tly the arrangement of the theatre--the seats in front;
tables all through the centre; a gallery filled with benches; a noisy
orchestra beneath the stage; a crowded audience of men, with only here
and there a scattered representative of the gentler sex; busy waiters
dodging in and out among the tables, and down the aisles, filling orders
for liquids from the nearby saloon. The air would be pungent with the
odor of drink, thick with the fumes of tobacco, and noisy with voices,
except as some special favorite on the stage won temporary attention.
The Trocadero possessed but one redeeming feature--no doorway connected
stage and auditorium, and the management brooked no interference with
his artists. It had required some nerve to originally enforce this
rule, together with a smart fight or two, but at this period it was
acknowledged and respected. No sooner had Hawley vanished than Keith
found occasion to enter into casual conversation with the door-keeper,
asking a number of questions, and leaving impressed upon the mind
of that astute individual the idea that he was dealing with a "gent"
enamored of one of the stage beauties. A coin slipped quietly into the
man's hand served to deepen this impression, and unlocked discreet lips
otherwise sworn to secrecy. Out of much general information a little of
real value was thus extracted--Miss Maclaire's act began at 9:45 and was
over promptly at 10:10. It required about twenty minutes more for her
to change again into street clothes, and she usually left the theatre
immediately after, which would be about 10:30. Yes, there was a
vestibule outside the stage door, and on bad nights, those waiting
for the ladies could slip in there. But on such a night as this they
generally hung around outside. No, there was no watchman, but the
manager was frequently prowling around. He'd be busy, however, at 10:30,
getting the stage ready for the "Flying Hermanns." Abundantly satisfied
and resisting the door-keeper's professional suggestion that he'd
better buy a ticket and take a look at the show, Keith slipped away, and
hastened back to the hotel. The more he investigated the more feasible
appeared the girl's plan, and he was now fully committed to it.

Chapter XXVIII. The Stage Door of the Trocadero

Hope discovered very little difficulty in duplicating the outer garments
Keith reported Miss Maclaire as wearing. The colors, indeed, were
not exactly the same, yet this difference was no