For Prokop had recently learned all about that elevator, through his agent, Fritz Bloch, the man who posed as Prince Zuvor’s servant.
The elevator had been adjusted for a catastrophe. But Prokop had hoped that some one would have been in it.
A slight sound interrupted Prokop’s musings. He looked up to see the Red Envoy standing before him.
The mysterious personage had arrived unseen. He had entered Prokop’s apartment unannounced. Now he was looking at Prokop; and his lips formed a straight, firm line beneath the crimson mask.
The Red Envoy did not speak. His expression appeared to be one of inquiry. He awaited a statement from Prokop.
When the latter had recovered from his astonishment, he went to the bookcase, and brought out his reports. When he turned around, he saw the Red Envoy sitting in a chair.
“I have very little progress to report,” said Prokop, in a reluctant voice.
“So I expected,” replied the Red Envoy dryly. “That is one reason why I did not visit you last night.”
PROKOP became a trifle nervous. The Red Envoy was between him and the door. As he looked at the man in the crimson mask, he fancied he saw something, beyond — a strange, dark shadow that rested just inside the door.
He stared for a moment; then, believing that the sudden arrival of the Red Envoy had started his imagination, he turned his attention back to the reports.