The hand moved away. The fire opal was no longer before Stanley Berger’s eyes. Yet its glow still persisted. He imagined that he saw the mysterious crimson gem upon the white paper in front of him.
As he slowly began to write, the fiery blotch followed the point of his pen.
Stanley Berger was a man in a trance, still governed by the dynamic presence of The Shadow, which he could feel beside him. He could do nothing other than obey the commands he had received.
Yet The Shadow was no longer there. Silently, noiselessly, like a phantom of the night, the man of mystery had left the apartment.
CHAPTER VII
AT THE PINK RAT
THE main room of the Pink Rat was a dingy, sordid place. It was dimly lighted, and was furnished with old tables, and cheap, unpainted benches.
Yet, despite its uninviting appearance, the Pink Rat was well patronized. Clustered about its tables were as many as twenty men, and a few women.
The bottles that stood on the tables were mute evidence of the Pink Rat’s attraction. The den was a booze joint, run in open defiance of the law.
Harry Vincent saw all this at a single glance. He took his place in an obscure corner, and surveyed the crowd.