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Chan turned to the girl. “Miss Fane was wearing to-night pretty nice bouquet of orchids on shoulder?”

Julie nodded. “Yes.”

“Fastened with pin, no doubt?”

“Of course.”

“Did you by any chance note the pin?”

“No, I didn’t. But I remember her saying she was going to her room to get one. Perhaps her maid can tell you about that.”

“Are you in position to know who it was sent those orchids?”

“I am,” Julie replied. “There was no name, but Miss Fane recognized the writing on the card. She said they came from her ex-husband, Bob somebody—he’s an actor playing with a stock company in Honolulu.”

“Bob Fyfe,” explained Rita Ballou. “He’s in the company down at the Royal. They were married when Shelah was quite young, and I believe she was always very fond of him, even after their divorce.”

Alan Jaynes rose and, taking a small cigar from a case, lighted it, then walked nervously about the room, seeking a place to throw the match.

“A discarded husband,” mused Charlie. “Ah, yes, I would expect at least one of those. This man should be notified at once, and arrive here with all speed possible.”

“I’ll attend to it, Charlie,” offered Jimmy Bradshaw.

“Warmest thanks,” Chan remarked. As the boy left the room, he turned to the others. “We now resume somewhat rude questioning. Mr. Van Horn, you are actor, perhaps?”