A sharp-eyed waiter spotted him, and came over to his table. Harry was in a quandary. He must make some pretense of being familiar with the den. Rather than betray himself by a mis-statement, he simply handed the waiter a five-dollar bill.
The man looked at him quizzically. Harry showed no concern.
The waiter went away and came back with a flask, a glass, and four dollars and twenty-five cents in change. Harry tipped him the quarter.
Mechanically, Harry poured out a glassful of the liquor. With his hand upon the glass, he looked about him.
The dimness of the room, which was thickly clouded with tobacco smoke, made it difficult to observe the persons present. But at last Harry spotted his man, talking with another at a corner table.
A full hour of waiting went by. Unobserved, Harry managed to empty the liquor into a cuspidor by the wall. This enabled him to order a second bottle when the waiter came his way again.
The Pink Rat was filled with men whose minds were swimming from the effects of bad liquor, and Harry, by maintaining his alertness, held a position of advantage.
His thoughts reverted to Stanley Berger, and he glanced at his watch. Not yet ten o’clock. It would be another hour before Berger would leave the theater — so Harry supposed.
He did not know that at that very moment, Berger was in his apartment.
WHO was this man who had followed Stanley Berger? Would he return to the theater to take up the trail again?