XII. The Steel Door
It was what, in college, we used to call "good football weather"--acrisp, autumn afternoon that sent the blood tingling through brain andmuscle. Kennedy and I were enjoying a stroll on the drive, dividingour attention between the glowing red sunset across the Hudson and thestring of homeward-bound automobiles on the broad parkway. Suddenly ahuge black touring car marked with big letters, "P.D.N.Y.," shot past.
"Joy-riding again in one of the city's cars," I remarked. "I thought thelast Police Department shake-up had put a stop to that."
"Perhaps it has," returned Kennedy. "Did you see who was in the car?"
"No, but I see it has turned and is coming back."
"It was Inspector--I mean, First Deputy O'Connor. I thought herecognised us as he whizzed along, and I guess he did, too. Ah,congratulations, O'Connor! I haven't had a chance to tell you before howpleased I was to learn you had been appointed first deputy. It ought tohave been commissioner, though," added Kennedy.
"Congratulations nothing," rejoined O'Connor. "Just anothernew-deal-election coming on, mayor must make a show of getting somereform done, and all that sort of thing. So he began with the PoliceDepartment, and here I am, first deputy. But, say, Kennedy," he added,dropping his voice, "I've a little job on my mind that I'd like to pulloff in about as spectacular a fashion as I--as you know how. I want tomake good, conspicuously good, at the start--understand? Maybe I'll be'broke' for it and sent to pounding the pavements of Dismissalville,but I don't care, I'll take a chance. On the level, Kennedy, it's a bigthing, and it ought to be done. Will you help me put it across?"
"What is it?" asked Kennedy with a twinkle in his eye at O'Connor'sestimate of the security of his tenure of office.
O'Connor drew us away from the automobile toward the stone parapetoverlooking the railroad and river far below, and out of earshot ofthe department chauffeur. "I want to pull off a successful raid on theVesper Club," he whispered earnestly, scanning our faces.
"Good heavens, man," I ejaculated, "don't you know that Senator Danfieldis interested in--"
"Jameson," interrupted O'Connor reproachfully, "I said 'on the level' afew moments ago, and I meant it. Senator Danfield he--well, anyhow, if Idon't do it the district attorney will, with the aid of the Dowling law,and I am going to beat him to it, that's all. There's too much moneybeing lost at the Vesper Club, anyhow. It won't hurt Danfield to betaught a lesson not to run such a phony game. I may like to put up aquiet bet myself on the ponies now and then--I won't say I don't, butthis thing of Danfield's has got beyond all reason. It's the crookedestgambling joint in the city, at least judging by the stories they tell oflosses there. And so beastly aristocratic, too. Read that."
O'Connor shoved a letter into Kennedy's hand, a dainty perfumed andmonogrammed little missive addressed in a feminine hand. It was such aletter as comes by the thousand to the police in the course of a year;though seldom from ladies of the smart set.
"Dear Sir: I notice in the newspapers this morning that you have justbeen appointed first deputy commissioner of police and that you havebeen ordered to suppress gambling in New York. For the love that youmust still bear toward your own mother, listen to the story of a motherworn with anxiety for her only son, and if there is any justice orrighteousness in this great city close up a gambling hell that issending to ruin scores of our finest young men. No doubt you knowor have heard of my family--the DeLongs are not unknown in New York.Perhaps you have also heard of the losses of my son Percival at theVesper Club. They are fast becoming the common talk of our set. I am notrich, Mr. Commissioner, in spite of our social position, but I am human,as human as a mother in any station of life, and oh, if there is anyway, close up that gilded society resort that is dissipating oursmall fortune, ruining an only son, and slowly bringing to the gravea gray-haired widow, as worthy of protection as any mother of the poorwhose plea has closed up a little poolroom or low policy shop."
Sincerely,
(Mrs.) Julia M. DeLong.
P.S.--Please keep this confidential--at least from my son Percival.
J. M. DeL.
"Well," said Kennedy, as he handed back the letter, "O'Connor, if you doit, I'll take back all the hard things I've ever said about the policesystem. Young DeLong was in one of my classes at the university, untilhe was expelled for that last mad prank of his. There's more to that boythan most people think, but he's the wildest scion of wealth I have evercome in contact with. How are you going to pull off your raid--is it tobe down through the skylight or up from the cellar?"
"Kennedy," replied O'Connor in the same reproachful tone with which hehad addressed me, "talk sense. I'm in earnest. You know the Vesper Clubis barred and barricaded like the National City Bank. It isn't one ofthose common gambling joints which depend for protection on what wecall 'ice-box doors.' It's proof against all the old methods. Axes andsledge-hammers would make no impression there."
"Your predecessor had some success at opening doors with a hydraulicjack, I believe, in some very difficult raids," put in Kennedy.
"A hydraulic jack wouldn't do for the Vesper Club, I'm afraid,"remarked O'Connor wearily. "Why, sir, that place has been provedbomb-proof--bomb-proof, sir. You remember recently the so-called'gamblers' war' in which some rivals exploded a bomb on the steps? Itdid more damage to the house next door than to the club. However, I canget past the outer door, I think, even if it is strong. But inside--youmust have heard of it--is the famous steel door, three inches thick,made of armourplate. It's no use to try it at all unless we can passthat door with reasonable quickness. All the evidence we shall get willbe of an innocent social club-room downstairs. The gambling is all onthe second floor, beyond this door, in a room without a window in it.Surely you've heard of that famous gambling-room, with its perfectsystem of artificial ventilation and electric lighting that makes itrival noonday at midnight. And don't tell me I've got to get on theother side of the door by strategy, either. It is strategy-proof. Thesystem of lookouts is perfect. No, force is necessary, but it must notbe destructive of life or property--or, by heaven, I'd drive up thereand riddle the place with a fourteen-inch gun," exclaimed O'Connor.
"H'm!" mused Kennedy as he flicked the ashes off his cigar andmeditatively watched a passing freight-train on the railroad below us."There goes a car loaded with tons and tons of scrap iron. You want meto scrap that three-inch steel door, do you?"
"Kennedy, I'll buy that particular scrap from you at almost its weightin gold. The fact is, I have a secret fund at my disposal such as formercommissioners have asked for in vain. I can afford to pay you well,as well as any private client, and I hear you have had some good feeslately. Only deliver the goods."
"No," answered Kennedy, rather piqued, "it isn't money that I am after.I merely wanted to be sure that you are in earnest. I can get you pastthat door as if it were made of green baize."
It was O'Connor's turn to look incredulous, but as Kennedy apparentlymeant exactly what he said, he simply asked, "And will you?"
"I will do it to-night if you say so," replied Kennedy quietly. "Are youready?"
For answer O'Connor simply grasped Craig's hand, as if to seal thecompact.
"All right, then," continued Kennedy. "Send a furniture-van, one ofthose closed vans that the storage warehouses use, up to my laboratoryany time before seven o'clock. How many men will you need in the raid?Twelve? Will a van hold that many comfortably? I'll want to put someapparatus in it, but that won't take much room."
"Why, yes, I think so," answered O'Connor. "I'll get a well-padded vanso that they won't be badly jolted by the ride down-town. By George!Kennedy, I see you know more of that side of police strategy than I gaveyou credit for."
"Then have the men drop into my laboratory singly about the same time.You can arrange that so that it will not look suspicious, so far uptown.It will be dark, anyhow. Perhaps, O'Connor, you can make up as thedriver yourself--anyhow, get one you can trust absolutely. Then havethe van down near the corner of Broadway below the c
lub, driving slowlyalong about the time the theatre crowd is out. Leave the rest to me. Iwill give you or the driver orders when the time comes."
As O'Connor thanked Craig, he remarked without a shade of insincerity,"Kennedy, talk about being commissioner, you ought to be commissioner."
"Wait till I deliver the goods," answered Craig simply. "I may fall downand bring you nothing but a lawsuit for damages for unlawful entry orunjust persecution, or whatever they call it."
"I'll take a chance at that," called back O'Connor as he jumped into hiscar and directed, "Headquarters, quick."
As the car disappeared, Kennedy filled his lungs with air as ifreluctant to leave the drive. "Our constitutional," he remarked, "isabruptly at an end, Walter."
Then he laughed, as he looked about him.
"What a place in which to plot a raid on Danfield's Vesper Club! Why,the nurse-maids have hardly got the children all in for supper and bed.It's incongruous. Well, I must go over to the laboratory and get somethings ready to put in that van with the men. Meet me about half-pastseven, Walter, up in the room, all togged up. We'll dine at the CafeRiviera to-night in style. And, by the way, you're quite a man abouttown--you must know someone who can introduce us into the Vesper Club."
"But, Craig," I demurred, "if there is any rough work as a result, itmight queer me with them. They might object to being used--"
"Oh, that will be all right. I just want to look the place over andlose a few chips in a good cause. No, it won't queer any of your Starconnections. We'll be on the outside when the time comes for anything tohappen. In fact I shouldn't wonder if your story would make you all themore solid with the sports. I take all the responsibility; you can havethe glory. You know they like to hear the inside gossip of such things,after the event. Try it. Remember, at seven-thirty. We'll be a littlelate at dinner, but never mind; it will be early enough for the club."
Left to my own devices I determined to do a little detective work on myown account, and not only did I succeed in finding an acquaintance whoagreed to introduce us at the Vesper Club that night about nine o'clock,but I also learned that Percival DeLong was certain to be there thatnight, too. I was necessarily vague about Kennedy, for fear my friendmight have heard of some of his exploits, but fortunately he did notprove inquisitive.
I hurried back to our apartment and was in the process of transformingmyself into a full-fledged boulevardier, when Kennedy arrived inan extremely cheerful frame of mind. So far, his preparations hadprogressed very favourably, I guessed, and I was quite elated when hecomplimented me on what I had accomplished in the meantime.
"Pretty tough for the fellows who are condemned to ride around in thatvan for four mortal hours, though," he said as he hurried into hisevening clothes, "but they won't be riding all the time. The driver willmake frequent stops."
I was so busy that I paid little attention to him until he had nearlycompleted his toilet. I gave a gasp.
"Why, whatever are you doing?" I exclaimed as I glanced into his room.
There stood Kennedy arrayed in all the glory of a sharp-pointedmoustache and a goatee. He had put on evening clothes of decidedlyParisian cut, clothes which he had used abroad and had brought back withhim, but which I had never known him to wear since he came back. Ona chair reposed a chimney-pot hat that would have been pronouncedfaultless on the "continong," but was unknown, except among impresarios,on Broadway.
Kennedy shrugged his shoulders--he even had the shrug.
"Figure to yourself, monsieur," he said. "Ze great Kennedy, ze detectifAmericain--to put it tersely in our own vernacular, wouldn't it be afool thing for me to appear at the Vesper Club where I should surely berecognised by someone if I went in my ordinary clothes and features? Unfaux pas, at the start? Jamais!"
There was nothing to do but agree, and I was glad that I had beendiscreetly reticent about my companion in talking with the friend whowas to gain us entrance to the Avernus beyond the steel door.
We met my friend at the Riviera and dined sumptuously. Fortunately heseemed decidedly impressed with my friend Monsieur Kay--I could do nobetter on the spur of the moment than take Kennedy's initial, whichseemed to serve. We progressed amicably from oysters and soup down tocoffee, cigars, and liqueurs, and I succeeded in swallowing Kennedy'stales of Monte Carlo and Ostend and Ascot without even a smile. Hemust have heard them somewhere, and treasured them up for just such anoccasion, but he told them in a manner that was verisimilitude itself,using perfect English with just the trace of an accent at the rightplaces.
At last it was time to saunter around to the Vesper Club without seemingto be too indecently early. The theatres were not yet out, but my friendsaid play was just beginning at the club and would soon be in fullswing.
I had a keen sense of wickedness as we mounted the steps in the yellowflare of the flaming arc-light on the Broadway corner not far below us.A heavy, grated door swung open at the practised signal of my friend,and an obsequious negro servant stood bowing and pronouncing his namein the sombre mahogany portal beyond, with its green marble pillars andhandsome decorations. A short parley followed, after which we entered,my friend having apparently satisfied someone that we were all right.
We did not stop to examine the first floor, which doubtless was innocentenough, but turned quickly up a flight of steps. At the foot of thebroad staircase Kennedy paused to examine some rich carvings, and I felthim nudge me. I turned. It was an enclosed staircase, with walls thatlooked to be of re-enforced concrete. Swung back on hinges concealedlike those of a modern burglar-proof safe was the famous steel door.
We did not wish to appear to be too interested, yet a certain amount ofcuriosity was only proper.
My friend paused on the steps, turned, and came back.
"You're perfectly safe," he smiled, tapping the door with his cane witha sort of affectionate respect. "It would take the police ages to getpast that barrier, which would be swung shut and bolted the moment thelookout gave the alarm. But there has never been any trouble. The policeknow that it is so far, no farther. Besides," he added with a wink tome, "you know, Senator Danfield wouldn't like this pretty little dooreven scratched. Come up, I think I hear DeLong's voice up-stairs. You'veheard of him, monsieur? It's said his luck has changed I'm anxious tofind out."
Quickly he led the way up the handsome staircase and into a large,lofty, richly furnished room. Everywhere there were thick, heavy carpetson the floors, into which your feet sank with an air of satisfyingluxury.
The room into which we entered was indeed absolutely windowless. It wasa room built within the original room of the old house. Thus the windowsoverlooking the street from the second floor in reality bore no relationto it. For light it depended on a complete oval of lights overheadso arranged as to be themselves invisible, but shining through richlystained glass and conveying the illusion of a slightly clouded noonday.The absence of windows was made up for, as I learned later, by aventilating device so perfect that, although everyone was smoking, amost fastidious person could scarcely have been offended by the odour oftobacco.
Of course I did not notice all this at first. What I did notice,however, was a faro-layout and a hazard-board, but as no one was playingat either, my eye quickly travelled to a roulette-table which stretchedalong the middle of the room. Some ten or a dozen men in evening clotheswere gathered watching with intent faces the spinning wheel. Therewas no money on the table, nothing but piles of chips of variousdenominations. Another thing that surprised me as I looked was that thetense look on the faces of the players was anything but the feverish,haggard gaze I had expected. In fact, they were sleek, well-fed, typicalprosperous New-Yorkers rather inclined to the noticeable in dress andcarrying their avoirdupois as if life was an easy game with them. Mostof them evidently belonged to the financial and society classes. Therewere no tragedies; the tragedies were elsewhere--in their offices,homes, in the courts, anywhere, but not here at the club. Here all waslife, light, and laughter.
For the benefit of those not acquai
nted with the roulette-wheel--and Imay as well confess that most of my own knowledge was gained in that onecrowded evening--I may say that it consists, briefly, of a wooden discvery nicely balanced and turning in the centre of a cavity set intoa table like a circular wash-basin, with an outer rim turned slightlyinward. The "croupier" revolves the wheel to the right. With a quickmotion of his middle finger he flicks a marble, usually of ivory, to theleft. At the Vesper Club, always up-to-date, the ball was of platinum,not of ivory. The disc with its sloping sides is provided with a numberof brass rods, some perpendicular, some horizontal. As the ball and thewheel lose momentum the ball strikes against the rods and finally isdeflected into one of the many little pockets or stalls facing the rimof the wheel.
There are thirty-eight of these pockets; two are marked "0" and "00,"the others numbered from one to thirty-six in an irregular and confusingorder and painted alternately red and black. At each end of the tableare thirty-six large squares correspondingly numbered and coloured. The"0" and "00" are of a neutral colour. Whenever the ball falls in the "0"or "00" the bank takes the stakes, or sweeps the the board. The MonteCarlo wheel has only one "0," while the typical American has two, andthe Chinese has four.
To one like myself who had read of the Continental gambling-houses withthe clink of gold pieces on the table, and the croupier with his woodenrake noisily raking in the winnings of the bank, the comparative silenceof the American game comes as a surprise.
As we advanced, we heard only the rattle of the ball, the click of thechips, and the monotonous tone of the spinner: "Twenty-three, black.Eight, red. Seventeen, black." It was almost like the boys in a broker'soffice calling off the quotations of the ticker and marking them up onthe board.
Leaning forward, almost oblivious to the rest, was Percival DeLong, atall, lithe, handsome young man, whose boyish face ill comported withthe marks of dissipation clearly outlined on it. Such a boy, it flashedacross my mind, ought to be studying the possible plays of football ofan evening in the field-house after his dinner at the training-table,rather than the possible gyrations of the little platinum ball on thewheel.
"Curse the luck!" he exclaimed, as "17" appeared again.
A Hebrew banker staked a pile of chips on the "17" to come up a thirdtime. A murmur of applause at his nerve ran through the circle. DeLonghesitated, as one who thought, "Seventeen has come out twice--the oddsagainst its coming again are too great, even though the winnings wouldbe fabulous, for a good stake." He placed his next bet on anothernumber.
"He's playing Lord Rosslyn's system, to-night," whispered my friend.
The wheel spun, the ball rolled, and the croupier called again,"Seventeen, black." A tremor of excitement ran through the crowd. It wasalmost unprecedented.
DeLong, with a stifled oath, leaned back and scanned the faces about thetable.
"And '17' has precisely the same chance of turning up in the next spinas if it had not already had a run of three," said a voice at my elbow.
It was Kennedy. The roulette-table needs no introduction when curioussequences are afoot. All are friends.
"That's the theory of Sir Hiram Maxim;" commented my friend, as heexcused himself reluctantly for another appointment. "But no truegambler will believe it, monsieur, or at least act on it."
All eyes were turned on Kennedy, who made a gesture of politedeprecation, as if the remark of my friend were true, but henonchalantly placed his chips on the "17."
"The odds against '17' appearing four consecutive times are somemillions," he went on, "and yet, having appeared three times, it is justas likely to appear again as before. It is the usual practice to avoid anumber that has had a run, on the theory that some other number is morelikely to come up than it is. That would be the case if it were drawingballs from a bag full of red and black balls--the more red ones drawnthe smaller the chance of drawing another red one. But if the balls areput back in the bag after being drawn the chances of drawing a red oneafter three have been drawn are exactly the same as ever. If we tossa cent and heads appear twelve times, that does not have the slightesteffect on the thirteenth toss--there is still an even chance that it,too, will be heads. So if '17' had come up five times to-night, it wouldbe just as likely to come the sixth as if the previous five had notoccurred, and that despite the fact that before it has appeared at allodds against a run of the same number six times in succession are abouttwo billion, four hundred and ninety-six million, and some thousands.Most systems are based on the old persistent belief that occurrences ofchance are affected in some way by occurrences immediately preceding,but disconnected physically. If we've had a run of black for twentytimes, system says play the red for the twenty-first. But black is justas likely to turn up the twenty-first as if it were the first play ofall. The confusion arises because a run of twenty on the black shouldhappen once in one million, forty-eight thousand, five hundred andseventy-six coups. It would take ten years to make that many coups, andthe run of twenty might occur once or any number of times in it. It isonly when one deals with infinitely large numbers of coups that one cancount on infinitely small variations in the mathematical results. Thisgame does not go on for infinity--therefore anything, everything, mayhappen. Systems are based on the infinite; we play in the finite."
"You talk like a professor I had at the university," ejaculated DeLongcontemptuously as Craig finished his disquisition on the practicalfallibility of theoretically infallible systems. Again DeLong carefullyavoided the "17," as well as the black.
The wheel spun again; the ball rolled. The knot of spectators around thetable watched with bated breath.
Seventeen won!
As Kennedy piled up his winnings superciliously, without even theappearance of triumph, a man behind me whispered, "A foreign noblemanwith a system--watch him."
"Non, monsieur," said Kennedy quickly, having overheard the remark, "nosystem, sir. There is only one system of which I know."
"What?" asked DeLong eagerly.
Kennedy staked a large sum on the red to win. The black came up, andhe lost. He doubled the stake and played again, and again lost. Withamazing calmness Craig kept right on doubling.
"The martingale," I heard the man whisper behind me. "In other words,double or quit."
Kennedy was now in for some hundreds, a sum that was sufficiently largefor him, but he doubled again, still cheerfully playing the red, and thered won. As he gathered up his chips he rose.
"That's the only system," he said simply.
"But, go on, go on," came the chorus from about the table.
"No," said Kennedy quietly, "that is part of the system, too--to quitwhen you have won back your stakes and a little more."
"Huh!" exclaimed DeLong in disgust. "Suppose you were in for somethousands--you wouldn't quit. If you had real sporting blood youwouldn't quit, anyhow!"
Kennedy calmly passed over the open insult, letting it be understoodthat he ignored this beardless youth.
"There is no way you can beat the game in the long run if you keep atit," he answered simply. "It is mathematically impossible. Consider. Weare Croesuses--we hire players to stake money for us on every possiblenumber at every coup. How do we come out? If there are no '0' or '00,'we come out after each coup precisely where we started--we are payingour own money back and forth among ourselves; we have neither morenor less. But with the '0' and '00' the bank sweeps the board every sooften. It is only a question of time when, after paying our money backand forth among ourselves, it has all filtered through the '0' and '00'into the bank. It is not a game of chance for the bank--ah, it is exact,mathematical--c'est une question d' arithmetique, seulement, nest-cepas, messieurs?"
"Perhaps," admitted DeLong, "but it doesn't explain why I am losingto-night while everyone else is winning."
"We are not winning," persisted Craig. "After I have had a bite to eat Iwill demonstrate how to lose--by keeping on playing." He led the way tothe cafe.
DeLong was too intent on the game to leave, even for refreshments. Nowand then I saw hi
m beckon to an attendant, who brought him a stiff drinkof whiskey. For a moment his play seemed a little better, then hewould drop back into his hopeless losing. For some reason or other his"system" failed absolutely.
"You see, he is hopeless," mused Kennedy over our light repast. "Andyet of all gambling games roulette offers the player the best odds, farbetter than horse-racing, for instance. Our method has usually been tooutlaw roulette and permit horse racing; in other words, suppress themore favourable and permit the less favourable. However, we're doingbetter now; we're suppressing both. Of course what I say applies only toroulette when it is honestly played--DeLong would lose anyhow, I fear."
I started at Kennedy's tone and whispered hastily: "What do you mean? Doyou think the wheel is crooked?"
"I haven't a doubt of it," he replied in an undertone. "That run of '17'might happen--yes. But it is improbable. They let me win because I wasa new player--new players always win at first. It is proverbial, butthe man who is running this game has made it look like a platitude. Tosatisfy myself on that point I am going to play again--until I have lostmy winnings and am just square with the game. When I reach the pointthat I am convinced that some crooked work is going on I am going to trya little experiment, Walter. I want you to stand close to me so that noone can see what I am doing. Do just as I will indicate to you."
The gambling-room was now fast filling up with the first of the theatrecrowd. DeLong's table was the centre of attraction, owing to the highplay. A group of young men of his set were commiserating with him on hisluck and discussing it with the finished air of roues of double theirages. He was doggedly following his system.
Kennedy and I approached.
"Ah, here is the philosophical stranger again;" DeLong exclaimed,catching sight of Kennedy. "Perhaps he can enlighten us on how to win atroulette by playing his own system."
"Au contrarie, monsieur, let me demonstrate how to lose," answered Craigwith a smile that showed a row of faultless teeth beneath his blackmoustache, decidedly foreign.
Kennedy played and lost, and lost again; then he won, but in the main helost. After one particularly large loss I felt his arm on mine, drawingme closely to him. DeLong had taken a sort of grim pleasure in the factthat Kennedy, too, was losing. I found that Craig had paused in his playat a moment when DeLong had staked a large sum that a number below "18"would turn up--for five plays the numbers had been between "18" and"36." Curious to see what Craig was doing, I looked cautiously downbetween us. All eyes were fixed on the wheel. Kennedy was holding anordinary compass in the crooked-up palm of his hand. The needle pointedat me, as I happened to be standing north of it.
The wheel spun. Suddenly the needle swung around to a point betweenthe north and south poles, quivered a moment, and came to rest in thatposition. Then it swung back to the north.
It was some seconds before I realised the significance of it. It hadpointed at the table--and DeLong had lost again. There was some electricattachment at work.
Kennedy and I exchanged glances, and he shoved the compass into my handquickly. "You watch it, Walter, while I play," he whispered.
Carefully concealing it, as he had done, yet holding it as close to thetable as I dared I tried to follow two things at once without betrayingmyself. As near as I could make out, something happened at every play. Iwould not go so far as to assert that whenever the larger stakes were ona certain number the needle pointed to the opposite side of the wheel,for it was impossible to be at all accurate about it. Once I noticed theneedle did not move at all, and he won. But at the next play he stakedwhat I knew must be the remainder of his winnings on what seemed avery good chance. Even before the wheel was revolved and the ball setrolling, the needle swung about, and when the platinum ball came to restKennedy rose from the table, a loser.
"By George though," exclaimed DeLong, grasping his hand. "I take it allback. You are a good loser, sir. I wish I could take it as well as youdo. But then, I'm in too deeply. There are too many 'markers' with thehouse up against me."
Senator Danfield had just come in to see how things were going. He wasa sleek, fat man, and it was amazing to see with what deference hisvictims treated him. He affected not to have heard what DeLong said, butI could imagine what he was thinking, for I had heard that he had scantsympathy with anyone after he "went broke"--another evidence of thecamaraderie and good-fellowship that surrounded the game.
Kennedy's next remark surprised me. "Oh, your luck will change, D.L.,"--everyone referred to him as "D. L.," for gambling-houses have anaversion for real names and greatly prefer initials--"your luck willchange presently. Keep right on with your system. It's the best you cando to-night, short of quitting."
"I'll never quit," replied the young man under his breath.
Meanwhile Kennedy and I paused on the way out to compare notes. Myreport of the behaviour of the compass only confirmed him in hisopinion.
As we turned to the stairs we took in a full view of the room. Afaro-layout was purchasing Senator Danfield a new touring-car everyhour at the expense of the players. Another group was gathered about thehazard board, deriving evident excitement, though I am sure none couldhave given an intelligent account of the chances they were taking. Tworoulette-tables were now going full blast, the larger crowd still aboutDeLong's. Snatches of conversation came to us now and then, and I caughtone sentence, "De Long's in for over a hundred thousand now on theweek's play, I understand; poor boy--that about cleans him up."
"The tragedy of it, Craig," I whispered, but he did not hear.
With his hat tilted at a rakish angle and his opera-coat over his arm hesauntered over for a last look.
"Any luck yet?" he asked carelessly.
"The devil--no," returned the boy.
"Do you know what my advice to you is, the advice of a man who has seenhigh play everywhere from Monte Carlo to Shanghai?"
"What?"
"Play until your luck changes if it takes until to-morrow."
A supercilious smile crossed Senator Danfield's fat face.
"I intend to," and the haggard young face turned again to the table andforgot us.
"For Heaven's sake, Kennedy," I gasped as we went down the stairway,"what do you mean by giving him such advice--you?"
"Not so loud, Walter. He'd have done it anyhow, I suppose, but I wanthim to keep at it. This night means life or death to Percival DeLong andhis mother, too. Come on, let's get out of this."
We passed the formidable steel door and gained the street, jostled bythe late-comers who had left the after-theatre restaurants for a fewmoments of play at the famous club that so long had defied the police.
Almost gaily Kennedy swung along toward Broadway. At the corner hehesitated, glanced up and down, caught sight of the furniture-van in themiddle of the next block. The driver was tugging at the harness of thehorses, apparently fixing it. We walked along and stopped beside it.
"Drive around in front of the Vesper Club slowly," said Kennedy as thedriver at last looked up.
The van lumbered ahead, and we followed it casually. Around the cornerit turned. We turned also. My heart was going like a sledgehammer as thecritical moment approached. My head was in a whirl. What would that gaythrong back of those darkened windows down the street think if they knewwhat was being prepared for them?
On, like the Trojan horse, the van lumbered. A man went into the VesperClub, and I saw the negro at the door eye the oncoming van suspiciously.The door banged shut.
The next thing I knew, Kennedy had ripped off his disguise, had flunghimself up behind the van, and had swung the doors open. A dozen menwith ages and sledge-hammers swarmed out and up the steps of the club.
"Call the reserves, O'Connor," cried Kennedy. "Watch the roof and theback yard."
The driver of the van hastened to send in the call.
The sharp raps of the hammers and the axes sounded on the thickbrass-bound oak of the outside door in quick succession. There was ascurry of feet inside, and we could hear a grating noise and a terrificja
r as the inner, steel door shut.
"A raid! A raid on the Vesper Club!" shouted a belated passer-by.The crowd swarmed around from Broadway, as if it were noon instead ofmidnight.
Banging and ripping and tearing, the outer door was slowly forced. Asit crashed in, the quick gongs of several police patrols sounded. Thereserves had been called out at the proper moment, too late for themto "tip off" the club that there was going to be a raid, as frequentlyoccurs.
Disregarding the melee behind me, I leaped through the wreckage with theother raiders. The steel door barred all further progress with itscold blue impassibility. How were we to surmount this last and mostformidable barrier?
I turned in time to see Kennedy and O'Connor hurrying up the stepswith a huge tank studded with bolts like a boiler, while two other mencarried a second tank.
"There," ordered Craig, "set the oxygen there," as he placed his owntank on the opposite side:
Out of the tanks stout tubes led, with stopcocks and gages at the top.From a case under his arm Kennedy produced a curious arrangement like ahuge hook, with a curved neck and a sharp beak. Really it consisted oftwo metal tubes which ran into a sort of cylinder, or mixing chamber,above the nozzle, while parallel to them ran a third separate tube witha second nozzle of its own. Quickly he joined the ends of the tubes fromthe tanks to the metal hook, the oxygen-tank being joined to two of thetubes of the hook, and the second tank being joined to the other. Witha match he touched the nozzle gingerly. Instantly a hissing, spittingnoise followed, and an intense blinding needle of flame.
"Now for the oxy-acetylene blowpipe," cried Kennedy as he advancedtoward the steel door. "We'll make short work of this."
Almost as he said it, the steel beneath the blowpipe becameincandescent.
Just to test it, he cut off the head of a three-quarter-inch steelrivet--taking about a quarter of a minute to do it. It was evident,though, that that would not weaken the door appreciably, even if therivets were all driven through. Still they gave a starting-point for theflame of the high-pressure acetylene torch.
It was a brilliant sight. The terrific heat from the first nozzle causedthe metal to glow under the torch as if in an open-hearth furnace. Fromthe second nozzle issued a stream of oxygen under which the hot metalof the door was completely consumed. The force of the blast as thecompressed oxygen and acetylene were expelled carried a fine spray ofthe disintegrated metal visibly before it. And yet it was not a big holethat it made--scarcely an eighth of an inch wide, but clear and sharpas if a buzz-saw were eating its way through a three-inch plank of whitepine.
With tense muscles Kennedy held this terrific engine of destructionand moved it as easily as if it had been a mere pencil of light. He waseasily the calmest of us all as we crowded about him at a respectfuldistance.
"Acetylene, as you may know," he hastily explained, never pausing for amoment in his work, "is composed of carbon and hydrogen. As it burns atthe end of the nozzle it is broken into carbon and hydrogen--the carbongives the high temperature, and the hydrogen forms a cone that protectsthe end of the blowpipe from being itself burnt up."
"But isn't it dangerous?" I asked, amazed at the skill with which hehandled the blowpipe.
"Not particularly--when you know how to do it. In that tank is a porousasbestos packing saturated with acetone, under pressure. Thus I cancarry acetylene safely, for it is dissolved, and the possibility ofexplosion is minimised. This mixing chamber by which I am holding thetorch, where the oxygen and acetylene mix, is also designed in sucha way as to prevent a flash-back. The best thing about this style ofblowpipe is the ease with which it can be transported and the curioususes--like the present--to which it can be put."
He paused a moment to test the door. All was silence on the other side.The door itself was as firm as ever.
"Huh!" exclaimed one of the detectives behind me, "these new-fangledthings ain't all they're cracked up to be. Now if I was runnin' thisshow, I'd dynamite that door to kingdom come."
"And wreck the house and kill a few people," I returned, hotly resentingthe criticism of Kennedy. Kennedy affected not to hear.
"When I shut off the oxygen in this second jet," he resumed as ifnothing had been said, "you see the torch merely heats the steel. I canget a heat of approximately sixty-three hundred degrees Fahrenheit, andthe flame will exert a pressure of fifty pounds to the square inch."
"Wonderful!" exclaimed O'Connor, who had not heard the remark of hissubordinate and was watching with undisguised admiration. "Kennedy, howdid you ever think of such a thing?"
"Why, it's used for welding, you know," answered Craig as he continuedto work calmly in the growing excitement: "I first saw it in actualuse in mending a cracked cylinder in an automobile. The cylinder wasrepaired without being taken out at all. I've seen it weld new teeth andbuild up old worn teeth on gearing, as good as new."
He paused to let us see the terrifically heated metal under the flame.
"You remember when we were talking on the drive about the raid,O'Connor? A car-load of scrap-iron went by on the railroad below us.They use this blowpipe to cut it up, frequently. That's what gave me theidea. See. I turn on the oxygen now in this second nozzle. The blowpipeis no longer an instrument for joining metals together, but forcutting them asunder. The steel burns just as you, perhaps, have seena watch-spring burn in a jar of oxygen. Steel, hard or soft, tempered,annealed, chrome, or Harveyised, it all burns just as fast and just aseasily. And it's cheap too. This raid may cost a couple of dollars, asfar as the blowpipe is concerned--quite a difference from the thousandsof dollars' loss that would follow an attempt to blow the door in."
The last remark was directed quietly at the doubting detective. He hadnothing to say. We stood in awe-struck amazement as the torch slowly,inexorably, traced a thin line along the edge of the door.
Minute after minute sped by, as the line burned by the blowpipe cutstraight from top to bottom. It seemed hours to me. Was Kennedy going toslit the whole door and let it fall in with a crash?
No, I could see that even in his cursory examination of the door he hadgained a pretty good knowledge of the location of the bolts imbedded inthe steel. One after another he was cutting clear through and severingthem, as if with a superhuman knife.
What was going on on the other side of the door, I wondered. I couldscarcely imagine the consternation of the gamblers caught in their owntrap.
With a quick motion Kennedy turned off the acetylene and oxygen. Thelast bolt had been severed. A gentle push of the hand, and he swung theonce impregnable door on its delicately poised hinges as easily as if hehad merely said, "Open Sesame." The robbers' cave yawned before us.
We made a rush up the stairs. Kennedy was first, O'Connor next, andmyself scarcely a step behind, with the rest of O'Connor's men at ourheels.
I think we were all prepared for some sort of gun-play, for the crookswere desperate characters, and I myself was surprised to encounternothing but physical force, which was quickly, overcome.
In the now disordered richness of the rooms, waving his "John Doe"warrants in one hand and his pistol in the other, O'Connor shouted"you're all under arrest, gentlemen. If you resist further it will gohard with you."
Crowded now in one end of the room in speechless amazement was the lategay party of gamblers, including Senator Danfield himself. They hadreckoned on toying with any chance but this. The pale white face ofDeLong among them was like a spectre, as he stood staring blankly aboutand still insanely twisting the roulette wheel before him.
Kennedy advanced toward the table with an ax which he had seized fromone of our men. A well-directed blow shattered the mechanism of thedelicate wheel.
"DeLong," he said, "I'm not going to talk to you like your old professorat the university, nor like your recent friend, the Frenchman with asystem. This is what you have been up against, my boy. Look."
His forefinger indicated an ingenious, but now tangled and twisted,series of minute wires and electro-magnets in the broken wheel beforeus. Delic
ate brushes led the current into the wheel. With another blowof his axe, Craig disclosed wires running down through the leg of thetable to the floor and under the carpet to buttons operated by the manwho ran the game.
"Wh--what does it mean?" asked DeLong blankly.
"It means that you had little enough chance to win at a straight game ofroulette. But the wheel is very rarely straight, even with all theodds in favour of the bank, as they are. This game was electricallycontrolled. Others are mechanically controlled by what is sometimescalled the 'mule's ear,' and other devices. You can't win. These wiresand magnets can be made to attract the little ball into any pocketthe operator desires. Each one of those pockets contains a littleelectro-magnet. One set of magnets in the red pockets is connected withone button under the carpet and a battery. The other set in the blackpockets is connected with another button and the battery. This ball isnot really of platinum. Platinum is nonmagnetic. It is simply a softiron hollow ball, plated with platinum. Whichever set of electro-magnetsis energised attracts the ball and by this simple method it is in thepower of the operator to let the ball go to red or black as he maywish. Other similar arrangements control the odd or even, and othercombinations from other push buttons. A special arrangement took careof that '17' freak. There isn't an honest gambling-machine in the wholeplace--I might almost say the whole city. The whole thing is crookedfrom start to finish--the men, the machines, the--"
"That machine could be made to beat me by turning up a run of '17' anynumber of times, or red or black, or odd or even, over '18' or under'18,' or anything?"
"Anything, DeLong."
"And I never had a chance," he repeated, meditatively fingering thewires. "They broke me to-night. Danfield"--DeLong turned, lookingdazedly about in the crowd for his former friend, then his handshot into his pocket, and a little ivory-handled pistol flashedout--"Danfield, your blood is on your own head. You have ruined me."
Kennedy must have been expecting something of the sort, for he seizedthe arm of the young man, weakened by dissipation, and turned the pistolupward as if it had been in the grasp of a mere child.
A blinding flash followed in the farthest corner of the room and a hugepuff of smoke. Before I could collect my wits another followed in theopposite corner. The room was filled with a dense smoke.
Two men were scuffing at my feet. One was Kennedy. As I dropped downquickly to help him I saw that the other was Danfield, his face purplewith the violence of the struggle.
"Don't be alarmed, gentlemen," I heard O'Connor shout, "the explosionswere only the flashlights of the official police photographers. We nowhave the evidence complete. Gentlemen, you will now go down quietly tothe patrol-wagons below, two by two. If you have anything to say, say itto the magistrate of the night court."
"Hold his arms, Walter," panted Kennedy.
I did. With a dexterity that would have done credit to a pickpocket,Kennedy reached into Danfield's pocket and pulled out some papers.
Before the smoke had cleared and order had been restored, Craigexclaimed: "Let him up, Walter. Here, DeLong, here are the I.O.U.'sagainst you. Tear them up--they are not even a debt of honour."
Thank you for reading books on BookFrom.Net Share this book with friends