It was that of a man clad in black, wearing a black cloak and a black hat. He laughed as he stood in the center of the room, and his laugh echoed weirdly from the walls.
Shortly afterward, the same figure came from the front door of Prince Zuvor’s house. There was no sedan outside to-night; yet the figure kept to the shadows. Reaching the corner of the avenue, the man became less stealthy. He stepped into a taxicab, and gave an address to the driver.
The cab arrived a short time later in front of a hotel near Times Square. The passenger alighted and entered the hotel. He stopped at the desk, and gave the number of a room. The clerk made the call.
“Mr. Marquette?” he asked. “Yes? A gentleman to see you.”
He turned to the man in black, who was looking in the opposite direction.
“Go right up, sir,” said the clerk.
CHAPTER XXXI
AT THE MEETING
ONE by one the Red agents had assembled at their meeting place. They had been scrutinized and admitted by Prokop.
To-night he had questioned none of them. He was anxious to begin the meeting. He had been particularly pleased when Fritz Bloch had appeared.