As they drew up in front of the Ajax Studios a long extension ladder was being carried to a fire department truck at the corner.

"Fire?" inquired Dawson of Carroll, at his side.

"Naw! That was my night's exercise," the detective husked in a tired voice. "That bloody knife was sticking in a rafter—you had to be an eagle to find the damned thing!"

A plainclothesman spoke to Corot. "All surrounded, Inspector."

Quickly they passed through the long hallway of the administration building into the darkened interior of the studio.

"You and Carroll know your stuff," the head of detectives said, as they neared the door to the big lot. "So be on your toes." He passed through the door, and paused to watch the activities of the Western pictures company on outside location.

ADIRECTOR on a platform was megaphoning directions to a group of bandit- like figures on horseback. Cameras and a sound- truck were being moved in the foreground. Far to one side stood Ned Lane, beside the beautiful white steed that was as much a part of his pictures as himself.

Corot appeared aimless in his movements, but presently Dawson became aware that he had an objective. This became more evident as he saw that Moody and Carroll, too, were approaching in a similar manner from different directions. They were closing in on someone. Walter Dawson caught his breath in quick discovery. For the only person within the triangle formed by the man- hunters was Ned Lane!

So intent was the new screen-hero on the action in the foreground that he was unaware of the approach of the detectives. A minute later, the two-gun actor wheeled around and faced an accosting officer.

"Lane," Corot asked peremptorily, without any preamble, "where were you when that murder occurred on Stage A?"