"Quite true, I assure you," said Gramont. "The evidence is, at least, a good deal clearer than the evidence against young Maillard."
"My heavens!" said Fell, staring. "I never dreamed that Chacherre——"
"Perhaps you didn't." Gramont shrugged his shoulders. "Neither did any one else. I imagine that Ben learned of this room and drinking party, and rightly decided that he could make a rich haul off a small crowd of drunken young sports. He had the costume stolen from my car, as you know, also the automatic which went with it. Two shots were missing from the automatic when we found it in Ben's possession; and you remember the Masquer fired twice at the time Maillard was killed."
"Ah! I always said young Maillard wasn't guilty!" exclaimed the chief.
"And your man Hammond——" began Fell. Gramont interposed.
"You thought you had Hammond sewed up tight, didn't you? To use the language of your favourite game, Fell, development is everything, and the player who gives up a pawn for the sake of development shows that he is possessed of the idée grande. You took the pawn, or thought you did—but I've taken the game!
"In one way, Fell, I'm very sorry to arrest you. It's going to hurt a mutual friend of ours. I realize that you've been trying very hard to be unselfish toward her, and I think that you've been perfectly sincere in this respect. Nonetheless, I've only one duty in the matter, and I propose to carry it through to the finish."
Fell's keen eyes sparkled angrily.
"You're a very zealous citizen, young man," he said, softly. "I see that you've been hurt. I trust your little game did not result in casualties?"
Gramont nodded. "Charlie the Goog went west. He was desperate, I fancy; at all events he got me in the arm, and I had to shoot him. Memphis Izzy hardly justified his tremendous reputation, for he yielded like a lamb."