“Sloane, my young friend,” this distinguished personage suggested, “would it be possible to induce you for ten minutes to wander away and receive the congratulations of your many friends in peace? I cannot command Mademoiselle Jeannine’s attention to the game while you are in the background.”
“But I do not wish him to go away,” Jeannine pleaded.
“I have only been engaged to the girl an hour or so,” Roger protested.
Dalmorres sighed. The situation, however, admitted of no argument. He continued to explain the game and Jeannine, with the usual beginner’s luck, increased with every stake her pile of winnings. Presently, however, an interruption occurred. One of the chasseurs from downstairs approached the table and whispered in Roger’s ear.
“Monsieur is asked for at the telephone,” he announced.
Roger, with a word of excuse, made his way downstairs. He took up the receiver.
“Roger Sloane speaking. Who is it?”
“The matron of the hospital,” a quiet voice replied. “You have a friend here—Lord Erskine.”
“Yes,” Roger assented. “I hope that he’s not worse or anything?”
“On the contrary,” the matron assured him, “the doctor reports that he is a little better. He is still in a very feverish and excited state, though. He cannot sleep and refuses to take a sleeping draught. He has an idea that he must speak with you at once whilst his memory serves him. As I daresay you know, he has been unconscious for several days and only partially conscious until this evening. Would it be possible for you to come over?”
“Rather,” Sloane assented. “Do you really mean that I shall be allowed to see him?”
“I am breaking all the rules,” the matron confessed, “but I think that the patient’s condition justifies it. He has promised that if he is allowed to speak to you for five minutes, he will take a draught and endeavour to sleep.”
“I will be there in half an hour,” Roger promised.
Lady Julia made a grimace when her nephew explained.
“Just my luck,” she sighed. “The little cat has stolen my man already and now she will have him for the rest of the evening. Never mind, Roger,” she went on, realising for the first time the anxiety in his face, “of course I will look after Jeannine.”
“You will think I’m an ass,” he said, “but will you, or Madame Dumesnil, kindly see her inside her door if I am not back by half-past eleven?”
Lady Julia nodded. She had been seated at the baccarat table but she rose now to her feet.
“I will go and play roulette with them,” she announced, “and I won’t let Jeannie out of my sight.”
Roger scarcely recognised his friend, who was sitting up in bed, awaiting his coming. Erskine had lost flesh and there was an uneasy look in his eyes, as though he were haunted by unpleasant thoughts. His expression was transformed, however, when Roger appeared.
“Good man,” he murmured. “Sit down. Bring the chair up to the bedside.”
The matron held up her finger.
“Remember,” she warned them, “in ten minutes I return and in ten minutes Mr. Roger Sloane will have to go.”
She took her leave with a little nod. Roger did as he had been bidden and brought a chair to the bedside.
“Jolly glad to see you looking better, Pips, old man,” he said. “Tried to steal a march on those fellows, didn’t you? Listen,” he went on. “Don’t say an unnecessary word. Just tell me what’s vital. You will be strong enough to tell us the whole story in a day or two.”
Erskine’s fingers played nervously with the bedclothes.
“I hope so,” he answered. “You know, Roger, I played the fool. I drove up to the mountains just as they told me to, but I took an automatic instead of the money, and I was idiot enough to think that I would bring down the messenger, whoever he was, and after that it would be easy to collar the gang.”
“Jolly plucky,” Roger murmured. “But why alone, old chap?”
“Because, of course, they would have been watching and they would have cleared out if I had brought a carload. It seemed to me the only chance was to go alone. I reached the spot and saw some one waiting for me. He was just an ordinary gigolo-looking young fellow, sitting on the wall and smoking a cigarette. He got up as I approached and I stopped the car. Between my knees there was an automatic. I got hold of it with my right hand.
“‘You have something for me perhaps?’ he enquired.
“‘Yes, I have,’ I answered. ‘Come here and I will give it to you.’
“He came slowly around the bonnet of the car and stood with his foot on the running board, not two yards away from me, but just out of reach. He was a horrible-looking fellow, Roger.
“‘Give me the packet,’ he demanded.
“I sat looking at him and I knew at once that I should have to think quickly. He was not attempting any form of disguise. There he was, a young fellow whom I should be able to identify at any time later on. He must have known that. So must the people who sent him. I realised like a flash that I was never intended to have the chance. As soon as they had the notes, they were going to make sure of me. I whipped out my automatic.
“‘Put up your hands,’ I ordered.
“He put them up all right, but his eyes were horrible.
“‘So that’s the game,’ he muttered.
“‘Get into the car by my side,’ I went on.
“‘What for?’
“‘You will soon find out,’ I assured him.
“He stood with his foot still on the step and I saw something that was almost a smile on his vicious-looking face. At the same second I felt a man’s breath hot upon my cheek. I can’t tell you how quickly it all happened, Roger. It was like a flash. I knew I was for it and I had a murderous desire—it was murderous—to kill the man in front of me. And I did it!”
Roger held his breath. He spoke not a monosyllable. He was listening with agonised interest. Every second he feared to hear the handle of the door turn.
“You understand,” Erskine faltered, “I realised that I was trapped. I felt the swish of a towel over my mouth from behind, I felt my arm knocked up and I pulled the trigger of my gun all at the same moment. I felt the pain on my arm, I was conscious of the first whiff of chloroform, and it seemed to me that I pulled the trigger at the same time, but as a matter of fact, of course, I must have pulled it a fraction of a second before. The last thing I remember, and for all I knew it was going to be my last conscious thought on earth, was the sight of the man in front of me crumpling up. I killed him, Roger.”
Roger felt his forehead. The room was well aired but the perspiration was standing out in great beads.
“I can’t tell you how long it was afterwards,” Erskine went on, in a choked whisper, “that I opened my eyes because of the pain. I was twenty or thirty yards down that gorge where the croupier was found, and a wheel which had been torn off the car was lying on my leg, and all the clothes on my left side were ripped to pieces. Right at the bottom of the gorge—”
“They found the remnants of your car,” Roger went on, hoping to save his friend speech as much as possible. “It was smashed to pieces, of course, with the wheel missing.”
Erskine