“I shall go there,” declared the Red Envoy. “Notify your agent to expect me. I shall gain the plans. When I do — you will receive a telephone call — by long distance. It will give you time to make immediate arrangements.
“After making such arrangements, either remain here or leave a note, telling me where to call for the tickets — and just what my schedule will be. I have the passports.”
Prokop bowed in acknowledgment.
The Red Agent rose from his chair. As he did so, the shadow behind him seemed to grow. Prokop saw it, and uttered a startled cry. The Red Envoy, turning toward the door, obscured Prokop’s view.
“What is the matter?” questioned the masked man.
“Nothing,” said Prokop. He could see the door now — the blotch of darkness was no longer there. “I must be excited; I thought I saw something behind you.”
The Red Envoy made no reply. He walked to the door, opened it, and was gone. Prokop watched from his window, standing at the side, and peering through the crack of a shade. He did not see the Red Envoy in the street.
There was a reason. The Red Envoy took off his mask and gloves as he went down the dark stairs, and obscured his face in the collar of his coat.
When he left the door of the apartment house, he kept close to the wall, and was scarcely visible as he moved rapidly away.
People who were passing him did not see him; had they looked closely, they would have noticed his tall form, as it went along beside the dark wall.