Chapter 11
RONTZ!
Dene was dumbfounded. Was this to be the end of his New York adventure? So Hermie, the elusive, the unfathomable, was dead. Enigmatic to the last, he had slipped away into eternity, leaving unspoken the word that might have saved Gerry Cloan from the gallows. That was why he had been killed, of course. That grinning death-mask was still before Dene’s eyes. Livid and grotesque, it seemed to smile in malicious triumph over his discomfiture.
A torrent of half-formed ideas poured tumbling into his bewildered brain, a flood carrying like straws upon its surface fleeting suspicions, errant clues. He remembered those furtive gunmen waiting at the boat, their irruption, pistol in hand, at the Club Calderon; Rocco and his rasping threats; the girl at his side, so proud, so fast
