Suddenly I realized that Werner was trying to speak.  One of the camera men had helped Kennedy lift him to the top of a table, swept of its dishes and linen, so as to make it easier for him to breathe.

“Out in Tarrytown,” he muttered, weakly, “that night—­I suspected—­and—­saw—­” His voice trailed off into nothingness.  Even the motion of his lips was too feeble to follow.

In an instant I grasped the cruel injustice I had done this man in my mind.  It was now that I remembered, in a flash, Kennedy’s attitude and was glad that Kennedy had not suspected him.

“See!” I faced Mackay, speaking in quick, low tones so the others could not hear.  “I—­we—­have been totally and absolutely wrong in suspecting Werner.  Instead, it was he who has been playing our game—­trying to confirm his own suspicions.  I’ve been entirely wrong in my deductions from the discovery of his dope and needles.”

“What do you mean, Jameson?” The district attorney had been taken completely off his feet by the unexpected developments.  His eyes were rather dazed, his expression baffled.  “What do you mean?”

“Why he was out at Tarrytown that night, all right, don’t you see—­but—­but he was the second man, the man who watched!”

Mackay still seemed unable to comprehend.

“There were two men,” I went on, excitedly; covering my own chagrin in my impatience at the little district attorney.  “The one your deputy struggled with was short, rather than tall, and very strong.  That’s Werner!  Can’t you see it?  Haven’t you noticed how stockily and powerfully the director is built?”

“Werner must really have had some clue,” murmured Mackay, dazed.

It left me wondering whether the stimulation of the dope might not have heightened Werner’s imagination and urged him on in following something that our more sluggish minds had never even dreamed.

Meanwhile I saw that the doctor had arrived and that Kennedy had helped carry Werner to a dressing room where first aid could be given more conveniently.  Now Kennedy hurried back into the studio, glancing quickly this way and that, as though to catch signs of confusion or guilt upon the faces of those about us.

I colored.  Instead of making explanations to Mackay, explanations which could have waited, I might have used what faculties of observation I possessed to aid Kennedy while he was giving first consideration to the life of a man.  As it was, I didn’t know what had become of any of the various people upon our list of possible suspects.  As far as I was concerned, any or every sign and clue to the attack upon Werner might have been removed or destroyed.

A sudden hush caused all of us to turn toward the door leading to the dressing rooms.  It was the physician.  He raised a hand for attention.  His voice was low, but it carried to every corner of the studio: 

“Mr. Werner is dead,” he announced.