"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 little if he could have heard, for the clerk and the bellhop shared the opinion of him held by the rest of the world; an opinion he carefully fostered. Few knew of his real interest in life, which was that of criminal detection. He tensed as he swung into the anteroom of the office suite. Gest, one of the rare persons who knew of his unique detective work, had babbled something of a Doctor Satan when he phoned long distance. Doctor Satan! The mention of that name was enough to bring Keane instantly from wherever he was, with his powers pitched to their highest and keenest point in an effort to crush at last the unknown individual who lived for outlawed thrills. As soon as he opened the door, it was apparent that something was wrong. There was no one sitting at the information desk, and from closed doors beyond came the hum of excited voices. Keane went to the door where the hum sounded loudest and opened that. He stared in at three men bending over a fourth who lay on the floor, stark and motionless--obviously dead! Keane strode to them. "Who are you, sir?" grated Kroner. "What the devil----" "Keane!" breathed Gest. "Thank God you're here! There has just been a murder. I'm sure it's murder--though how it was done, and who did it, are utterly beyond me." "This is your Ascott Keane?" said Kroner, in a slightly different tone. His eyes gained a little respect as they rested on Keane's light gray, icily calm eyes. "Yes. Keane--Kroner, vice president. And this is Chichester, treasurer and secretary." Keane nodded, and stared at the dead man. "And this?" "Wilson, assistant manager. He came in a minute or two ago, saying he had something of the utmost importance to tell us about the players in the roulette room...." Keane nodded. He had been told of that just before he took a plane for Blue Bay. Gest swallowed painfully and went on: "Wilson had just started to explain. He said something about the roulette wheel, and then fell dead. Literally. He fell forward on his face as though he had been shot. But he wasn't. There isn't a mark on his body. And he couldn't have been poisoned before he came in here. No poison could act so exactly, striking at the precise second to keep him from disclosing his find." "Doctor's report?" said Keane.