“A few friends,” explained the suave alien, rubbing his hands together and still bowing, “remain playing dominoes with me.” “Very good,” rapped Kerry. “Well, if you think we have given them time to hide the ‘wheel’ we’ll go in. Oh, don’t explain. I’m not worrying about sticklebacks tonight. I’m out for salmon.” He opened a door on the left of the landing and entered a large room which offered evidence of having been hastily evacuated by a considerable company. A red and white figured cloth of a type much used in Continental cafés had been spread upon a long table, and three foreigners, two men and an elderly woman, were bending over a row of dominoes set upon one corner of the table. Apparently the men were playing and the woman was watching. But there was a dense cloud of cigar smoke in the room, and mingled with its pungency were sweeter scents. A number of empty champagne bottles stood upon a sideboard and an elegant silk theatre-bag lay on a chair. “H’m,” said Kerry, glaring fiercely from the bottles to the players, who covertly were watching him. “How you two smarts can tell a domino from a door-knocker after cracking a dozen magnums gets me guessing.” He took up the scented bag and gravely handed it to the old woman. “You have mislaid your bag, madam,” he said. “But, fortunately, I noticed it as I came in.” He turned the glance of his fierce eyes upon the man who had met him on the landing, and who had followed him into the room. “Third floor, von Hindenburg,” he rapped. “Don’t argue. Lead the way.” For one dangerous moment the man’s brow lowered and his heavy face grew blackly menacing. He exchanged a swift look with his friends seated at the disguised roulette table. Kerry’s jaw muscles protruded enormously. “Give me another answer like that,” he said in a tone of cold ferocity, “and I’ll kick you from here to Paradise.” “No offense—no offense,” muttered the man, quailing before the savagery of the formidable Chief Inspector. “You come this way, please. Some ladies call upon me this evening, and I do not want to frighten them.” “No,” said Kerry, “you wouldn’t, naturally.” He stood aside as a door at the further end of the room was opened. “After you, my friend. I said ‘lead the way.’” They mounted to the third floor of the restaurant. The room which they had just quitted was used as an auxiliary dining and supper-room before midnight, as Kerry knew. After midnight the centre table was unmasked, and from thence onward to dawn, sometimes, was surrounded by roulette players. The third floor he had never visited, but he had a shrewd idea that it was not entirely reserved for the private use of the proprietor.