“Here.”
“You came directly here?”
“Yes.”
“How long have you been here, then?”
“Only a few minutes.”
Glancing toward his visitor, Stanley Berger saw a thin, faint smile appear upon the lips beneath the mask.
“What time do you think it is?”
“Nearly ten o’clock,” was Berger’s reply to the question.
“It is after eleven,” said the Red Envoy quietly.
Stanley Berger ran his hand through his hair.