The Mind of Mr. J. G. Reeder · The Troupe (3/3)

He chatted on purely commercial topics until the clerk returned and laid a heap of bills and banknotes on the table. Mr. Lomer produced a wallet, enclosed the money securely, shook hands with the manager and walked out into the general office. And then he stopped, for Mr. J. G. Reeder stood squarely in his path.

“Payday for the troupe, Mr. Lomer⁠—or do you call it ‘treasury’? My theatrical glossary is rather rusty.”

“Why, Mr. Reeder,” stammered Art, “glad to see you, but I’m rather busy just now⁠—”

“What do you think has happened to our dear friend, Mr. Bertie Claude Staffen?” asked Reeder anxiously.

“Why, he’s in Paris.”

“So soon!” murmured Reeder. “And the police only took him out of your suburban cellar an hour ago! How wonderful are our modern systems of transportation! Marlow one minute, Paris the next, and Moscow, let us say, the next.”

Art hesitated no longer. He dashed past, thrusting the detective aside, and flew for the door. He was so annoyed that the two men who were waiting for him had the greatest difficulty in putting the handcuffs on his wrists.

“Yes, sir,” said Mr. Reeder to his chief, “Art always travels with his troupe. The invisibility of the troupe was to me a matter for grave suspicion, and of course I’ve had the house under observation ever since Mr. Staffen disappeared. It is not my business, of course,” he said apologetically, “and really I should not have interfered. Only, as I have often explained to you, the curious workings of my mind⁠—”