e 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----"

_3. The Stopped Watch_

Down at the lobby door, a long closed car slid to a stop. From it
stepped two people. One was a tall, broad-shouldered man with a
high-bridged nose, long, strong jaw, and pale gray eyes under heavy
black eyebrows. The other was a girl, equally tall for her sex,
beautifully formed, with reddish brown hair and dark blue eyes.

The two walked to the registration desk in the lobby.

"Ascott Keane," the man signed. "And secretary, Beatrice Dale."

"Your suite is ready for you, Mr. Keane," the clerk said obsequiously.
"But we had no word of your secretary's coming. Shall we----"

"A suite for her on the same floor if possible," Keane said crisply. "Is
Mr. Gest in the hotel?"

"Yes, sir. He is in the tower office."

"Have the boy take my things up. I'll go to the office first. Send word
up there what suite you've given Miss Dale."

Keane nodded to Beatrice, and walked to the elevators.

"Secretary!" snorted the key clerk to the head bellhop. "What's he want
a secretary for? He's never done any work in his life. Inherited umpteen
million bucks, and plays around all the time. Wish I was Ascott Keane."

The head bellhop nodded. "Pretty soft for him, all right. Hardest job he
has is to clip coupons...."

Which would have made Keane smile a lit