'Write your full story. Tell everything.'
The voice, despite its uncanny whisper, seemed friendly and helpful.
'Sign your name beneath, when you have finished. Mail the letter. Then you can forget.'
The man at the table placed the pen upon the paper. He seemed to be engaged in deep thought, his mind
groping in the past.
The hand moved away. The fire opal was no longer before Stanley Berger's eyes. Yet its glow still
persisted. He imagined that he saw the mysterious crimson gem upon the white paper in front of him.
As he slowly began to write, the fiery blotch followed the point of his pen.
Stanley Berger was a man in a trance, still governed by the dynamic presence of The Shadow, which he
could feel beside him. He could do nothing other than obey the commands he had received.
Yet The Shadow was no longer there. Silently, noiselessly, like a phantom of the night, the man of
mystery had left the apartment.
CHAPTER VII. AT THE PINK RAT
THE main room of the Pink Rat was a dingy, sordid place. It was dimly lighted, and was furnished with
old tables, and cheap, unpainted benches.
Yet, despite its uninviting appearance, the Pink Rat was well patronized. Clustered about its tables were
as many as twenty men, and a few women.
The bottles that stood on the tables were mute evidence of the Pink Rat's attraction. The den was a
booze joint, run in open defiance of the law.
Harry Vincent saw all this at a single glance. He took his place in an obscure corner, and surveyed the
crowd.
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?
Harry could see the man's swarthy face—an ugly, frowning face. But he could not make out the features
of the man's companion. The other individual had his back toward Harry.
Looking about him, Harry studied the other persons in the room.
The women who were with companions were talking loudly. They were evidently the associates of
gangsters and racketeers.
There was one woman who sat alone. She was on the opposite side of the room, at a small table.
A bottle and a glass stood in front of her, but like Harry, she was not drinking. Her quietness of manner
impressed Harry Vincent. Her head was slightly turned, so he could not well see her face, yet her general
appearance was most attractive.
She seemed young, and Harry wondered what had brought her to this notorious den.
In studying the girl, Harry forgot all about the man whom he was following. Unconsciously he kept staring
across the room, his eyes fixed upon the woman.
She was well dressed; and blond, bobbed hair showed beneath the small black hat that she wore.
As though suddenly conscious of Harry's gaze, the girl turned her face toward him. Harry could not
repress a gasp of astonishment.
The girl was indeed young, and her features possessed beauty and charm. Her complexion was light and
even in the dimness, Harry could tell that her eyes were blue.
The girl looked at Harry Vincent. Her eyes moved slightly as she appeared to study him with a keen
glance. Harry was fascinated.
He still continued to stare, wondering more than before why this amazing creature should have come,
unattended, to such a place as the Pink Rat.
Admiration must have expressed itself in Harry's glance, for the girl's eyes met his, and she smiled slightly.
Harry was gripped by a strange emotion.
Women had not interested him for many months. Before he had met The Shadow, Harry had been in
love; but the girl whom he adored had married another man. Since then he had been woman-proof.
But now—the quickened beating of his heart told him that he had found a new love.
The girl's eyes interested Harry. They held an expression that encouraged him. Somehow, he knew that
his interest was reciprocated.
He felt that the girl was wondering why he was here—just as he had wondered why she had come to this
place. They had something in common. Each seemed to know instinctively that the other was not a
person of the underworld.
The girl turned away suddenly. She opened a hand bag, and began to look for something. She did not
appear to be embarrassed, but Harry realized that she had sought to escape his fixed gaze.
He looked toward the corner of the room where the two men were engaged in conversation. But a
moment later, he glanced back toward the girl, and smiled to himself. For he had detected her watching
him from the corner of her eye.
Harry was hesitating between duty and desire. He had a mission here - to watch the man who had
followed Stanley Berger. But he felt an irrepressible longing to meet the blond girl; to talk with her; to
learn her name.
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
