switchboard girls to hear of this just yet."

Keane's look of acknowledgment was grim.

"The publicity. Of course. We'll have to move fast to save Blue Bay."

"If you can save it, now," muttered Chichester.

* * * * *

The door opened, and Doctor Grays stepped in, with consternation in his
brown eyes as he saw the man on the floor.

They left him to examine the body, and the three officials told Keane
all the details they knew of the strange tragedy that had overtaken
Weems and, two and a half hours later, the nine in the roulette room.

They returned to the conference room. Grays faced them.

"Wilson died of a heart attack," he said. "The symptoms are
unmistakable. His death seems normal...."

"Normal--but beautifully timed," murmured Keane.

"Right," nodded the doctor. "We'll want an autopsy at once. The police
are on their way here. They're indirectly in our employ, as are all in
Blue Bay; but they won't be able to keep this out of the papers for very
long!"

"Where are Weems and the rest?"

"In my suite."

"I'd like to see them, please."

In Doctor Grays' suite, Keane stared with eyes that for once had lost
some of their calm, at the weird figures secluded in the bedroom. This
room was kept locked against the possibility of a chambermaid or other
hotel employee coming in by mistake. An unwarned person might well have
gone at least temporarily insane at the sudden sight of the ten in that
bedroom.

In a chair near the door sat Weems. He was bent forward a little as
though leaning over a table. He stared unwinkingly at space. In his hand
was still a champagne glass, raised near his lips.

Standing around the room were the nine others, each in the position he
or she had been in when rigidity overtook them in the roulette room.
They stared wide-eyed ahead of them, motionless, expressionless. It was
like walking into a wax-works museum, save that these statuesque figures
were of flesh and blood, not wax.

"They're all dead as far as medical tests show," Grays said. There was
awe and terror in his voice. "Yet--they're not dead! A child could tell
that at a glance. I don't know what's wrong."

"Why don't you put them to bed?" said Keane.

"We can't. Each of the ten seems to be in some kind of spell that makes
it impossible for his body to take any but that one position. We've laid
them down--and in a moment they're up again and in the former position,
moving like slee