“Stanley Berger,” said the Red Envoy, in a quiet, solemn voice, “I have offered you help. You may leave to-morrow for South America.
“Instructions will be given you by telephone at exactly seven to-morrow morning. But remember” — the lips moved slowly beneath the crimson mask — “you would have betrayed our cause. You cannot control your future.
“While you live, you may again fail to preserve silence. Death is the punishment for those who betray. We do not accept excuses.”
The Red Envoy thrust out an arm. In his gloved hand he held a small box. He opened it, and revealed three pills within. He laid the box upon the table and stepped away.
Stanley Berger’s eyes grew large with horror. He stared at the box and its contents, and through his tortured brain flashed thoughts of doom.
Close by, a living menace, stood the Red Envoy, coldly watching the effect of his action. Then, satisfied that Berger understood, the masked man silently left the room.
Stanley Berger did not hear him go. Realization had dulled his senses.
His mind reverted to the letters that he had written.
“When you receive this letter, I shall be gone — “
Gone! He had not stated his destination. The words that the Red Envoy had dictated had held more than one meaning.