As time for the curtain to rise drew near, Hedin found himself
fidgeting nervously. Had the theatre party been called off? The house
was already well filled; surely there was no block of vacant seats that
would accommodate a dinner party. Then, as he had about given up hope,
he raised his eyes to a box just as Jean McNabb entered, followed
closely by Wentworth. Hedin stared as if petrified, brushed his hand
across his eyes as though to clear his vision of distorting film, and
stared again. For Wentworth was lifting a coat from Jean's shoulders,
but it was not a sable one. Seizing his hat and coat, Hedin rushed
from the building, narrowly avoiding collision with an usher.

Without pausing to put on his coat, he dashed for the store and letting
himself in, took the stairs three at a time. Upon the second flight,
he met the night watchman who, recognizing him, allowed him to pass,
but noting his evident agitation and unaccountable haste, silently and
discreetly followed and took up a position where he could watch every
move of the excited department head. Hastening to the fur safe, Hedin
unlocked and threw it open. He switched on the light, and peered into
the interior. The Russian sable coat was not in its accustomed place.
And a hurried search of the safe showed that it was in no other place.
Closing the door, he inspected the case that contained the less
valuable furs, and it was but the work of a moment to discover that the
baum marten coat was missing. Dumbfounded, he stared at the empty
space where the coat should have been. His brief inspection in the
theatre had told him this was the coat Jean McNabb was wearing--but
where was the sable? He distinctly remembered replacing the marten
with his own hands, and of seeing the girl pass down the aisle wearing
the sable.

He sank into his chair and, leaning forward, buried his face in his