The elevator stopped with scarcely a bump. As the door slid open, Don stepped out, his rifle at the ready. The others piled out after him, into a large, magnificently furnished room.
“This is the Scorpion’s study,” hissed Suzette. “The hidden chamber is beyond that tall mirror. Come, and keep your weapons ready.”
Once across the big room, the Frenchwoman motioned the others to take up positions on each side of the long cheval glass. The moment they had done so, she pressed a hidden spring.
Without a sound the mirror tilted outward from the top to show a small, lighted room beyond. A glimpse of two men in overcoats standing beside an open safe was enough for Don. His rifle swung up to cover them, just as the door mechanism stopped halfway open with a click.
At the sound both men spun around, their hands too full to reach for a weapon. Cho-San’s right arm held a bundle of black bound ledgers, his left hand a heavy satchel. His leer of fury was devilish. The other man’s face was masked by a purple cloth. Beneath the sleeves of the black overcoat, his gloved hands gripped a pair of suitcases.
For ten seconds the tableau held, in an atmosphere charged with menace. Strangely enough, it was Suzette’s half sobbing cry that broke the tension.
“Hélas, Monsieur!” wailed the little Frenchwoman. “I cannot make the door open more!”
“Never mind, Suzette,” came Don’s calm reply. “I’ve got the Scorpion covered. Cho-San, if you can lower that door from the inside, better do it and give up peaceably. You can’t dodge the rifle Pennington has aimed at you.”
“Very well, Winslow,” the big Chinese growled, letting fall his armful of ledgers. “I’ll have to use a key to release the mechanism.”
Coolly Cho-San slipped a hand into his overcoat pocket. As he withdrew it, Don caught the light of a small, shiny object. Without warning it flicked from the yellow fingers, straight toward the half-open door.