One by one the various people possibly concerned in the two crimes joined the group.  This morning all the faces were serious; most of them showed the marks of sleeplessness following the second murder.  Kennedy walked away, but I saw that Jack Gordon hastened to question both the girls, ignoring their evident dislike for him.  Among the others I recognized Watkins, the camera man, and his associate.  Lawrence Millard came in and hastened to the side of Enid.  As he drew her away to ask the cause of the gathering I wondered at his early presence.  The scenario writer was typical of them all.  The strange and unusual nature of the crimes, the evident relationship between them, had drawn the employees of Manton Pictures to the studio as a crowd of baseball fans collects before a public bulletin board.  Not one of them but was afraid of missing some development in the case.  In no instance could the interest of a particular individual be taken as an indication of guilt.

Phelps entered the studio from the door to the dressing rooms.  Disdaining to join the other group, he approached us to ask the cause for the excitement.  Kennedy explained, patiently, and I saw that Phelps looked at the black bag uneasily.

“I hope the guilty party is not a member of the company,” he muttered.

“Why?” Kennedy’s mouth tightened.

The financier grew red.  “Because this picture has been crippled enough.  First a new star; now a new director—­if it wasn’t so preposterous I’d believe that it was all part of a deliberate—­” He stopped as if realizing suddenly the inadvisability of vague accusations.

“Don’t you want justice done?” Kennedy inquired.

“Of course!” Phelps tugged at his collar uncomfortably.  “Of course, Mr. Kennedy.”  Then he turned and hurried away, out of the studio.

Gordon and Millard detached themselves from the others, coming over.

“In which washroom was the towel found, Mr. Kennedy?” Gordon put the question as though he felt himself specially delegated to obtain this information.

I wondered how Kennedy would evade a direct answer.  To my surprise he made no attempt at concealment.

“The one on the second floor of the office building.”

Millard laughed, facing Gordon.  “That puts it on myself—­or the big boss!”

It struck me that the leading man was uneasy as he hurried back to the others.  Millard, still smiling, turned to say something to us, but we were joined by Manton, entering from the other end of the big inclosure.

“Good morning,” the promoter exclaimed, somewhat breathless.  “I just learned you were here.  Is—­is there some new development.  Is there something I can do?”

“I see you are not allowing anything to interfere with the making of the picture,” Kennedy remarked.  “All the people seem to be here bright and early.”

A shadow crept into Manton’s face.  “It seems almost as cold-blooded as—­as war,” he admitted.  “But I can’t help myself, Mr. Kennedy.  The company has no money and if we don’t meet this release we’re busted.”  All at once he lowered his voice eagerly.  “Tell me, have you discovered something?  Is there some clue to the guilty man?”