“HOLD him! Hold the impostor!” cried Vulning.
Hugh dashed the brass inkwell at the head of Doctor Bergius. The doctor collapsed over the table. Castelli, who was still on the floor in a crouching position, clutched at Hugh’s leg. Hugh launched a vicious kick and caught him on the jaw. With one bound, he was behind the crimson curtains, and out on the terrace. He leaped the balustrade and plunged into the shrubbery. Madly he tore on. About fifty yards away was a high wall. He leaped at it desperately. His hands just clutched the coping, and he hung, slipping and scraping, feeling for a foothold. Then his toe caught in a tiny projection, and in another moment he had drawn himself up.
Spat! Spat! went the plaster of the wall.... They were firing at him as they ran. Golaz and Gamba came plunging through the bushes. They were appallingly near. The top of the wall was covered with bits of broken glass that caught his dressing-gown, as he leaped down on the other side. As he tried to wrench it free, a brown hand reached over and gripped it. With a twist and a turn, Hugh wriggled out of it. His pistol fell from the pocket. He snatched it up and rushed on.
A few yards further he darted behind an ancient olive tree and looked back. Gamba was already astride of the wall. Hugh fired twice and he saw the man drop back. Then he ran blindly on, taking the terraces of olive trees in reckless leaps, often landing on his knees. At length he came out on the mountain side amid boulders and prickly scrub. He dodged among the rocks, and cowered behind the bushes. He was torn and bleeding in a dozen places, and his clothes were in shreds. Presently he sank exhausted.
For over an hour he lay without moving. Everything was quiet; they had evidently given up the pursuit. He rose and by a round-about route he made his way back to the Casino.
Bob Bender was waiting for him on the steps. He looked anxious and excited. He dragged Hugh through a side door.
“Quick! tell me what’s happened. You’re in a hell of a state. We were afraid they’d got you.”
“Didn’t you know?... Vulning has escaped.”
“No!”
“Yes, he arrived at an awkward moment for me. I’ve had to jolly well risk my life for your people.”
“Vulning must have got out by the window. It was over thirty feet from the ground. We never thought of guarding that. He must have made a desperate effort.... Well, did you discover anything?”
“All.”
“The devil! Quick! Tell me. How pleased the chief will be!”
“There’s a hold-up of the Casino planned for to-morrow night.”
“A hold-up!”
“Yes. They’ve got over sixty gunmen. Vulning’s to give the signal by shooting himself with a blank cartridge. The men are to swarm up by the windows of the small room facing the band-stand. They have two fast steam launches to make their getaway in.”
“It was planned for to-morrow at six, you say?”
“To-morrow at six.”
“They’ll never try it now. We’ve got them beaten, thanks to you. It has taken you a long time to get here.”
“Over two hours.”
“More. Look, it’s nearly six now.”
“I had to make a big detour to avoid them.”
“Well, there’s no time to lose. They may try to-morrow after all; we must be prepared. Oh, won’t the chief be pleased! We must try to find him. He’s in the Casino somewhere. He has many disguises. Come....” Bob peered everywhere, but could see no sign of Krantz.
“Let’s look at the windows they mean to swarm up,” suggested Bob. The two men pulled aside the yellow blinds and looked down. The ledge was broad and the height not great.
“Easy enough,” commented Bob. “By getting into the band-stand a dozen men could command the whole terrace. The plan’s been well considered, but we’ll fix it so as it can never be carried out. We’ve got you beaten, Mister Bergius.... God! What’s that?”
Hugh looked to where Bob was pointing. On the calm sea, lying close in, were two long steam launches. They manœuvred up and down, until they were hidden by the terrace.
“Did you see them, or did I dream?”
“No, it’s them ... them!”
A sudden fear seized Bob Bender. He looked up at the clock.
“Just on the stroke of six. If only Krantz were here. I wonder....”
The two men stared at one another, and even as they stared, a sudden shot rang out.
Bob Bender gripped Hugh by the arm and cried hoarsely: “Hear that! the signal! They’ve advanced the time by twenty-four hours. If I’m not mistaken the ‘hold-up’ is now on.”
They turned swiftly. The people at the table had left their places, and grabbing their stakes, were running in the direction of the sound. Only the croupiers sat still. These looked at one another in a rather uncomfortable way.
“Come,” said Hugh, “I want to see if it’s really Vulning.”
He ran after the others. The crowd was so dense, it was impossible to get near the victim. Hugh saw the lackeys struggling to extricate a limp form from under the table. The faces of the crowd wore a mixture of curiosity and awe; they pushed and jostled shamelessly, to get a glimpse of the suicide. The inspector, the floor director and the director of games hurried to the scene. It had been a long time since a suicide had taken place at the tables. It would make a nasty scandal.
“C’est tres embetant,” Hugh heard one of them say. He saw a lackey arrive with a black sheet to cover the corpse. Then a woman pushed her way out of the crowd; she was in a hysterical state.
“I saw him do it,” she cried. “I was sitting beside him. It was a big blonde man, a Swede, I think.”
“Look!” said Hugh, suddenly gripping Bob’s arm. “It’s true. There they come.” Almost simultaneously there were a dozen revolver shots, and a bunch of croupiers tumbled from the smaller salon, their hands in the air, their faces sick with fear.
“This is no place for me,” said Bob Bender. “They’ll shoot me at sight. I’m willing to work for the Casino, but I’m not willing to lose an inch of my skin for them.”
Bob disappeared and not a moment too soon. Hell seemed to have broken loose. With a rush and a roar a score of men burst from the small salon. They whooped as they ran, brandishing revolvers and firing in the air. Their swarthy faces were lit by the savage joy of combat. They drove every one before them; if a croupier showed a sign of resisting he was felled with the butt of a heavy revolver. But few of the croupiers resisted; most of them ran like rabbits, diving under the tables.
All was pandemonium. Women shrieked and fainted; there was a general struggle to get to the doors. Hugh could not move; he was wedged in a mob of players who fought and roared and cursed, as they backed away from the bandits.
Then in the midst of the mad tumult, hushing and dominating it, a harsh metallic voice rang out. “There is no danger so long as no one resists. Go quickly, all of you, and leave the rooms empty.”
It was Doctor Bergius. He was standing on the table to the right, an automatic in either hand. Around his head was bound a white bandage. Suddenly Hugh heard a report near him. A croupier had put his hand on the metal box where the big notes were kept; he collapsed instantly, shot in the head by Castelli.
Hugh was forced with the crowd into the refreshment room. He could still see swarthy ruffians pouring from the small salon and hear shrieks, shots, howls of excitement.
The centre of the Casino had been cleared, hundreds of players had been driven into the atrium, hundreds of others penned in the refreshment room. Doctor Bergius still stood there, while Castelli and two others looted the tables. The band that had worked the private rooms came running back with their booty. They were joined almost immediately by the gang that had been pillaging the main rooms. With revolvers in hands, they formed a solid mass, their eyes flashing, their teeth gleaming ferociously. The voice of Doctor Bergius again rang out:
“Stay where you are, all of you. We have men posted to command the crowd. If one of you moves from his place before a full ten minutes has passed he will be shot. This is a solemn warning.”
The doctor leaped down, and his men followed him, firing as they went.
Hugh edged through the crowd; he wanted to see what was happening. The last of the rear guard had disappeared into the smaller salon. Through the open doorway he saw them descending by the window. No one had as yet dared to move. Yes, there was one, a woman. Hugh saw her run in from the atrium, and marvelled at her daring. Then he recognized her. It was the tall woman who always dressed in grey. As she crossed the threshold of the small salon, she fired at the two men who were balanced on the sill; they swung around and returned the fire. Hugh recognized Castelli and the doctor. Then they, too, disappeared and the woman in grey lay still on the floor.
Everything was quiet, impressively quiet. The ten minutes were up but still no one was inclined to move. Hugh was the first to break the spell. He ran across the empty hall to the nearest open window. Two launches were steaming away. All was over now. The grand coup had been successful. When he turned back, the lackeys were carrying the veiled woman into one of the private rooms. Suddenly Hugh remembered the supposed suicide. He ran into the grand salon. The body still lay under the table. He bent down and examined it. It was Vulning; the false blonde beard was crimsoned with blood, and his head was blown open. The revolver had been loaded with a real ball. The poor devil had put an end to his own life. Doctor Bergius had seen to it that he had saved them his share of the swag. What a joker the doctor was!
Hugh was sitting in his garden the following afternoon when Bob Bender came to see him. He counted out ten bills of a thousand francs each.
“There! if we failed it was through no fault of yours. You’ve earned this. Now we want you to go away for awhile, disappear somewhere. We want to hush the whole thing up, choke off all inquiries.”
“All right. By the way, what about that poor woman who was shot?”
“Oh, she’s all right! They only winged her. She dropped to avoid further injury. But then I shouldn’t say ‘she.’ Do you know who that was?”
“No.”
“Krantz.”
“The devil!”
“Yes, I was surprised myself. He’s been spying on the gang for months. He’ll be all right in a few weeks.”
“I’m glad. I liked Krantz. I say, you don’t need to be afraid of my blabbing anything. But I don’t see how you are going to hush up a thing like that. How are you going to account for it?”
Bob grinned.
“We’re giving out that it was the rehearsal of a cinema production.”
“Well, I’ll be hanged!... All right. I’ll make myself scarce. I’ll shove off somewhere this very night.”
And three hours later he was on the boat bound for Corsica.
END OF BOOK FOUR