He kept his eyes fixed upon the men in the corner; but his thoughts were centered upon the young woman.
HARRY regained his alertness with a sudden start. The man in the corner had risen. Apparently he was about to leave the Pink Rat.
No; he was shaking hands with his companion. It was the other who was leaving.
Harry caught a glimpse of the second man’s face, as the fellow left the place. The man looked like a gangster — hardened features, shrewd eyes, and a firm, unflinching stare.
The man whom Harry had followed now strolled across the room, and took a seat at a table directly in front of Harry. A man and a woman were at the table. They greeted the newcomer.
“Hello, Volovick.”
Harry made a mental note of the name. He listened closely, hoping to catch some words of conversation.
At first the talk was fairly audible, but of no consequence. Volovick spoke with a foreign accent.
Then his words became low, and Harry could not understand them. He strained his ears intently.
Just as he seemed about to catch a few remarks, Volovick’s voice became a little louder, but now he was talking in some unknown language.