He was tottering slightly as he took his place at the table.
A half hour passed.
There had been a stirring in the place during the evening. This increased by degrees.
Harry gradually realized that something was afoot. Usually, the Black Ship was crowded at this hour. Now it was virtually devoid of patrons. What was up?
A nondescript gangster settled on the other side of the table. He looked at Harry and grinned.
“Hopped up, eh?” he questioned.
Harry made no response.
“Guess you’re dead from the neck up,” was the man’s comment.
“Huh?” grunted Harry.
“There’s some life in you,” said the gangster. “Handle a rod, do you?”