"Get 'em up," he said, and meant it. At the back of his bead he was probably enjoying this, despite his uneasiness. It was just possible that he might cut loose with a harmless shot or two to show his mastery of the situation; and the moment that people begin firing harmless shots is the moment that somebody gets hit. Up went our hands, a queer situation for a sedate English hotel-room with a picture of "Deer Drinking by Moonlight" on the wall. Then he beckoned to the night-porter.
"Search 'em."
The porter, who was not a film-goer, looked uncomfortably at Evelyn and made protesting noises. The clerk was flustered.
"Well, search him, anyhow. Hop to it."
The porter, who I could have sworn was apologizing under his breath, began gingerly to put his hands in my pockets and take out the collection of articles I had been all night transferring from one costume to the other. The first thing he found was the red-sealed envelope. The second thing he found was that £100 bank-note.
"Gawdlummycharley!" said the porter, opening it out.
"Bring it here," ordered our captor. I am not likely to forget him fingering that bank-note, looking up and down from it in quick jerks of his head, so as never to take his eyes off us. The muzzle of his revolver was dusty, and I think there was a fragment of cobweb inside the barrel; but it was not an object with which anybody was likely to play tricks. Then he looked up in a blaze of triumph.
"That settles it. This note is counterfeit too — yes, and not a very good counterfeit either. Willoughby's hand must have slipped. My lad, we've caught Willoughby's mob right enough."
I peered round at Evelyn. So the note which had been in the newspaper which Mrs. Antrim said she had found in Hogenauer's scullery, — that note, was bad. And it would appear that in some fashion Hogenauer himself bad been twisted into this business of the counterfeit money. The thing was getting to be too much for my staggering wits, and the clerk grinned like a cat from Chester.
"Get to the house-phone," he ordered the porter, "and wake up Mr. Collins. Also 'phone the police station, and tell 'em we've got two of the Willoughby gang on toast. There's a thousand pounds reward out for them. `Kenwood Blake.' `Evelyn Cheyne.' I wonder what your real names are? Don't move or I'll drill you."