The morning newspapers had some very uncomplimentary things to say, both in the news columns and on the editorial page, concerning Sheriff Kowen.
The sheriff, who had had less than three hours' sleep, raged when he read, and tore the papers into shreds.
"That's right—blame me!" he shrieked. "Blame a man who was trying to do his duty! If I don't raid gambling houses, I get blamed, and if I do raid 'em, I get blamed again. How did I know that place was a plant? It was a gambling house, wasn't it?"
Since the sheriff was a bachelor, there was nobody in his apartment to enjoy this tirade. He went to his favorite restaurant for breakfast, and sat at a table far back in one corner, refusing to hold conversation with anybody who approached.
The sheriff was gathering anger. He did not intend to let Roger Verbeck and the police get all the credit when the master crook was caught again. He would go after the Black Star himself, he decided—swear in more deputies and call upon his men to win. There were certain political reasons for this. Moreover, the sheriff was a conscientious man; since the Black Star had escaped through his work, it was his duty, he felt, to recapture him.
Sheriff Kowen left the restaurant and walked toward the county jail, where he maintained his office. He passed countless persons he knew, both men and women, and saw many smiles that possessed a quality the sheriff did not relish. But he refused to take a taxicab—he would show the public that he was not in hiding!
"If I ever meet that Blanchard woman again——" the sheriff told himself; and just then he saw her.
She was on the walk a few feet ahead of him, going slowly toward a department store. Sheriff Kowen hurried up to her, touched her on the arm.
"I want to talk to you!" he said gruffly.
"Oh, good morning, sheriff!" she said, and smiled.
The sheriff was disconcerted for an instant, but composure returned to him quickly.
"We are only a block from the jail, and my office," he said. "I want to talk to you there. Shall we walk, or shall I call a cab and charge it to the county?"
There was a certain meaning to the last sentence, but she did not seem to realize it.
"I should be charmed to talk to you," she said, "but I have some shopping to do this morning."
"Your shopping will have to wait, young woman. This is a serious business."
"Why, what can you mean?" she asked.
"Either you walk along with me to my office, or you go as a prisoner!"
"Are you insane? Arrest me?"
"In a minute!" said Sheriff Kowen.
"I—I don't understand this—but I'll go along with you," said Mamie Blanchard.
"I thought you would," the sheriff returned.
He said nothing more as they walked down the street. He took her into his private office and offered her a chair at one end of his desk. He closed the door, telling the stenographer that he was not to be disturbed for the present.
"Now kindly tell me the meaning of this," said Mamie Blanchard. "I—you almost frightened me!"
"What do you know about the Black Star?" Kowen asked.
"Why, I read this morning that he escaped from your jail last night. You should be more careful."
Sheriff Kowen's face turned purple with wrath, but he controlled himself and bent toward her across the desk.
"And the cell he formerly occupied is now empty," he said. "Are you anxious to inhabit it for a time?"
"What do you mean, sir?" asked Mamie Blanchard.
"You tipped me off about that gambling house. It was nothing more or less than a trap whereby the Black Star could get a gang of his men into the jail and free him. You know it, and I know it, and it won't do you any good to try to bluff me!"
"Why, how dare you? How perfectly silly!"
"Silly, is it?"
"I never heard of such a thing! This affair must have turned your brain! I came in here yesterday merely to ask you if you required the services of a woman detective. I always have wanted to take up detective work, you know. You told me you did not, and so I left."
"What sort of nonsense is this?" the sheriff cried.
"Nonsense? Oh, I am sorry now that there was nobody else in the office to hear me!" And Miss Mamie Blanchard sat back and smiled at the official on the other side of the desk.
"So that's the way of it!" Kowen said. "You'll stick to that story, will you, because nobody else heard what you said yesterday? Woman detective! You know what you came in here for yesterday—to carry out the orders of the Black Star, help frame up that gambling-house deal——"
"Really, I do not care to listen to any more such talk!" Mamie Blanchard told him. "I am living with my mother at a respectable private hotel——"
"And your brother, the one who was going to the dogs?"
"Oh, I have no brother! You must be mistaken, sir!"
"You told me yesterday——"
"Really, you are mistaken. You are confusing my conversation with that of some other person, surely. Brother? Oh, no, sir!"
Sheriff Kowen stared at her. "You are a wonder," he said, "but I am afraid that you can't get away with it. The best thing for you will be tell me all you know about the Black Star, where his headquarters are located, and what he has planned to do. Do that—and do it right—and I may forget all about what happened yesterday."
"But I do not understand you! How should I know anything about that notorious criminal."
"Want me to throw you into that empty cell?"
"You dare!" she said, indignantly. "My people have money, sir, and I can promise you a damage suit that will give you food for thought! Are you not ridiculous enough in the eyes of the public already?"
Sheriff Kowen's face purpled again as he glared at her. He did not doubt, knowing the past history of the Black Star's organization, that this Blanchard woman would cause him trouble.
"Well, I'm going to let you get away with it for the time being," he said. "But don't think for a minute that you're fooling me! You are a member of the Black Star's gang, and I know it! When we land him and the others, we'll land you, too! And you'll get a nice, long sentence from the court!"
Mamie Blanchard stood up. "I do not care to be insulted further!" she said. "I regret that there are no witnesses. If you annoy me any more, I shall bring the matter to my lawyer's attention."
"I suppose he belongs to the gang also," said the sheriff.
He got up, too, but before he did, he touched a button beneath his desk. It caused a buzzer to sound in another office. This told the deputy there that the person leaving the sheriff's private room was to be shadowed.
Kowen opened the door and bowed his visitor out. She held her head high, and there was an expression of indignation in her face. The sheriff watched her disappear into the hall, and then reached for his hat.
On second thought, Kowen had decided to shadow Mamie Blanchard himself, assisting his deputy. He gave Miss Blanchard time to reach the street, and then he started. She was already half a block away, making for the nearest department store, and Kowen saw his faithful deputy trailing her.
Mamie Blanchard, under the eyes of the sheriff and deputy, entered the store and began making purchases in an ordinary manner. Kowen approached the deputy and engaged him in low conversation.
"That's the girl that tipped me off about the gambling house," he said, "and I know blamed well that she belongs to the Black Star's gang. I tried to get some information out of her just now, but she's pretty wise. We'll keep out of her sight, work independently, and trail her. She may lead us to the big crook's headquarters."
Mamie Blanchard made purchases at several departments, and then left the store. If she was aware that she was under surveillance, she did not betray it by her actions. She visited a soda fountain and ate ice cream, emerged again, and finally engaged a taxicab. Sheriff Kowen engaged another, and his deputy a third.
They trailed her to a part of the city where were to be found houses that once had been the homes of wealthy persons of social prominence. But now those of wealth and society had moved to another section, and these relics of other days were rented for various purposes. Here were to be found small shops, cheap boarding houses, palmists, clairvoyants and others of their ilk. Here and there were smaller houses back from the street, some with billboards before them.
Mamie Blanchard left her taxicab at a corner, glanced around, and walked down the street. Kowen and the deputy shadowed her. It was not difficult in this section.
Mamie Blanchard was acting as if apprehensive now. She glanced around continually. Once she stood for several minutes in front of a store window.
"On the right track!" Sheriff Kowen told himself. "She's going to that crook's headquarters, all right, and she wants to make sure she isn't being followed."
He made a sign to his deputy, and they began to approach each other. Mamie Blanchard had walked on down the street. Suddenly she darted through a little gate, and walked swiftly toward one of the smaller houses that sat back from the street.
Kowen and his deputy saw her go into the cottage.
"Go telephone for half a dozen of the men," Kowen ordered the other. "When they come, scatter them around the block, and then come back here to me. Either that house is the Black Star's headquarters, or the people there have something to do with him. I'll watch."
The deputy hurried away, and Kowen kept his eyes on the house. He supposed there was a rear door, but behind the house was a high, blank wall, and he knew that nobody could leave the place without walking directly toward him.
Kowen's heart began pounding at his ribs. If he could capture the Black Star so soon after his escape, he would be the man of the hour. He would show charity by calling in the police and Roger Verbeck, but theirs would be reflected glory, and Kowen knew it well.
The deputy returned at the end of half an hour. Men were posted behind the alley wall, he explained, and were watching the house from the buildings on either side. Nobody could get out without being seen and stopped.
"Then we'll go in," the sheriff said.
They walked boldly to the front door of the cottage, and the sheriff rang the bell. Nobody answered. Three times he rang, and yet nobody came to the door, nor could they hear the slightest sound inside the house.
"They're in there, all right; and won't answer!" Sheriff Kowen whispered to the deputy. "They have spotted us, and know that we have them cornered. I'm going to signal for the other men, and we'll break into the place. It's stretching the law a little, maybe, but I'll run the risk. This isn't like an ordinary case; we're after the Black Star, remember!"
The sheriff gave the signal, and then he and the deputy remained on guard and alert for five minutes, at the end of which time half a dozen more deputies had come from near-by buildings and joined their superior officer. Kowen explained the situation to them in a few words.
"And you want to be ready to go into action!" he concluded. "If the Black Star or any of his gang are in this house, they'll be prepared to put up a fight, and don't forget it! Watch out for those vapor guns and bombs!"
The sheriff rang the bell again, waited for several minutes, gave those inside a last chance to come to the door. But he waited in vain.
"Can't afford to waste any more time," he told his men. "We saw that Blanchard woman go in there, and, from the way she acted before she did, I'm sure this is either the big crook's headquarters or where some of his people are living. Every minute we wait out here, we give them a chance to get ready for us. Two of you men remain outside and see that nobody gets away from the place; I'll call you if we need you inside."
Kowen signaled to one of his biggest deputies. The man advanced, put his shoulder against the door, pressed against it.
"Got it bolted, I guess!" he said.
He backed away, rushed forward, struck the door again with his shoulder, and burst the door open.
Sheriff Kowen and his deputies sprawled into the little front hall of the cottage!
No volley greeted them.
There was no crash of vapor bombs, no cloud of pungent gas, no clash with desperate and determined criminals who fought on behalf of their leader and master!
There was nothing but silence—a silence broken only by the deep breathing of the sheriff and his deputies, who had sprawled into that hall expecting to meet with instant battle, and to whom the unexplained silence was more trying than combat.
Again Sheriff Kowen gave a signal, and one of the men opened the door at the end of the hall. They entered an ordinary living room that was adorned with cheap furniture; it might have been the living room of the home of a family in moderate circumstances.
They passed on to a small dining room, investigating an ordinary bedchamber. Sheriff Kowen began thinking that he had made a serious mistake.
"That woman came in here—and where is she now?" the sheriff said. "Search the rest of the house—go into the basement—don't leave a corner untouched. We're in here now, and we might as well do our work. That woman is here some place, remember that. We saw her come in, and she hasn't left."
They searched the kitchen, another small bedroom, and found nothing, neither a trace of Mamie Blanchard nor anything that would indicate that the cottage was a den of thieves. They located a trap door, and opened it, and saw a flight of steps running down into a dark basement.
"Careful!" Kowen warned his men. "They're probably down there waiting for us! We'll not all run into the trap!"
He delegated one man to remain above. He flashed his electric torch, but could see nothing except the flight of steps and the landing at the bottom. With some of the others close behind him, with his electric torch in one hand and his revolver in the other, Sheriff Kowen started to descend the steps.
Each instant they expected to hear the sound of a shot, or the explosion of a vapor bomb, or to encounter one of the traps rumor said the Black Star always had in his headquarters. Step by step they descended, but nothing happened.
They reached the landing, peered around the corner of a concrete projection. Sheriff Kowen gasped.
"Careful!" he warned again. "This is the headquarters, all right, and there doesn't seem to be anybody here—but you never can tell. Watch out for tricks and traps! Be careful what you touch and where you step. When he was after the Black Star before, Roger Verbeck found himself in a trap when he thought he was boss of the situation—don't forget that!"
The sheriff stepped to the floor, walked a couple of paces away from the steps. He saw an electric switch on the wall, hesitated a moment, and then turned it. The basement was bathed in light.
All the deputies with him were on the floor of the basement now. A chorus of gasps escaped them.
The basement was not like the rest of the house. It was furnished lavishly. In the middle was a long table. At either end was a blackboard on the wall. There were half a score of heavy chairs scattered about. There were some papers on the table.
"Watch the walls," Kowen instructed. "We've found the new headquarters, all right. We'll beat Roger Verbeck and the police this time, thank Heaven! Watch the walls—they're liable to open up and let a gang of thugs in on us any time. I'm going to look at these papers on the table."
He posted his deputies where he wished them, and advanced slowly and carefully across the floor. He was afraid the floor would open and swallow him, afraid of some clever trap that would turn victory into defeat and make him a laughingstock.
He reached the table without accident, and glanced at the papers there. There was no handwriting in sight. The papers had been printed with tiny rubber stamps. Kowen remembered that such was the Black Star's method.
He picked up the nearest and began reading. His eyes bulged and an exclamation escaped him.
"Great—great!" he muttered.
For he was holding in his hands some of the master rogue's orders to his band. Moreover, they had to do with the campaign of crime the Black Star had promised. Kowen read it swiftly:
Number Eleven reports that all is in readiness in his department. Number Four will be at his post a quarter of an hour before midnight. Number Ten will have charge of the men opening the vault. One of the watchmen is a man of ours and will attend to his companion; he is to be bound and gagged afterward by Number Eight, as we may need him again and do not want any suspicion attached to him. Automobiles will be at either end of the alley. Exit through basement door after work is done. The bags of gold are to be put in the limousine, which will be driven by Number Twenty.
Number Eleven reports that all is in readiness in his department. Number Four will be at his post a quarter of an hour before midnight. Number Ten will have charge of the men opening the vault. One of the watchmen is a man of ours and will attend to his companion; he is to be bound and gagged afterward by Number Eight, as we may need him again and do not want any suspicion attached to him. Automobiles will be at either end of the alley. Exit through basement door after work is done. The bags of gold are to be put in the limousine, which will be driven by Number Twenty.
"This is great!" Kowen told himself again. "If we only can nab the whole gang——"
He picked up another sheet of paper, and started reading that. Once more an exclamation of satisfaction escaped him.
Midnight, Tuesday. National Trust Company. Preliminary work completed. All who have received orders will act accordingly. Must be no failure in this first case. Loot will be heavy.
Midnight, Tuesday. National Trust Company. Preliminary work completed. All who have received orders will act accordingly. Must be no failure in this first case. Loot will be heavy.
"Going to tap the National Trust, is he?" Sheriff Kowen said. "Well, we'll be ready for him at midnight! He's going to run into a bunch of trouble."
The chief deputy stepped to his side. "Suppose they find out that we have located their headquarters," he said.
"Let us hope they won't find it out," replied the sheriff. "Don't touch another thing here."
"How about that woman?"
"That's the one thing that puzzles me," the sheriff admitted. "She came in here, and we didn't see her leave, and I don't see where she can be. I suppose she came to get orders, or something like that."
"You can bet that there's some other way to get out of here," the deputy told him. "You can bet that the Black Star doesn't let his gang hang around headquarters much. The way he did before was to have them show up one or two at a time, at certain intervals. He's probably issued all his orders and has quit for the day."
One of the other deputies startled them.
"Here's a little trap door—and a tunnel!" he said.
Sheriff Kowen hurried to the corner. The deputy had spoken the truth. There was a small trap door in the floor, and when it was opened the mouth of a narrow tunnel was disclosed. Sheriff Kowen issued his orders rapidly. Into the tunnel they went, flashing their electric torches, revolvers held ready for instant use.
They followed it a distance of a hundred feet—a dusty tunnel that twisted like a serpent. They came to another small door, finally managed to get it open—and stepped through the thick wall into the alley!
"So that is it!" the sheriff exclaimed. "That is how the woman got away from the house without our seeing her! Careful, now! We'll go back and see that everything is as we found it. I've got a little plan that will be a winner!"
Back they went through the tunnel. They closed the door, saw that the rugs were in place and that everything in the basement was as it should be, and went up the flight of steps.
They made sure that nothing in the house had been disturbed, went outside, and found that the front door had not been much damaged. One of the deputies locked and bolted it on the inside, then got out through a window.
"We'll hope that none of his gang has seen us around here," the sheriff explained. "I've got to let the police in on this, but we'll get the credit, all right. I haven't men enough! We'll have deputies and police scattered all around this place to-night, and we'll nab anybody that goes into this cottage, either by the front door or the alley tunnel. We'll be waiting for Mr. Black Star at the National Trust Company's place, too. The police can help, but we'll get the credit! And when we get that crook back in jail——"
Sheriff Kowen did not finish the sentence, but some of his deputies grinned. They realized that the master crook would be in for a bad hour when he was once more behind the bars. Sheriff Kowen knew how to punish prisoners who tried to escape.
"The big crook isn't as clever as he was before," the sheriff said. "I guess those few months in jail have dulled his wits. If we can catch some of those whelps that worked the game on us and got him away, I'll be highly gratified. I won't need much help when it comes to teaching them a lesson!"
Once more his deputies grinned. They walked to the corner, received fresh orders there, and scattered. Sheriff Kowen engaged a taxicab and ordered the chauffeur to take him to police headquarters with the greatest possible speed, traffic regulations notwithstanding.
He found the chief of police there, and Roger Verbeck in conference with him. Verbeck's big roadster was at the curb, and Muggs was at the wheel. Kowen grinned at him as he entered the building.
"So here you are!" the chief greeted him. "You've got a nerve to show your face after letting the Black Star get away from you!"
"Oh, I don't know!" Kowen said, smiling at them. "Have you gentlemen done anything?"
"What can we do except wait until he pulls off a stunt, and then go after him?" the chief demanded.
"Go after him first! That is what I did."
"Oh, did you?" asked the chief mildly.
"With some measure of success," said the sheriff modestly. "I have discovered the Black Star's headquarters. I have seen some orders to his gang that he left scattered around his table. I found nobody at home when I called, and have every reason to believe that the crook and his gang don't know they have been located."
"Where is the place?" Verbeck asked.
The sheriff told him.
"Possibly you are right," Verbeck said. "But the Black Star is a tricky individual, remember. And the orders are——"
"At midnight to-night," said Sheriff Kowen, trying to retain his modesty, "the Black Star's gang will try to loot the National Trust Company's vaults. Now, let's get down to business!"
Roger Verbeck and the chief looked at the sheriff aghast. His announcement had startled them. In his previous career of crime, the master criminal had raided that establishment, and had almost wrecked it because he removed so many assets.
"How do you know that, Kowen?" the chief demanded.
The sheriff told the story, not sparing himself, for he wanted to convince the men before him, and now that the recapture of the Black Star seemed so near, he could afford to speak the truth.
He related the story of Mamie Blanchard's first visit to his office, and of how he had trailed her after meeting her on the street.
"That woman," said Verbeck, after Kowen had described her carefully, "is a member of the old organization, and is known as The Princess. She caused us a lot of trouble before."
"She certainly did!" the chief admitted. "She is almost as clever as the Black Star, is trusted by him, and handles a lot of his work. We didn't get her when we caught the Black Star and smashed his old gang, and we had supposed that she had left the country—possibly had gone to South America. She came from Brazil, originally."
Then Kowen continued his story, and told of finding the papers on the table in the basement.
"That's the part of it I don't like," Verbeck said. "It isn't like the master crook to leave papers like those scattered around."
"Didn't you get into his old headquarters once and find papers and orders there?" the sheriff demanded.
"I did, I'll admit. But really I do not like the appearance of this. Describe that basement room to me again, Kowen."
The sheriff did so.
"Well, you seem to have described the room I saw last night," Roger Verbeck said. "Perhaps you are right; but I think we are assuming too much when we think the Black Star's people are not aware of the visit of you and your men there. It would be more like him to have the place watched continually."
"It all looks good to me," the chief put in. "I happen to know that the National Trust Company has a lot of gold in its vault just now—and you can bet that the Black Star knows it, too. That organization of his is a wonder. Why, my own secretary might belong to it, for all I know. We found a police captain in the old one, remember."
"Well, what are we going to do about it?" the sheriff asked.
"What have you to suggest? It's your game," the chief reminded him.
"I've got to have the help of the police, of course," Kowen replied. "I haven't men enough, and this job calls for trained men. I think we should combine forces."
"Certainly," the chief agreed.
"We ought to have a gang around the block that contains that cottage, ready to nab anybody that goes in or comes out; and we ought to be ready for the crook and his gang at the National Trust."
"How do you want to work it?" the chief asked. "Do you want to watch the cottage with your men?"
"I'll send some of my men there, and you do the same," Kowen replied. "And we'll both have men around the bank. I want to be there when the big row comes off. Let's figure it out!"
"Mr. Verbeck is in command of this, as far as I am concerned," the chief informed him.
"That suits me," the sheriff replied.
They spent an hour perfecting their plans, and then the chief began issuing his orders. Those orders went to officers in all parts of the city. They were of such a nature that the Black Star, if some confederate reported them to him, would not be exactly sure what they meant, except that the chief of police expected him to attempt some gigantic crime and would have his men in readiness.
"If you see that Blanchard woman again, put her in the jug!" the chief told the sheriff. "If you are afraid of a suit for damages, turn her over to me. I'm not! She's The Princess, and there is a little charge pending against her right now. Don't forget that."
"If I had arrested her to-day, I wouldn't have found the crook's headquarters," Kowen retorted. "But I'll nab her if I see her again, all right!"
The sheriff, well pleased with the arrangements that had been made, left police headquarters and hurried to his own office, to give orders to his own men. Kowen was exceedingly well pleased with himself. Even the chief of police, his ancient enemy, admitted that he had done the work. Kowen could see, in fancy, the newspapers of the following morning, with their glowing accounts of how, within twenty-four hours after the Black Star's escape, he had located the crook's headquarters, had learned his plans, and had captured him again and broken up his band. That should be political capital, Sheriff Kowen thought.
He reached his office, called his chief deputy, and gave him instructions. He warned the man that orders should be issued carefully so that the Black Star might not learn what was planned.
"We don't want to let that crook think we are wise to his game," Kowen said. "If he does, he'll simply move his headquarters and call off this little robbery. Then we'll have to start all over again—and I want to get that man back in a cell before to-morrow. Newspapers and public jump on me, will they? To-morrow they'll be saying how great I am!"
The chief of police had remained in his office to make further plans. Roger Verbeck left, and went out to the roadster. He ordered Muggs to drive to a certain corner across the city. That meant that Roger Verbeck had some deep thinking to do, for, when he had not, he drove the big roadster himself. So Muggs, with a thousand questions trembling on his lips, kept silent, though he looked at Verbeck reproachfully now and then.
Muggs reached the corner Verbeck had designated, and glanced around scornfully. Muggs did not favor this section of the city. It reminded him too much of certain quarters of Paris where he had existed in years gone by, when he had been a criminal.
"Wait here," Verbeck said.
"Aw, boss, ain't I in on this?" Muggs protested.
"Want to have the car tagged for being left longer than the law allows on this street?" Verbeck demanded. "If I am not back in twenty minutes, drive around the block and wait on the opposite corner—and keep that up until I do put in an appearance."
"This ain't a sweet end of town," Muggs said.
"Are you feeling a certain amount of alarm for me, Muggs? Have you an idea that I cannot take care of myself, in broad daylight?"
"Aw!" Muggs exclaimed, in huge disgust.
"You'll get plenty of action, Muggs, before this thing is over, if that is what is bothering you," Verbeck said. "What I am going to do just now calls for one man, and only one."
Verbeck walked down the street, and Muggs hunched down behind the wheel and glared at those who passed.
Verbeck turned the first corner and disappeared, as far as Muggs was concerned. He journeyed another block, turned another corner, and so approached the little cottage that Sheriff Kowen had investigated. He walked past it slowly, and glanced at the building. There was no sign of life about it.
Verbeck went on around the block and turned into the alley. He found the little door in the wall, but there appeared to be no way of opening it from the outside. He hurried on through the alley and made his way to the front again. If this was, in reality, the Black Star's headquarters, Verbeck did not want to spoil things by having some of the band see him loitering in the neighborhood.
He returned to the roadster, told Muggs to drive him home, and grinned at the look of disgust in Muggs' face.
"Ain't I in on this at all, boss?" Muggs wanted to know. "Gee! When we was after that big crook before, you let me know everything. Don't you trust me no more?"
"Certainly I trust you!" Verbeck told him. "You know that I do! But why bother you with minor details? In other words, Muggs, I am not sure of anything yet."
Reaching his rooms, Roger Verbeck spent the remainder of the day reading books, as if the Black Star and his band did not exist and call for thought. He ordered dinner earlier than usual, and then dressed in a plain dark suit, and put on a soft cap.
"Into the roadster again, old boy," he told Muggs. "Drive me to the same corner."
Muggs did so gladly; but when the corner was reached, he was disgusted once more to find that Verbeck wanted him to remain with the car.
"I don't seem to be nothin' but a chauffeur," he complained to the world at large. "I used to amount to somethin', but I guess I don't any more."
"Muggs, I told you that this is a one-man job," Verbeck said. "And I am the one man!"
He walked on down the street, chuckling at Muggs' grumbling. He passed the little cottage once more. There seemed to be no lights inside it. The yard about it was in pitch darkness, for the glare of the street lights was cut off by the high buildings on either side, by the billboards in front and the alley wall behind.
Verbeck slipped inside the yard. For a time he stood against the billboard and listened, and then he went forward like a shadow, and finally reached a corner of the cottage.
He made his way around the building, listening at doors and windows. He found a window unlatched, and raised it inch by inch, without making the slightest noise. A moment later, Roger Verbeck was inside the house.
He held his electric torch ready, and his automatic. Not a sound reached his ears to indicate the presence of any other human being in the house. Verbeck flashed the torch, located a door, passed through it, and was in the kitchen.
There he found the door leading to the basement, and listened beside it for some time. Then he opened it, slowly, cautiously, a bit at a time. There was no light in the basement.
Verbeck propped the door open with a chair, and descended the steps carefully, not flashing his torch. He reached the bottom, listened for some time, and then pressed the button. The shaft of light flashed across the room.
"Kowen was right—this is the place!" Verbeck told himself. "The furniture—everything seems to be the same. But I don't like it. It doesn't seem right, at all. I never knew the Black Star to be careless like this before."
Verbeck flashed his electric torch again and looked carefully around the room. He even walked across to the table and read the orders Sheriff Kowen had found there. The house was being watched by the police and deputies by this time, Verbeck knew, for the men had received orders to take up their positions soon after nightfall. The officers could be depended upon to capture anybody who visited the cottage.
Verbeck went back up the steps, crept through the house, and got out through the window by which he had entered, and which he now closed again. As he moved away from the house, an officer spoke to him.
"I thought that was you, Mr. Verbeck," he said. "Have you been inside?"
"Yes. There is nobody there now," Verbeck replied. "Is the door in the alley wall being watched?"
"Yes, sir," said the officer. "We've got good men scattered all around the place. If that big crook or any of his people come near here, they'll be nabbed!"
Verbeck hurried up the street and sprang into the roadster, smiling at Muggs' sour look.
"Drive to police headquarters, Muggs," he directed. "We'll stay there until a little before midnight, and then we'll go to the National Trust Company with the chief and his men, and watch for the Black Star. If he really attempts to rob that place to-night, he is going to be caught in the act."
"I'd like to get my two hands on him!" Muggs growled.
"Perhaps you'll have the chance," Verbeck said.
"If I do," Muggs said, "you can bet that the big crook will have a sore throat for a month!"
Muggs drove the powerful roadster slowly through the streets. The newsboys were crying extra editions of the evening papers, editions that had a great deal in them concerning the master crook and his intentions. Verbeck had Muggs stop, and bought the papers, and was glad to see that there was no inkling of Kowen's discovery in them.
Verbeck did not feel satisfied. Remembering the Black Star's methods, he could not convince himself that the master rogue would let himself be captured again just as he inaugurated his campaign of crime. If the National Trust Company was to be robbed, the Black Star would be there in person, unless he had changed his tactics, for previously he always had commanded his men during a big crime.
But even the greatest criminals are wrecked by trivial accidents, Verbeck knew well, and so he tried to tell himself that it was a careless woman member of the band who had betrayed the crook's headquarters and plans. Yet it was foreign to the character of The Princess, as Mamie Blanchard was called by the members of the organization, to be careless.
"Well, we'll know the truth soon!" Roger Verbeck told himself.
They reached police headquarters and went inside. The chief was waiting for them.
"Everything ready!" he announced. "We're going to land that crook quick this time! I'm taking no chances, you can bet! I'll have every available man around the National Trust Company's building. I've got some of them inside right now, and in the adjoining building, and there will be a crowd in the alley and in the streets."
"I went up and took a look at that cottage," Verbeck said.
"So that's what you were up to!" Muggs put in.
"How did it look?" the chief asked.
"Well, I can't swear to it, of course, but that basement room looked like the one where the Black Star had me last night; and the orders Kowen told us about were on the table. I didn't touch them, but I read them."
"Let us hope the crook doesn't get wise to the fact that we are on to him," said the chief.
"The chances are," said Verbeck, "that he had completed his work when Kowen and his men got inside the house, and that the Blanchard woman was the last of the band to visit there to-day. If the Black Star follows out his usual method, he'll hurry back there after he pulls off the robbery, providing we don't get him at the bank."
"And if he dodges us at the bank, the men will pick him up when he goes back to the cottage—very pretty!" the chief said. "Verbeck, I have an idea that we are going to win to-night. The rogue's good luck has deserted him, that's all."
The chief opened a box of cigars and passed it around. From time to time a sergeant came in to report about men being posted. Now and then some detective telephoned rumors and information he had gathered.
"The streets are jammed," the chief said, after one of these telephone calls. "The blamed newspapers are out with big stories of how the Black Star telephoned them that he would start his campaign of crime at midnight. Well, somebody in the mob might get hurt, but it helps us, in a way. It has been easier for us to get our men placed without some of the crook's gang reporting the fact to him."
"Oh, the chances are that he knows all about it," Verbeck said. "And he probably doesn't care. The Black Star is original, don't forget that. He'll not try to rob that trust company in any usual manner. He'll get into the building with his men in some way we do not expect, and if we're not on guard he'll get out again—with bags of gold. Did you inform the bank officials?"
"Great Scott, no!" gasped the chief. "They'd light up the place, remove the gold, give the whole thing away. We want to catch the Black Star. I'll guarantee that he'll never get away with anything there to-night. You don't seem to have much confidence, Verbeck."
"I haven't," Verbeck admitted. "I fought the Black Star before, you know. I can't make myself think that he will walk into a trap—yet everything seems to point toward it. Well, I'll be going, I guess. It is eleven o'clock now."
Muggs followed him to the curb, and this time Verbeck took the wheel when they got into the roadster. He drove through the city and toward the place where he lived, and, when he was sure that he was not being followed, he circled through the streets and approached the retail section of the city again.
Verbeck parked the roadster several blocks away from the National Trust Company. Then he and Muggs made their way through the crowd in the street, their caps pulled down over their eyes, Verbeck hoping that he would escape recognition.
They went through an alley, and stopped in the darkness just before they reached the other street. The rear of the trust company building was just opposite them.
"A quarter to twelve," Verbeck whispered. "The chief is to meet us here. The sergeants know where he is to be in case he is needed quickly."
"Why not get into the bank building?" Muggs asked. "Are we going to stay here in the alley and let a bunch of policemen do this thing? Gee, boss, ain't we goin' to handle it ourselves?"
"We'll be right on hand, Muggs, if anything starts," Verbeck promised him. "Don't worry about that!"
Five minutes later, the chief found them there.
"Now for the big drama!" the chief whispered. "Everybody is set and ready. That master criminal, as he calls himself, is due to receive the surprise of his life in a few minutes. I only hope he is on the job himself—glad to nab any of his crowd, of course, but he is the man we want in particular."
"Those orders read 'midnight,'" Verbeck said. "If he carries them out, we haven't long to wait."
"Got an idea he won't carry 'em out?" the chief asked.
"He may know that we are aware of his intention," Verbeck replied. "He isn't fool enough to walk into a trap when he knows where the trap is, you know."
The chief flashed his torch and glanced at his watch.
"Well, it's three minutes of midnight now," he said. "I wonder how he'll try it."
"He certainly will not walk up to the front door and break it down," said Verbeck, chuckling.
"I've got men in the basements of the buildings on both sides of the trust company," the chief said. "If he tries to use a tunnel, he'll find himself caught."
"He came down from the sky on one occasion," Verbeck reminded the chief.
"Look!" Muggs cried.
He had glanced up at the sky as Verbeck spoke, and now was clutching at their sleeves and asking them to look up, too. Far above the city a bright light appeared, a light that traveled in circles. It grew larger and brighter rapidly. It blazed forth like a monster searchlight, and bathed in splendor the building of the National Trust Company.
"Airplane!" Muggs gasped.
"Then he's a long way up in the air," said the chief. "An airplane makes considerable noise! It isn't an airplane!"
"Then what is it?" Verbeck asked.
"You've got me—but it isn't an airplane, or, if it is, it must be a couple of miles high. That light doesn't seem to be that high up."
The crowds in the street were yelling and shrieking now. The searchlight continued to bathe the trust company's building in brilliance. The police and deputies posted around the corner were amazed. Sheriff Kowen, on the other side of the building, ran around like an insane man, calling upon his men to do something.
The light was extinguished; and again it blazed forth, and this time it swept up and down the alley, revealing the chief and Verbeck and Muggs, and officers who had been posted there.
"The Black Star has something to do with that!" the chief said.
"And he's spotted us!" said Verbeck.
"Then we lose, for he'll not try to rob the trust company."
"Don't be too sure of that! Some of his band may be in there now, and this light, wherever it is, may be to attract our attention while other men carry away the loot."
"I've got plenty of men in the building," the chief replied, "and they'll flash a signal the moment they see anybody that doesn't belong in there. That light gets me. How high do you suppose it is?"
"It's comin' closer to the ground," said Muggs.
Once more the light was extinguished, and the crowds in the street grew silent. Again it blazed forth, and this time it was so bright and near that a man could not look into it.
Then they heard a laugh, and the well-known voice of the Black Star.
"Hello, chief! Hello, Verbeck and Muggs! Watching the trust company, are you? I'm afraid that'll not do any good!"
The chief drew his revolver and fired rapidly into the air. The Black Star's sarcastic laugh reached them, and the light was extinguished again. The sky was black; they saw nothing, heard nothing.
"What kind of a thing is this?" the chief gasped. "He wasn't more than a hundred feet above us when he spoke. What can it be? He can't be in an airplane, or we'd hear the roar of the engine!"
"And his band is probably looting the vault of the trust company right now, or has looted it!" Verbeck said.
He ran quickly across the street, and Muggs and the chief followed at his heels. They knocked on a rear door of the building, and it was opened at once.
"Everything all right?" the chief asked.
"Nothing doing yet, chief," replied the detective who had opened the door.
"We'll take a look and make sure," the chief said. "I don't like this business at all!"
They went through a corridor and found the two watchmen. They had the lights in the vault room switched on.
"That vault hasn't been touched," Verbeck said, "unless they have tunneled from beneath. The door hasn't been opened."
"That crook was wise," the chief declared. "He knew that we were here waiting for him. How he found it out is more than I can tell—some of Sheriff Kowen's carelessness, I suppose."
A detective came running toward them through the corridor.
"Chief!" he shrieked. "Sergeant just came from headquarters! He says that the Black Star's gang is looting the First National—just got the alarm!"
The forces of law and order would have been interested, that day, had they watched Mamie Blanchard continually.
When she entered the little cottage, she locked the door on the inside, hurried through the kitchen and into the basement, and entered the tunnel. She went through it quickly, reached the door in the alley wall, listened, opened it, slipped into the alley, and slammed the door shut again. That door could not be opened from the outside unless a person knew exactly how to do it.
Mamie Blanchard hurried through the alley to the street, engaged a taxicab, and drove to a certain hotel, where she ascended in the elevator and went directly to a suite. It was not the same hotel she had visited after telling Sheriff Kowen about the gambling house, but she found the same people there—a middle-aged woman and a middle-aged man.
"Well?" the man asked gruffly.
"Couldn't be better," said Mamie Blanchard.
"What happened?"
"I let him see me, and he took me to his office in the jail. Said he knew that I was a member of the Black Star's band, and threatened to put me in a cell if I didn't tell all I knew. I bluffed him, of course, and then he got the wise idea of letting me go and trailing me. You could almost see it sticking out on his forehead." Miss Blanchard stopped to laugh.
"Go on!" the man commanded.
"The sheriff and a deputy trailed me. When I got near the cottage, I began acting in a peculiar manner. I hurried inside, locked the door, and went out through the tunnel and the alley. At the corner, I saw the sheriff and his deputy still looking at the cottage."
"Well, you did your part!" the man said. "Now we'll wait to learn whether the rest of the plan worked out."
They waited for half an hour. Then the telephone rang, and the man answered. When he hung up the receiver and turned away, he was grinning.
"It worked!" he said. "Number Ten has just reported. The sheriff sent for more men, and broke into the house. They found the basement room and read the orders, and they found the tunnel, too. Number Ten reports that the sheriff has gone to police headquarters."
"And that means," said Mamie Blanchard, "that there'll be half a hundred cops around that cottage to-night, and all the rest will be at the National Trust Company."
"Exactly! And while they are at the National Trust, we'll be looting the First National. That fake headquarters did the trick—just as the big boss said it would!"
"What now, Landers?" Miss Blanchard asked.
It was the first time she had spoken his name. Like herself, Landers had been in the Black Star's old organization, and now was one of the master criminal's shrewd lieutenants. He had helped organize the new band, and had engineered the Black Star's rescue.
"I must go and report," he said. "I'll report for you, too. You'd better stay pretty close to this suite for a few days. They'll be looking for you now, you know."
"I might as well be in jail as be a prisoner here," Mamie Blanchard pouted.
"It's orders!" Landers told her. "You'll be needed again soon, and needed badly."
Landers left the hotel, engaged a taxicab, and drove out along the river road until he came to a resort. He paid the chauffeur there, and walked along the shore, watching the bathers, acting like a prosperous man on a little holiday.
But after a time he left the resort and walked on along the road. He turned into a lane, when he was sure that he was not being observed, and approached a ramshackle farmhouse that was hidden in a grove.
Landers entered the house, went down a flight of steps to the basement, and stopped in a little room. There he put on a long black robe and his black mask, and touched a button. In the distance a bell tinkled. Then a buzzer sounded, and Landers opened the door and stepped into the Black Star's headquarters.
The master rogue was sitting at one end of the table. He got up and stepped to the nearest blackboard. Landers went to the one at the other end of the room, and picked up the chalk.
"Number One," he wrote.
"Countersign?" wrote the Black Star.
"Amboy."
"Report!" the Black Star wrote.
Landers turned to the blackboard and wrote rapidly.
"Sheriff decoyed to fake headquarters. Decoy escaped in manner planned. Sheriff broke in and found room in basement. Number Ten reported to me that everything was left as it was, and that sheriff went immediately to police headquarters."
"Good," wrote the Black Star.
"Any further orders?"
"Act to-night in accordance with the orders given you yesterday," the Black Star wrote. "That is all."
Landers bowed, and backed from the room. He took off mask and gown and hung them up, put on his hat and gloves, and made his way from the house and into the lane again. Once more he was the prosperous gentleman enjoying a day in the woods and along the river.
Back in the old farmhouse, the Black Star was receiving another report, this time by telephone.
"Number Eight," said the voice.
"Countersign?" asked the Black Star.
"Harvard!"
"Well?"
"I have been in communication with Number Twelve, who is in police headquarters. Sheriff Kowen went there and held a conference with the chief and Roger Verbeck. They fell hard for that fake headquarters stunt. They are planning to watch the place to-night, and all officers not there will be in the neighborhood of the National Trust Company, where they expect us to strike."
"Very good!" the Black Star said. "You have your orders for to-night?"
"Yes, sir."
"Carry them out. There is nothing new!"
The master rogue hung up the receiver, put the telephone away in a secret niche in the wall, and sat down at the end of the long table again. A man entered with a tray containing luncheon, and the Black Star removed his mask and ate. The servant was a member of the old organization, and took part in no crimes—it was not necessary for the Black Star to wear a mask in his presence.
Having eaten, the master criminal stretched himself on a couch in one corner of the room, and slept. It was dusk when he awakened. He ate again, and as he finished the little bell on the wall jangled. The Black Star put on his mask, and touched a button.
The robed and masked man who entered was small. He went directly to the blackboard.
"Number Sixteen," he wrote.
"Countersign?"
"Providence."
"Report!"
"First National received shipment of currency to-day as expected," the other wrote.
"What amount?"
"Three hundred thousand."
"What else have you to report?"
"One of the watchmen is our man, and he will attend to the other. Number Twenty has investigated the vault, and reports that he can open it in twelve or fifteen minutes."
"How about transportation?" the Black Star wrote.
"One limousine and three closed autos; all has been arranged."
"Good!" the Black Star wrote. "That is all—except I want no mistakes made to-night."
The other man left the room. The master criminal touched a bell button, and the servant entered.
"Has the mechanic reported?" the Black Star asked.
"Yes, sir. The machine is in perfect working order, sir. He will test it further after dark."
"Very well. I want him to be ready to start about eleven thirty, perhaps a quarter of an hour sooner than that."
"Yes, sir."
The servant bowed and left the room. The Black Star took paper out of a drawer, and a box of rubber stamps, and began composing a letter that was to cause the chief of police, the sheriff and Roger Verbeck much chagrin before morning.
To those poor fools whom it most concerns:I was amused at the manner in which you guarded the little cottage so well. That fake headquarters was placed there in order to have you send all officers to the National Trust Building. I understand it fooled even Roger Verbeck. You may place all the blame on the sheriff, since he responded so well to my decoy. While you guard the National Trust, I shall be looting the First National of the shipment of currency it received to-day. It is the first blow in my campaign. And when you learn that I am looting it, and rush there, I shall——But you will know what by the time you read this note.
To those poor fools whom it most concerns:
I was amused at the manner in which you guarded the little cottage so well. That fake headquarters was placed there in order to have you send all officers to the National Trust Building. I understand it fooled even Roger Verbeck. You may place all the blame on the sheriff, since he responded so well to my decoy. While you guard the National Trust, I shall be looting the First National of the shipment of currency it received to-day. It is the first blow in my campaign. And when you learn that I am looting it, and rush there, I shall——But you will know what by the time you read this note.
The Black Star put the folded note into an envelope, and addressed it to the chief of police. Then he composed another to be mailed to a prominent newspaper.
I, the Black Star, begin my campaign to-night. Three nights from now, I and my men shall steal certain jewels and art objects that are famous. You may guess what they are, and where. Guard all jewels and objects of art in the city, if you wish, but that will not prevent us from getting them. *****
I, the Black Star, begin my campaign to-night. Three nights from now, I and my men shall steal certain jewels and art objects that are famous. You may guess what they are, and where. Guard all jewels and objects of art in the city, if you wish, but that will not prevent us from getting them. *****
The Black Star put the letter into an envelope, addressed it, and then put both letters into one of his pockets. He glanced at his watch, and took off his robe, but retained the mask. He donned a heavy ulster, and rang for the servant again.
"Tell the mechanic to be ready in ten minutes," he said.
"Yes, sir."
"After I have left the house, throw on the protecting current, and do not turn it off unless you get the proper signal."
"I understand, sir."
"The wires were tested this afternoon?"
"Yes, sir; everything is in excellent condition."
"Good!" said the Black Star.
At a quarter of twelve that night, a man walked rapidly through the alley behind the First National Bank. He knocked on the basement door of the building adjoining. The door was opened by a watchman.
"Everything's all right," the watchman reported.
"Did you attend to that other fellow?"
"He'll sleep for a couple of hours yet."
"Fine work. You are to disappear after this, of course. Go to the hiding place arranged for you, and you will be sent ample funds. You are not to attempt to leave the city until you get orders to do so. Understand?"
"Sure. I know my business, all right."
"You'd better! The boss is going to be mighty strict during this campaign of his. The man who makes a mistake or disobeys orders won't last very long. Where are the robes?"
The watchman opened a box, took out a robe, and handed it over. The other man put it on quickly, affixed the mask, and started toward a door that opened into the basement of the bank building adjoining. At the door, he turned again.
"Let the others in, and tell them that they are to hurry," he told the watchman. "They'll give the usual signal, of course. Hand them their masks and gowns."
He opened the door and hurried into the other basement, went up a flight of steps, unlocked another door, and was on the first floor of the bank.
Down in the basement, the watchman admitted other men who arrived two minutes apart, until twelve in all were in the building, and gave them robes and masks. They hurried into the other basement and up the stairs, and took up their positions.
Some guarded the stairways that led to the second floor. Others were scattered around the first floor, watching the doors and windows. Two hurried into the vault room.
The shades had been drawn at all the windows, and were fastened securely at the sides and bottoms so that no light could be seen from the outside. An electric torch was flashed on the door of the vault, and held there, and one of the men began working on the lock with tools taken from beneath his robe.
"It's a cinch!" he whispered. "The more intricate they are, the easier it is to open them. I didn't work once in a safe factory for nothing!"
Save for the rasping of tools against steel and the heavy breathing of the man who worked, there was silence in the vault room and in the rest of the building. Presently there came a sharp click, the workman gasped his satisfaction and stood up. The big door was pulled open.
Both men hurried inside the vault. They began stuffing packages of bills into canvas bags which had been in the box with the robes.
"That's all!" one of them whispered to the other. "The boss said for us not to bother with securities or any of the small stuff. We'll go!"
"We'd better, or they'll be on us in another minute," the other man replied nervously. "When you opened that door you sent in an alarm."
"And it went to a protective agency where the man on night duty is one of us," the other replied, chuckling. "He'll have to give out the alarm, of course, but by the time he gives it out, we'll be far away. What time is it now?"
"Twelve thirty."
"Just right! Send the signal to the others. The lieutenant is standing by the window at the end of the hall."
A hiss escaped the man's lips, and was carried and echoed through the building. The men gathered in the corridor, the lieutenant made sure all of them were there, and then they descended into the basement, and passed from it to the one adjoining.
"Signal for the autos," the watchman was ordered. "Then make your own get-away. And be sure you remember all that you've been told. Obey orders!"
The watchman stepped into the dark alley, and flashed an electric torch five times. A chauffeur at the mouth of the alley counted the flashes, and honked his horn. A procession of four automobiles started through the alley.
They did not stop, but merely slowed down, and into each machine sprang the men who had been assigned seats there. The automobiles continued through the alley and turned into the next street, where the chauffeurs put on speed.
There were few persons in that particular section of the city at the time, but those who were on the street saw the automobiles filled with robed and masked men. They knew what that meant—that the Black Star's band was working in the vicinity. Their terror kept them dumb until the automobiles had disappeared, and then they gave the alarm. They knew that there was but one thing in that section that would attract the master crook—and that was the vault of the old First National. The alarm went to police headquarters.
A few blocks down the street, the automobiles scattered, and one by one made their way to dark parts of the town, where the men in them took off their robes and masks, and, one by one, left the machines and darted away.
The band was scattered fifteen minutes after the vault had been looted, and one machine, a closed one, was running out along the river road toward the resort. The chauffeur drove in a leisurely manner, and the car attracted no undue attention.
At the end of the lane running to the old farmhouse, where it was pitch dark, the door of the closed car was opened, and a man sprang out. The automobile went on along the river road. The man who had jumped from it carried two canvas bags stuffed with currency. He was Landers, the Black Star's trusted lieutenant.
Landers hurried along the lane, entered the grove about the house, and took a telephone from its hiding place behind a clump of brush. He called the house, and the servant who remained on guard at the headquarters answered.
Landers gave a password, then put the telephone away and sprang to his feet. He came to the wire fence that ran around the house, but he did not touch it. He knew that it was charged with a deadly current. A light flashed in a window, and Landers opened the gate and went on to the house. He disappeared inside. His work for the night was done, except that he had to turn in the swag.
But the Black Star and his band were not done for the night. The men who had left the automobiles and scattered, immediately made their way to the National Trust Company's building, and lost themselves in the throng of people there. They bumped elbows with policemen and deputies and detectives, and grinned when they recognized one another in the crowd.
They were in time to hear the alarm given, and to see policemen spring into automobiles and hurry away. They saw Muggs drive through the crowd, and Roger Verbeck spring into the roadster and start for the First National Bank. Word flashed through the crowd that the master rogue's band was looting the First National, and the crowd melted away like snow beneath a blazing sun, hurrying toward the scene of the robbery.
One by one, and cautiously, the Black Star's men entered the alley behind the National Trust Company's building. Here, too, a basement door was opened for them by a watchman. Once more they put on masks and gowns from a supply that was in readiness, and posted their guards in the building. Once more two selected men hurried into the vault room.
They began their work on the door of the vault; and suddenly the Black Star himself appeared before them, his face masked, the flaming star of jet on the hood of his robe.
"Make it as quick as possible!" he ordered. "We don't want to be here too long. Did things go all right at the other place? Was the get-away good?"
"Everything went off as planned, sir," one of the men reported. "The work was done to the minute, and the get-away was as you had ordered, sir."
"Disguise your voice when you speak to me, you fool!" the Black Star said. "And hurry with that vault! We can't spend all night getting inside that box!"
The rasping of tools against steel, the heavy breathing of the workman told that the man was doing his best to hurry. But the vault of the National Trust Company was a complicated affair, and it was a quarter of an hour before the door finally was swung open.
"Lively, now!" the Black Star commanded. "Those bags of gold are what we want—and all we want here at this time. Get them to the rear door as soon as possible, and signal for the autos. All you men get busy!"
The masked and robed members of the band carried the heavy bags from the vault, hurried through the corridor with them, went down the stairs, and to the basement door.
The Black Star watched the work. When it was completed, he walked across the room to the nearest telephone, took down the receiver, and gave the number of police headquarters.
"Is the chief there?" he asked.
"He's here, but he's busy. What do you want with him? Who is this?" the desk sergeant demanded.
"I think he'll talk to me, all right. This is the Black Star talking."
There was an exclamation at the other end of the wire, and presently the chief spoke.
"Hello! This is the chief!"
"This is the Black Star! Did my new searchlight puzzle you a bit to-night, chief? When you know the secret you'll be more startled than puzzled. Did you wonder where my voice came from, and how I happened to be in the air just over you? Maybe you got the idea that I was putting on a ventriloquist's act."
"We'll get you, you fiend!" the chief cried angrily into the transmitter.
"Why, chief, how violent you sound! I am afraid you are working yourself into a passion."
"You got away with it this time, but you'll not do it again. And you had to lie to do it this time!"
"Indeed? How is that?"
"You used to boast of what you were going to do, and dare us to catch you at it, and you always told the truth in those days. You must be losing your nerve. You said, you crook, that you were going to rob the National Trust—and then you went after the First National."
"Oh, that was just a little job on the side!" the Black Star said. "I told you no falsehood, chief. I said that I would rob the National Trust, and that is exactly what I have done. I am speaking from the vault room of the National Trust this very minute. I have just removed several bags of gold coins!"
"What's that?" the chief cried.
"I am leaving a letter here in the vault room for you, chief, and have just mailed another to a certain newspaper. You'd better come right over here and get your letter, chief. And thanks so much for rushing all your silly policemen over to the First National when you got the alarm, so they would not bother my men here. It was very thoughtful of you!"
The Black Star laughed, and put up the receiver. He laid the letter addressed to the chief in the middle of the table, and pasted little black stars around the room on the marble. He ran to a rear window and saw three automobiles passing through the alley. In them were his men, he knew, and also the gold coin taken from the supposedly impregnable vault of the National Trust.
The Black Star laughed again, went to the stairs, and began mounting them, flight by flight, stopping now and then to laugh at a bound and gagged watchman. Presently he reached the roof by means of a trap door. He closed the door again, and fastened it securely. Then he took an electric torch from his pocket, and flashed a signal toward the sky.