“They’re talking about the strong room, Hank,” Duronne was saying. “The purser’s seen Revoort; that’s a cinch. They’re liable to be watching the strong room later on.”
“How soon, Luke?” whispered Hank.
“I don’t know.” Duronne watched the speakers. “Psst! They’re coming this way, Hank!”
The purser and his companion walked past the card table, while Duronne and Hank busied themselves with their game. Both heard the officer say:
“All right, Mr. Lycher. From one o’clock on. Good night, sir.”
The purser left the smoking room; the other man strolled away. Hank whispered to Duronne.
“Did you get that, Luke?”
“Sure,” returned Duronne. “It means that guards will be posted around the strong room. But they won’t put them on until after most of the passengers have retired.”
“At one o’clock.”
“Yes. That gives us a good part of an hour. The purser’s gone below. Eddie will fix him and tip off Gouger. We’ll get the word. Stick to pinochle for a while, Hank.”
Hank grinned. He admired Duronne’s sang-froid; and with good reason. For, among the Coilmasters of The Python, Luke Duronne was one of the most capable when it came to handling deliberate crime.
THE purser, Mr. Lycher, went directly to his own cabin after leaving the smoking room. There he removed the coat of his tightfitting uniform and stretched his portly body.
He brought a bottle of large pills from a bureau drawer and dropped three of the tablets into a drinking glass. He added water from a decanter and stirred the liquid with a spoon. When the pills had dissolved, the purser swallowed the medicine.
This was Lycher’s regular dosage; he used these pills in connection with a restricted diet. Overweight, the purser had long been trying to reduce. He followed the medicine with some calisthenics; after a few minutes of these exercises, he sat down on the edge of his bed.
Black spots were showing before Lycher’s eyes. A sudden nausea had gripped him. He began to waver; then caught himself with an effort. Faltering toward the door, he pressed a button; then staggered back across the cabin and slumped upon the bed.
Someone knocked at the door. The purser answered feebly. He lacked the strength to rise. A pass-key clicked in the lock; a peak-faced steward entered and stared at the prone figure on the bed.
“Is that you, Eddie?” queried Lycher, his eyes closed. “Give me a drink of water, will you?”
“Certainly, sir,” responded Eddie. He poured some water into the glass that had contained the medicine. “What is wrong, Mr. Lycher?”
“I’m sick.” The purser managed to rise and sip from the glass while Eddie held it. “I’m — feeling — feeling quite ill. You’d better — better summon the ship’s doctor.”
“Very well, sir.”
Eddie replaced the glass on the bureau. With his other hand, he produced a small bottle of pills and laid it beside the glass. He quickly pocketed the duplicate bottle from which the purser had taken the tablets. That done, Eddie looked over his shoulder and saw that Lycher’s eyes were still closed.
Quickly, the furtive-faced steward reached into the pocket of the purser’s coat. He gripped a bunch of keys, tightly, so they would not clink. They were hooked to the lining of the pocket; Eddie tore the cloth as he tugged the keys away. Lycher heard nothing; his lips were moving feebly.
EDDIE made a quick departure. He closed the door behind him, followed a long corridor and ascended a flight of stairs. He paused near a small foyer, while a few belated passengers entered an elevator. As soon as the lift had descended, the steward edged forward and wigwagged a signal toward a door that led to the deck.
A lurking man caught the signal. This fellow was a deck hand. Scurrying along a deck, he came to a hatchway and ascended the steps, which brought him to a deck outside the glass-inclosed smoking room.
He paused there, shifting close to the window; then moved away. He was seen by watchful eyes within. Luke Duronne spoke to his fellow pinochle player.
“It’s Gouger,” whispered Duronne. “The tip-off from Eddie. Come along, Hank.”
They ascended the near-by stairs to find Eddie awaiting them. The steward pointed across the foyer, toward a bulky door that was marked “Purser’s Office.”
He handed the key ring to Duronne.
“Lycher took the knock-out drops,” whispered Eddie. “From the bottle that I left for him. I switched the bottles; he was too groggy to see me do it. He didn’t see me grab the keys, either. I’ve unlocked the office door—”
“Come along then,” cut in Duronne. “Let’s get at that coffer.”
They entered the purser’s office. With the door closed, Duronne approached a safe-like strong box. He found the right key and opened the bulky door. The light showed a metal coffer, bound with iron bands; and equipped with stout locks. The chest was not much larger than a steamer trunk. But when Duronne tried to move it, the coffer failed to budge.
“Get Gouger,” he ordered.
Eddie fetched the deck hand, who was lurking outside the office. The four men managed to raise the heavy coffer. Trusting to chance, they lugged it from the office and followed the passage to the deck.
“Get the other fellows,” ordered Duronne, in a quick whisper to Gouger. “Stick with Gouger, Hank, to keep watch. It’s going to be a job taking this chest up the companionways. Remember: it goes in lifeboat number six.”
“Maybe we ought to crack the box,” suggested Gouger. “It would be easy to handle the swag if we did.”
“Yeah?” queried Duronne, savagely. “Do you think everybody’s deaf on board? Get along, you two. Come with me, Eddie.”
DURONNE and the steward made a quick return to the purser’s office, where they locked the strong box and extinguished the light. They then locked the door behind them; and sidled down the steps.
“Get back to Lycher’s cabin,” ordered Duronne, as he and Eddie neared the bottom of the stairway. “Put these keys back in his pocket. I’ll be in my cabin.”
“What about the doctor?” queried Eddie. “I’m supposed to get hold of him.”
“Tell Lycher you couldn’t locate him.”
The pair separated. Luck had been with Luke Duronne; it was not quite one o’clock; yet the Coilmaster had gained Revoort’s coffer before a watch had been instituted. But luck was due to change. Eddie found that out when he reached the purser’s cabin.
Lycher was sitting up; beside him stood the ship’s physician. The purser glowered as he saw Eddie. Although still weak, Lycher had recovered sufficiently to be angry.
“Where have you been?” he demanded. “I managed to call Doctor Reed’s cabin and found that he was there. Why didn’t you do that, Eddie?”
“I–I was looking other places,” returned the steward. “Sorry, Mr. Lycher. Are — are you feeling better, sir?”
“Yes. Doctor Reed gave me a restorative. I think I’ll be all right, doctor.”
“If you experience another spell of dizziness, call me at once.”
With this statement, the physician left the cabin. Lycher rubbed his forehead and looked at Eddie.
“I wonder if it could have been my pills,” he remarked. “Funny thing — they were absolutely tasteless tonight. Whew! That bowled me over. Pour me another glass of water, Eddie.”
The steward complied. As he approached Lycher with the glass, the purser arose. Somewhat unsteadily, he started toward the wall, to reach for his hanging coat.
“I–I wouldn’t try too much, sir,” stammered Eddie. “I–I would relax if I were you, sir.”
“I want my keys,” retorted Lycher. “They’re in my coat pocket.”
“I can get them for you, sir—”
“You wouldn’t know how to unfasten the hook that holds them.”