V

In their suite at the Grand Hôtel, the Persian unrolled architectural plans. Riolama was at his shoulder, big eyes taking in details. She was a quick study. The bird girl still didn't talk much. Gilberte couldn't imagine her upbringing, but she had a lively mind.

When he leased the bank, Kane made many alterations. He had openly put in gaming machines, Mutoscopes and a Burgher Kane, stamping his K everywhere. The secret purpose of the work was to turn the Casino into a giant machine. A transparent overlay, initialled by Engineer Hattison, showed electrical wires threading through the building like nerves. The globe of lights in the main salon was hollow, like a diving bell. Using telescopic devices, a small person concealed within could have close-up views of every gaming table in the hall. A panel of switches and levers could dictate each spin of a wheel or turn of the cards. The croupiers were literally hooked up; special garters threaded wires through their shoe-soles to make contact with metal plates – the K motifs in the carpets. The Eye-Ball could apply tiny shocks in coded patterns, conveying instructions to the men on the floor.

Decks of cards, printed and sealed on the premises, arrived at the chemin-de-fer table or the baccarat shoe pre-shuffled to suit the house, backs marked in an ink which showed when viewed through a red lens the controller could slot into the telescopes.

'How did Monsieur Erik obtain these plans?' Gilberte asked. 'I'm surprised Kane is careless with such things.'

The Persian tapped his long nose. 'It's one thing to pay for such a system, but another to design it, and quite another again to build it. Few firms are capable of executing such a commission. The fellow who said he didn't care what it cost to have a cathedral-size pipe organ dismantled and reassembled in a cavern under Paris has more goodwill with those specialists than a Yankee vulgarian who quibbled about every franc spent on installing his wonderful cheating machine. Among other accomplishments, Erik is the greatest secret architect of the age. Who do you think the workmen who built Kane's Europa-Xanadu look to for regular employment? We had these plans from the draughtsmen even before Kane did.'

Riolama held up one of the flimsies, looking at it several ways, and made little cooing noises.

'Monsieur Kane is no believer in games of chance,' Gilberte observed.

'Americans always brag about how much they love to gamble,' said the Persian. 'What they mean is that they love to win. Kane doesn't even think of this as cheating. He is simply unwilling to play any game where he doesn't make up the rules. He takes undue pride in his own cleverness…'

'The vain in Kane is mainly in the brain,' mused Elizabeth.

'I think she's got it,' said the Persian. 'By Georges, she's got it. The vain in Kane
is mainly in the brain, and the bane of Kane is plainly to our gain. So have you seen it?'

Gilberte snapped her fingers.

'Gigi, you've seen it!'

Kane, swelling inside his waistcoat from too many Fatty Feasts, could not personally run his machine. He had paid for a marvellous toy, but someone else blew the whistle and rang the bell.

'He takes one enormous risk,' she said. 'He must trust whoever sits inside his Eye-Ball.'

'Just so,' said the Persian, pulling out another plan. 'But Kane takes precautions. In the average casino, the heaviest security arrangements – the biggest guards and the thickest doors – are for the vault where the money is kept. In Royale-les-Eaux, the most inaccessible room is directly above the main hall. Kane keeps his newest acquisitions there, paintings and statues and trinkets. The gallery is also the only point of access to the Eye-Ball. The sky-light is electrified. The windows have shutters, sharpened like guillotine blades, which slice down if something – say, a burglar's limb – is thrust through. Monsieur Voltaire personally ensures no one even gets up the stairs to the main door, which is also electrified. The British cracksman AJ Raffles cased the gallery last month, and decided not to bother. Even the authentic Irma Vep couldn't get in easily.'

Gilberte shrugged. Irma could take care of her own reputation.

'It is fortunate for us that birds may fly where bats cannot,' said the Persian.

Riolama chirruped.

'In myth,' said Elizabeth, 'the sculptor Pygmalion brought Galatea to life. We must now reverse the process, for only a statue can get into that room.'