“And how!” exclaimed Le Blanc.
THEY entered the gambling room. The injured croupier was sitting in the corner; the bartender and the doorman had just finished binding his head.
“Where’s Monk Thurman?” demanded Marmosa.
“Who?” asked the bartender.
“The fellow who was up here — the guy that crippled Schultz and Spirak.”
“Why, he’s right over there, leaning against the bar — “
The bartender paused, wondering.
“I saw him just a few minutes ago,” he insisted. “Standing there, quietlike, saying nothing. I didn’t see him go out of — “
“He’d have to go downstairs,” replied Marmosa.
“Say!” Joe le Blanc had an explanation. “I’ll bet he went out with those other fellows — the ones who were playing roulette.”