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it’s never been run any other way.”
    â€œI’ve heard tell different.”
    â€œYou’ve been misinformed. However, I’ve known and liked this town and its people for a long time. You can’t stop me from keeping my eyes open in their interest and reaching my own conclusions. And broadcasting them, if necessary.”
    Anselm Newby stared at him. Ellery stared back.
    â€œI’ve already talked to Dr. Farnham and Mr. Dullman,” Newby said suddenly, and Ellery knew he had won a small victory. “You tell me your version.”
    Ellery gave him an unembroidered account. The police chief listened without comment, interrupting only to acknowledge the arrival of the coroner and issue orders to uniformed men coming in to report. Throughout Ellery’s recital Newby kept an eye on a young police technician who had been going over the room for fingerprints and was now taking photographs. Times had certainly changed in Wrightsville.
    â€œThose words Benedict said, you heard them yourself?” the chief asked when Ellery stopped. “This wasn’t something Farnham heard and repeated to you?”
    â€œWe both heard them. I’m positive Dullman did, too, although he pretended he hadn’t.”
    â€œWhy would he do that?”
    Ellery could not resist saying, “You want my opinion , Chief?”
    The dull blue eyes sparked. But he merely said, “Please.”
    â€œDullman is walking on eggs. This thing is the worst possible break for him. He wants no part of it.”
    â€œWhy not?”
    â€œBecause to admit he heard Benedict’s accusation would mean becoming an important witness in a sensational murder case. Dullman can’t stand the publicity.”
    â€œI thought show people live on publicity.”
    â€œNot Dullman. For an Actors’ Equity member like Benedict or Manson to work in an amateur company, it has to be a legitimately amateur operation from start to finish. Arch Dullman is an operator. He makes an undercover deal with someone like Scutney Bluefield—desperate to run a successful amateur playhouse—in a setup that otherwise satisfies Equity’s strict specifications. Dullman delivers a name-actor—one who’s passé in the big time and who’ll do anything for eating money—in return for taking over behind the scenes, with Bluefield fronting for him.”
    â€œWhat’s Dullman get out of it?”
    â€œHe pockets most—or all—of the box-office take,” Ellery said. “If this deal with Bluefield became a matter of public record, Dullman might never represent a professional actor again.”
    â€œI see.” Newby was watching his technician. “Well, that’s very interesting, Mr. Queen. Now if you’ll excuse me—”
    Take that, Ellery thought. Aloud, he said, “Mind if I hang around?”
    Newby said politely, “Suit yourself,” and turned away.
    The knife had been removed from Benedict’s back and it was lying on the dressing table. It was a long, hefty hunting knife, its bloodstained blade honed to a wicked edge.
    The coroner grunted, “I’m through for now,” and opened the door. Two ambulance men came in at his nod and took the body out. “I’ll do the post first thing in the morning.”
    â€œCould a woman have sunk the knife to the hilt?” Newby asked.
    â€œFar’s I can tell without an autopsy, it went into the heart without striking bone. If that’s so, a kid could have done it.” The coroner left.
    Newby walked over to the table. The technician was packing his gear. “Find any prints on the knife?”
    â€œNo, sir. It was either handled with a handkerchief or gloves or wiped off afterward. This plastic tape is pretty slick, Chief, anyway.”
    â€œWhat about prints elsewhere?”
    â€œSome of Benedict’s on the dressing table and on the make-up stuff, and a lot of someone