“You don’t know it? Well, neither did I a few weeks ago. I dreamed, no more than you, that such a spot existed; yet to-night it’s my place of fate. For ‘my friend’s’ friends go there to-night, Steve, to see what he can show them. It’s a date; he’s got to be present. The Flamingo Feather’s a hall, Steve--one of those halls that the police raid with the reserves in force, with half a dozen wagons, or leave severely alone. There’s a masque ball on there to-night--with fancy figures and favors. There’s a celebration on, you see; and something to expect.” “You going?” “I? He’ll be there, I said. Do you want to chance it, Steve?” XI THE THIEVES’ BALL. The approach to the floor of the Flamingo Feather was past a bakery, a pawnshop, a drink parlor, all decorous and dreary. Then there was a door distinguished by a bracket extending a black, iron basket in which a yellow electric bulb glowed. Over the street, this and a single iron feather painted flame color made a flaunt of festivity. From the door stretched a hall, tinted Pompeian red and reaching toward gents’ smoking rooms and the placarded penetralia of ladies; upward led iron stairs to the ballroom, let by the hour or evening, at rates proclaimed on a card. I realized, as I entered, that I had heard of this place--or at least of its sister ballrooms--scores of times. For here revelled those indefinite, intriguing organizations named, by their members, “The Apollo Pleasure Club” and “The Brothers of Byzas” (whoever he was) and “the Ten Terpsichoreans,” who from their handbill, pasted on the Pompeian wall, evidently hoped to enroll, at a dollar per gent (ladies with escort free) several hundred paying guests. In fact, few of the coming social functions, advertised in this hall, appeared to be exclusive. Yet I might be in error. Judging from to-night’s bill, which simply said--“Special--To-night: Mask and Costume Ball; Get your tickets in Advance--Special”--one might assume a catholicity of welcome not sustained by the manner of two tall--and masked--gentlemen in the hall beside a little table at the foot of the stairs. I did not doubt that to-night, at least, there had been an exercise of selection by whomsoever (they were not named on the notice) sold tickets in advance. And here, at the foot of the stairs, was a second inspection. Each masker, or at least one in every group, lifted his cover when passing the table. Jerry did that for the two of us; of course he had tickets and we were passed and, after checking our outer garments, we climbed to the ballroom where jazz was playing.