He stopped.
"Go on, go on!" urged Kroner. "What about the roulette wheel? And what possible connection could it have with what happened to the people in that room?"
He stared at the young assistant manager, as did Gest and Chichester, with his hands clenched with suspense.
And the assistant manager slowly, like a falling tree, pitched forward on his face.
"My God——"
"What happened to him?"
The three got to him together. They rolled him over, lifted his head, began chafing his hands. But it was useless. And in a moment that was admitted in their faces as they looked at each other.
"Another victory for Doctor Satan," whispered Chichester, shuddering as though with palsy. "He's—dead!"
Gest opened his mouth as though to deny it, but closed his lips again. For palpably the assistant manager was dead, struck down an instant before he could tell them some vital news he had uncovered. He had died as though struck by lightning, at just the right time to save disclosure. It was as though the being who called himself Doctor Satan were there, in that office, and had acted to protect himself!
Shivering, Chichester glanced fearfully around. And Gest said: "God—if Ascott Keane were here——"