As soon as I was out of sight of the theater I opened the bag and went through it. To my disappointment it contained only things that were clearly professional props—some scarves, a wand, and several pieces of false hair, including a variety of mustaches, a box of matches, a packet of cigarettes, and a new jar of makeup-removing cream. But nothing incriminating or threatening. No letters. No addresses.

It didn’t take long to find Morgan Highfield’s office on Lower Broadway for which I was glad, as I was now carrying two bags. Scarpelli’s was remarkably heavy, given the contents, and it seemed to get heavier by the minute. The office was in a seedy area and up on the third floor so that I was panting and sweaty by the time I made it up all those steep stairs. A balding, paunchy man was sitting with his feet up on his desk, wearing no tie and his shirt collar open, and smoking a cigar.

“And what can I do for you, little lady?” he asked, not bothering to remove his feet.

I held out the bag and said that I’d come from Miner’s Theatre, where I’d also been working and thought that he might want to forward the bag to Scarpelli.

“Thank you, my dear. Most obliged. Very kind of you,” he said. “I can certainly do that.”

“You know where he is?”

“I haven’t heard a peep from him since he took off that night,” he said. It came out smoothly enough, but I got a feeling that he did know but wasn’t going to say.

“So how will you know where to forward his things?” I asked.

“It’s my belief that he was shocked beyond belief about what happened,” he said. “So what do you do when you’ve had a shock? You go home to recover. I expect he’s gone home to Boston. And when he’s ready to pick himself up again, who’s the first one he’s going to contact? His agent, of course.”

“Boston?”

“That’s where he’s from. Poor man. I bet he just can’t face talking to anybody at the moment. I know how he feels. What a terrible tragedy.”

I nodded agreement. “I was in the theater. I witnessed it. It was horrible.”

He leaned closer to me so that his paunch draped over his desk. “I really can’t understand how it happened. He swore to me that the trick was foolproof. It’s my belief that someone tinkered with his equipment. Jammed it, you know.”

“Why would someone do that?”