Shirley rose, clenching his fists.  For several moments he stood gazing down at the star with an expression on his face which I could not analyze.  The pause gave me an opportunity to study him, however, and I noticed that while he had heavier features than Gordon, and was a larger man in every way, ideally endowed for heavy parts, there was yet a certain boyish freshness clinging to him in subtle fashion.  He wore his clothes in a loose sort of way which suggested the West and the open, in contrast to Gordon’s metropolitan sophistication and immaculate tailoring.  He was every inch the man, and a splendid actor—­I knew.  Yet there was the touch of youth about him.  He seemed incapable of a crime such as this, unless it was in anger, or as the result of some deep-running hidden passion.

Now, whether he was angry or in the clutch of a broad disgust, I could not tell.  Perhaps it was both.  Very suddenly he wheeled upon Kennedy.  His voice became low and vibrant with feeling.  Here was none of the steeled self-control of Manton, the deceptive outer mask which Werner used to cover his thoughts, the nonchalant, cold frankness of Gordon.

“Mr. Kennedy,” the actor exclaimed, “I’ve been a fool, a fool!”

“How do you mean?”

“I mean that I allowed Stella to flatter my vanity and lead me into a flirtation which meant nothing at all to her.  God!”

“You are responsible for the trouble between Miss Lamar and Gordon, then?”

“Never!” Shirley indicated the body of the star with a quick, passionate sweep of his hand.  Now I could not tell whether he was acting or in earnest.  “She’s responsible!” he exclaimed.  “She’s responsible for everything!”

“Her death—­”

“No!” Shirley sobered suddenly, as if he had forgotten the mystery altogether.  “I don’t know anything at all about that, nor have I any idea unless—­” But he checked himself rather than voice an empty suspicion.

“Just what do you mean, then?” Kennedy was sharp, impatient.

“She made a fool of me, and—­and I was engaged to Marilyn Loring—­”

“Were engaged?  The engagement—­”

“Marilyn broke it off last night and wouldn’t listen to me, even though I came to my senses and saw what a fool I had been.”

“Was”—­Kennedy framed his question carefully—­“was your infatuation for Miss Lamar of long duration?”

“Just a few weeks.  I—­I took her out to dinner and to the theater and—­and that was all.”

“I see!” Kennedy walked away, nodding to Mackay.

“Will you have Miss Loring next?” asked the district attorney.

Kennedy nodded.