It required an effort to get the Q-ray machine into the space in the roulette pedestal, but Willington succeeded.
He attached the floor plug. Then he tested the machine. The crimson tubes sparkled. A smile appeared upon Willington’s pale face as his eyes spied an opening at the back of the pedestal. He turned about the machine and adjusted it so that the lever projected from the open space.
Then he put the roulette wheel back in place. He lifted the empty crate, carried it out and set it in the truck. He returned to the passage just as Tony Luggeto reappeared from the steps.
“Any sign of Nicky?” whispered Willington.
“Not yet.” Tony shook his head. “But he’s due soon. Got the thing planted?”
“Yes.” Willington stooped to indicate the lever, now hidden by the surface of the roulette wheel. “But don’t fool with it, Tony. It’s set just the way I want it.”
“But how does it work?”
“You won’t have to know. Leave that to me. When I give the signal once” — Willington crossed two fingers — “you press the lever all the way. A signal twice — push it back. I’ll play the right numbers. We’ll bust Nicky Donarth tonight.”
“Did you put the crate back in the truck?”
“Certainly. So you can get the machine out all alone. Load it in the crate and move the truck out tomorrow. Nicky will never know how we trimmed him.”
“Where will I take it?”
“I’ll tell you later.”
“All right,” nodded Tony. “But remember one thing. Keep out of Nicky’s office. Gyp and Turk may be around tonight. They won’t touch you in the gambling room. But in the office—”
“Don’t worry about me, Tony.”
“I’ve got to warn you. There’s two ways out from that place. The door that leads down here. Another that opens into a passage that goes the opposite way. And be careful after you leave the gambling joint. Gyp or Turk might tail you.”
“I’ll be careful. By the way, Tony, what about these steel doors in Nicky’s office. He leaves the keys in his desk?”
“Yes. Like I told you. And there’s bolts on the outsides of the doors. In the passages, see? So if anybody comes following along, they’ll he stuck even if they bust the locks.”
“I understand. All right, Tony. Go on up. I want to go around to the front street and see Nicky when he comes in.”
Tony Luggeto ushered Cuyler Willington out through the little garage. Tony’s face showed a pleased grin when his chief had departed. Locking the door to the garage, then the one to the little elevator, Tony ascended the stairs. When he reached Donarth’s office, Tony locked the door to the stairway. He replaced the keys in the desk; then turned out the light. A dull square of illumination came through the frosted surface of a thick skylight. It showed Tony opening the door that led toward the gambling room.
Past the barrier, Tony closed the door behind him. It latched automatically. The roulette operator strolled across the gambling room and used his own key to go out into the night club proper.
MEANWHILE, Cuyler Willington had arrived on Broadway. Standing by the entrance to the Club Cadiz, he was inserting a cigarette in his holder, when he observed the approach of Nicky Donarth.
Willington stretched out a hand.
“Hello, Nicky!” he exclaimed. “I thought you would be along soon.” Then, in a confidential tone, “Are you still running the roulette games?”
“Certainly, Mr. Willington.” responded Nicky, covering the surprise that his dark face had betrayed. “When will you be around again?”
“Tonight,” replied Willington, lighting a cigarette. His tone was casual. “I’m going out of town tomorrow. I thought that perhaps a little luck might help finance my trip.”
“Good,” said Nicky. “I’ll see you tonight then, Mr. Willington.”
Another handshake. Willington strolled away, puffing his cigarette. Nicky Donarth stood in portly pose, watching Willington’s departure. But Nicky did not see the smile that showed on Willington’s face.
Nicky displayed a grin of his own as he walked up the steps to the night club. He nodded to the waiters as he passed them. He waved a greeting to Tony Luggeto. He continued on through the gambling room.
He unlocked the door of his office and entered.
After turning on the light. Nicky locked the door and hastily picked up the telephone. Still grinning, the dark visaged night club operator dialed a number.
Nicky Donarth was calling Gyp Tangoli and Turk Berchler to let them know that he had learned where Cuyler Willington would be tonight.
CHAPTER XIII. TRAILS IN THE NIGHT
IT was nine o’clock that evening.
Gyp Tangoli, attired in gaudy dressing gown, was standing in the living room of his apartment. His dark face wore an evil scowl; his twisted lips, as they formed an ugly smile, showed a glimmer of his gold teeth.
Opposite Gyp was Turk Berchler. The squatty killer was seated in an easy-chair, puffing at a cigarette.
Turk’s pug-nosed face showed brownish in the light. His expression was one that indicated annoyance.
But Turk said nothing. He was waiting for Gyp to speak. The time came.
“We ought to have heard from Skeeter,” growled Gyp. “He’s been around that beanery for a couple of hours. It’s a cinch that he ought to have spotted Willington by this time.”
“I don’t figure it that way, Gyp,” returned Turk. “Why should Willington go back to the Hotel Royal?”
“That’s where he lives, isn’t it? And he’s in town.”
“Sure. But he’s taking no chances.”
“No? Then why is he talking about coming to the Club Cadiz?”
“It’s easy to figure, Gyp. Willington knows that somebody may be out to get him. He’s not quite sure, though. He thinks maybe the bump was really meant for Congo Mollin. But he’d be a palooka to go back to the Hotel Royal. The Club Cadiz is different, though.”
“Yeah? Why?”
“Because Nicky Donarth keeps gorillas out of that joint. Except any he might want to have around for protection. Willington figures the Club Cadiz is safe.”
“You don’t think he figures I’m out to get him?”
“Why should he? He don’t know what’s in your mind. You’ve never gone after him before.”
“Maybe you’re right, Turk. But Willington is smart. He might have figured that Driller Borson and Gat Lober were on my pay roll.”
“But he wouldn’t figure on meeting you at the Club Cadiz. That’s why he’s going there.”
Gyp nodded. Turk’s expression sounded logical. The two crooks faced each other in silence. Then Gyp spoke again.
“It looks like the Club Cadiz is the best bet,” he remarked. “That is, if Willington really shows up there.
Only Nicky was kind of squeamish when I talked to him.”
“I fixed that,” grunted Turk. “Nicky can’t back out on anything that I put up to him. He gave me an alibi, didn’t he? Well, he’s got to stick to it, or get in wrong with the bulls. Listen, Gyp: you don’t want Skeeter Wigan on the loose. Call him in from that beanery. He won’t see Willington around the Hotel Royal.”
GYP TANGOLI nodded. He clapped his hands. Instantly, his two Hindus appeared, each from a separate door.
Gyp spoke to the one called Mahmud. The fellow bowed and went to the telephone. He dialed a number; then in careful English, he asked to speak to Mr. Wigan. A short conversation followed.
Mahmud hung up.
“I have spoken to him, sahib,” said the Hindu, addressing Gyp Tangoli. “He will come here from that little restaurant where he now is.”
The Hindu turned and went into another room. Bundha copied the action, returning to the place from which he had come. Hardly had the Hindus departed before the telephone began to ring.