"In the dark—and a knife," observed Corot quietly. "I take it you have not found the weapon?"

"I have made no search," said the director jerkily. "I rather thought I might bungle things up."

"Ah!" breathed the officer. "If there were more like you, a copper's lot might be easier."

He walked across the stage and bent his slight form over the body of the dead actress. Then he straightened up, his keen eyes darting in every direction. One moment they appeared to be measuring the distance between some players and the body, the next following different angles from the cameras and batteries of standing light. The arrival of the Medical Examiner interrupted these proceedings. He walked back to where Tad Boone stood, waiting.

"I imagine your actors are about ready to drop," he commented to the director. "Suppose we assemble them somewhere where I can question them later... We may have to make a search, you know." He called two uniformed men to him. "Escort the members of the company to the room Mr. Boone shows you," he ordered "and don't let them out of your sight." To Detective Sergeant Moody, one of his aides from Headquarters, he added: "Those fellows—cameramen, electricians—so on—get them together somewhere; Detective Carroll will take charge."

THE Medical Examiner glanced up. "Death instantaneous, Inspector!" he exclaimed. "A savage wound, a thrust through the heart! Why, man, the slayer had to work the blade up and down before he could withdraw it!"

"The man?" "Only a man—with the strength of a brute— could inflict such a wound," vigorously asserted the examiner. "It's demoniacal!"

"Then that lets the women out," said Corot, with a short laugh. "Except as accessories. Can you figure out anything about the size of the knife, Doctor?"

An unusual one," was the startling answer. "If I were back in the Philippines, on my old job, I'd swear it was made by a bolo."