Through a tiny hole in the revolving wall, he could see the large room of the Pink Rat, yet he was quite invisible in his compartment.
The lights had been turned on in the den, and the whole scene lay before him. The sudden attack had caused chaos.
The patrons of the Pink Rat were desperate crooks. The brief battle in the darkness had caused some to look for safety, while others had sought to participate in the fracas.
One man was sitting on a bench, rubbing the side of his face. He was the one whom Harry had punched in the dark.
Volovick was standing in the center of the room, uninjured. Evidently he had managed to ward off the bench which Harry had hurled upon him.
Broken bottles, and fragments of shattered glasses strewed the place. Two policemen were there. They had been attracted by the shots. But they seemed to be making a very halfhearted investigation.
A ruddy-faced, shrewd-nosed man was explaining matters to them. Harry decided that the fellow must be the proprietor of the Pink Rat. If so, the place was well-named. The man looked something like a pink rat himself.
Harry could not hear the discussion, but evidently the officers were satisfied that no one had been injured.
This upstairs den was protected through political influence. Nothing short of actual open murder could have brought on a raid.
Murder had been attempted, it was true. Harry shuddered as he realized that he had been the intended victim. But it had been planned as a quick, quiet murder, with no noise.