"Where are you going?"

"To the Actors' Club, or a dozen other places, until I find Harry
Griffiths. He's one of the comedians in the company at the ---- Theatre,
and he has a leading part in that piece to-morrow night. He'll know where
that tune came from."

"As you please," said the amiable doctor. "But I must go home. You can tell
me the result of your investigation to-morrow. It may lead to nothing, but
it will be interesting pastime."

"And again," I said, putting on my overcoat, "it may lead to something.
I'll see you to-morrow. Good night."

I found Griffiths at the Actors' Club, telling stories over a mutton-chop
and a bottle of champagne. When the opportunity came I drew him aside.

"I have bet with a man about a certain air in the new piece. He says it's
in the original score, and I say it's introduced, because I don't think
Millocker did it. This is it," and I whistled it.

"Quite right, my boy. It's not in the original. Miss Elton's part was so
small that she refused to play until the manager agreed to let her fatten
it up. So Weinmann composed that and put--"

"This Weinmann," I interrupted, abruptly, "what do you know about him? Who
is he?"

"He's Gustav Weinmann, the new musical director. I don't know anything