He was far from certain they believed him, but he was not held. At least he had a personal alibi. A thousand people plus the sheriff himself knew he had been at the hotel all evening.
An hour later he faced Doc and Dutch in his own office. Belowstairs the crowd still milled through the lobby, the gambhng room and the bars. He told Doc and Dutch what had happened. He said, "The doctor has found a private sanitarium at Santa Barbara. Well be married quietly in the morning, then I'll take her to California and stay with her. It will be tough enough for her even then, but at least she won't be facing things alone."
Doc said, "What happens when Celhni's heirs claim his points in the hotel? Can we keep it quiet, or will the tax commission hft our license because of our hoodlum partners?"
Chance shook his head wearily. "I don't know. You and Hoffner will have to see Grossman. It's to his advantage to keep CeHini's relatives quiet. Maybe he can. There's nothing we can do tonight."
He watched them go. Then he switched ofiF the office lamps, moved to the window, staring out across the patio at the long chain of Ughts which marked the line of the Strip as it ran out to lose itself in the darkness of the circHng desert.
Judy was sleeping. She did not yet know about Joe's death. He stood there burdened with a deep and soul-scarring sadness. This was to have been the greatest night of his life. He had his hotel, a chmax to all the years of striving, but at what a cost. He would give it up gladly to save Judy the torment of the weeks ahead, to bring Joe back to Hfe.
The red-and-green, gold-and-blue neon signs winked back at him, mocking. His Strip, no, Danzig's Strip. Danzig would not recognize it now—five miles of hotels unmatched by any in the world, owned by hundreds of people from Texas to Nev/ York to the Coast. The Syndicate did not control the town. No single group controlled it. The investment ran into the millions, and yet, if their gambling hcenses were revoked, they would have no more real substance than one of the desert mirages.
He turned from the window and crossed the office to step out onto the inner balcony, looking down on the bustle of the crowd below. Almost any one of those strugghng customers would have gladly changed places with him. They did not know how vulnerable his position v/as. If the tax commission did learn of his silent partners, and the license was revoked, the rooms below him would be empty and deserted when he returned, the doors locked, the building silent, for the hotel could not operate vdthout gambling.
Yesterday such a possibility would have terrified him, as Danzig had been terrified that he wouJd lose the Peacock. Today Chance did not care. All he was concerned with was Judy and her welfare. Everything else had shrunk to relative unimportance. He went slowly dowm the steps, feeling that he had Hved a miUion years. He was still not yet thirty-five.
Chance Elson Page 32