Coins laid everywhere on the layout board. Cranston quietly placed a stack of gold coins upon No. 13. The wheel revolved, and the tiny ball bounced back and forth until finally it found a lodging place. The wheel stopped. Beads of perspiration adorned the operator’s forehead when he saw that 13 was the winning number!
There was no smile on the croupier’s face when he noted that stack of gold coins. Lamont Cranston had played five hundred dollars on a long shot. His winnings were seventeen thousand five hundred. The money was paid.
Eager players were finding a new enthusiasm. All eyes were upon this amazing figure, whose mind seemed to possess foresight. Others were following the play that Cranston indicated. The wheel had become bewitched. The bank was losing heavily.
Considerable time had elapsed since the beginning of the evening’s game. The players now gathered here were the elite — the ones who had large sums to lose. Yet they were winning. The operator left the wheel for a short recess. He headed in the direction of Big Tom Bagshawe’s office.
Leaning against the table, the new operator made a slight motion with his thumb. Then he prepared to spin the wheel. At that moment, a whispered voice reached his ears.
“Make no move—”
There was a sinister note to the words. The hard-faced operator shuddered in spite of himself. He stared in the direction of the sound, and encountered the cold gaze of an unperturbed face close to his own.
The operator realized suddenly that he, alone, had heard that voice. He stared into the gleaming eyes, and found himself caught in a hypnotic stare.
With an effort, he dropped his gaze, and he saw something that no one else noticed — the muzzle of an automatic pressed against the edge of the table.
LAMONT CRANSTON’S left hand stretched forward. Above a stack of gold coins gleamed a translucent fire opal. The eyes that saw it dropped toward the pile of money. Fifty twenty-dollar gold pieces clinked upon the board — placed on double 0!