in the balcony until the orchestra is empty. Send somebody up there to keep them quiet.”

With his last important instruction given the Inspector turned to Doyle, who was standing guard nearby, and said quietly, “Shoot downstairs to the cloakroom, Doyle, my lad, and keep your eyes open while the people are getting their wraps. When they’re all gone, search the place with a fine comb. If there is anything left in the racks, bring it to me.”

Queen leaned back against the pillar which loomed, a marble sentinel, over the seat in which murder had been done. As he stood there, eyes blank, hands clutching his lapels, the broad-shouldered Flint hurried up with a gleam of excitement in his eyes. Inspector Queen regarded him critically.

“Found something, Flint?” he asked, fumbling for his snuffbox.

The detective silently offered him a half-ticket, colored blue, and marked “LL30 Left.”

“Well, well!” exclaimed Queen. “Where did you find that?”

“Right inside the main door,” said Flint. “Looked as if it was dropped just as the owner came into the theatre.”

Queen did not answer. With a swooping dip of his fingers he extracted from his vest pocket the blue-colored stub he had found on the dead man’s person. He regarded them in silence — two identically colored and marked stubs, one with the inscription LL32 Left, the other LL30 Left.