The captain opened the door and motioned for the five fishermen to pass him. He conducted them to the street and across it, and passed them through the lines. They went on toward the waterfront, talking loudly, swaggering and staggering a bit, jesting, and now and then singing a snatch of song.
Four of them carried a loaf of bread each. The fifth man carried a dozen light biscuits beneath his arm.
And in those biscuits was a fortune in diamonds!
Again the morning newspapers carried full-page stories of the depredations of the Black Star and his band. Once more the police were called idiots, and demands were made that the chief resign. Sheriff Kowen was held up to scorn.
The newspapers carried another story, too—that Roger Verbeck had had a quarrel with the chief of police over the way the fight against the Black Star was being conducted, had left police headquarters with Muggs, too angry to speak to the reporters, and had declared afterward, when seen at his apartment, that he was done. Why should he perform the duties of the police and at the same time submit to the abuse of the imbecile chief, he was said to have asked? As far as he was concerned, the Black Star could loot banks and private residences and conduct himself as he pleased. Roger Verbeck might, within a few days, take himself out of the city and remain until there was some resemblance of law and order again.
The chief of police merely admitted that there had been trouble between himself and Verbeck, and said that he felt the police force capable of attending to its own affairs without any help from plain citizens, a remark that caused more than one caustic editorial.
The Black Star had sent another letter to the newspapers, and it made interesting reading. It was as follows:
To the Public: I said I would purloin famous objects of art and valuable jewels, and I have kept my word, as I always do. Some day when I have time, and it will not imperil any of my people to do so, I shall send a letter telling just how it was done.My campaign against the city has been highly successful so far, and I have no reason to believe it ever will be otherwise. The antics of the police and the sheriff and his deputies are particularly amusing to me; it would be more amusing if they were foemen worthy of my steel.I shall rest for a day, and two nights from now shall resume my campaign. For the trouble I experienced during my incarceration, the city must pay in full. I do not even care to state the nature of my next exploit, but I guarantee that it will be sensational. *****
To the Public: I said I would purloin famous objects of art and valuable jewels, and I have kept my word, as I always do. Some day when I have time, and it will not imperil any of my people to do so, I shall send a letter telling just how it was done.
My campaign against the city has been highly successful so far, and I have no reason to believe it ever will be otherwise. The antics of the police and the sheriff and his deputies are particularly amusing to me; it would be more amusing if they were foemen worthy of my steel.
I shall rest for a day, and two nights from now shall resume my campaign. For the trouble I experienced during my incarceration, the city must pay in full. I do not even care to state the nature of my next exploit, but I guarantee that it will be sensational. *****
Roger Verbeck and Muggs slept until noon that day, then had breakfast and read the newspapers. Verbeck's face glowed when he read of the quarrel between the police and himself.
"It may work, Muggs, and it may not," he said. "I fixed it up with the chief, and he certainly has done his part. The Black Star will have us watched for a few days, anyway, so we must be on our guard. But if he gets the idea that we are after him no longer, we may be able to pick up the trail."
"It's a hoodoo to work with cops!" Muggs declared. He had small respect for the police, a state of mind that was a relic of the old days when he had fought against them himself.
"Well, we'll see what we can do by working alone, Muggs. Have you anything to suggest?"
"Only that we find his headquarters, catch the crook in 'em, and give him all that's comin' to him!" Muggs said.
"That happens to be a large order, Muggs. If we can do those things, victory will perch on our banner."
"I didn't know Victory was a bird," said Muggs. "In pictures they always make her a woman."
"Muggs, that was a figure of speech—merely a manner of talking. Victory always perches on a banner, Muggs—don't forget it. I've read it a thousand times. Anything more to suggest?"
"You'd better go and see your girl," Muggs told him. "You ain't been to see her for almost a week, and she'll be gettin' peeved at you."
"I thought you hated the idea of me getting married."
"I do, but it can't be helped," Muggs retorted. "And she's some girl, at that. Besides, boss, if I drive you over there, and around town a bit, it is just possible that we might spot somebody who belonged to that crook's old gang."
"That's what I've been trying to do since he escaped, Muggs, and haven't had any luck," Verbeck said. "Get out the roadster."
"Roadster?"
"Yes; we shall not take Miss Wendell out with us. I'll visit her for a short time, and then we'll drive around town."
Muggs got out the car, and ten minutes later was driving Roger Verbeck across the city to the apartment house that was the home of Faustina Wendell, Verbeck's fiancée. Verbeck watched the people on the streets as they rode along, and Muggs did when it was possible, but they failed to see anybody for whom they were looking.
Verbeck hurried inside when the apartment house was reached, and Muggs crouched down behind the wheel, pulled his cap low over his eyes, and pretended to be half asleep. But he was scrutinizing every man and woman who passed the roadster.
Muggs was rejoicing secretly because Verbeck had elected to work independently of the police. That meant that Muggs would play a more active part in the affair, and he was as eager for a large part as an actor in a stock company. Muggs craved adventure and excitement, and the lust of combat was strong within him.
"I'd like to find the big crook!" he growled, as he watched the passers-by. "I'd like to find him with just the boss, and hand him a few and lug him off to jail and throw him in! Make fun of my boss in the newspapers, will he? The big stiff!"
Muggs glanced toward the apartment house. He supposed that Verbeck would remain there about two hours instead of a few minutes, as he did generally.
"I can't understand this love stuff!" Muggs said. "There's plenty of chances to fight without gettin' married. I suppose I'll have to keep dressed up all the time and stand in a corner after the boss gets back from his honeymoon. It's enough to make a man turn bad again! It's enough to——"
Muggs suddenly ceased speculating on marriage and the status of a valet in a family. He had spotted a man walking along the street, on the opposite side. He turned his eyes and watched him, and his heart almost stood still.
"Landers!" he gasped. "The Black Star's lieutenant—or anyway he was before. He's done somethin' to his face and hair, and he's fatter—but he's Landers. He's got a nerve paradin' the streets this way!"
This was something that Verbeck should know! But Roger Verbeck was visiting Miss Wendell, and she lived on the tenth floor, and in a rear apartment, with her mother. It would take Muggs several minutes to get inside the house and telephone up, and Verbeck several minutes to get down to the roadster. And Landers was signaling a taxicab!
Muggs darted inside the house and up to the desk.
"I'm Mr. Verbeck's chauffeur!" he said. "He's visitin' Miss Wendell. You phone up that Muggs had to hurry away—that he saw a man. He'll understand!"
Then Muggs dashed out to the street again, sprang into the roadster, started the engine, whirled the big machine around, and pursued the taxicab.
"This is tough luck!" Muggs told himself. "It's a cinch that Landers knows this car. He'll spot it in a minute, if we get out of the heavy traffic! I wish I had the boss along!"
The taxicab did not make good speed through the traffic, and Muggs remained about a third of a block behind it. After a time it turned into a cross street, and presently stopped before an exclusive hotel. Muggs swung the roadster to the curb. He saw Landers get out, pay the chauffeur, and disappear into the hotel.
Muggs was out of the car instantly, and hurrying forward. He approached the entrance, and glanced in. Landers had not stopped at the desk, but had gone directly to an elevator. That meant that he was a guest, or a frequent visitor.
When the elevator came down again, Muggs hurried over and spoke to the boy.
"The gent that just rode up with you——" he began.
"Mr. Smith?"
"Maybe his name's Smith—I don't know. I just wanted to find out where he went—got a message for him—phoned it from the office over there."
"He comes here to visit Miss Whaley and her elder sister," the boy explained. "You just ring up No. 256, and I guess you can get him."
Muggs went across the lobby and into a telephone booth. But he did not call room 256. He called Verbeck at Miss Wendell's apartment, and got him on the wire.
"I spotted Landers, boss!" he said. "I trailed him to the New Nortonia Hotel. He calls himself Smith here, and he visits a couple of women who call themselves Whaley; they're in room 256."
"Great!" Verbeck cried. "Stay there until I come over, Muggs; I'll start right away."
"Suppose he leaves before you get here, boss?"
"Then trail him, Muggs, and telephone to me as soon as you can. I'll go back home if I miss you!"
Muggs went out on the street again and got into the roadster. He moved the car a bit nearer the hotel, and then thought better of it and circled to the other side of the street. And there he remained, watching the entrance of the hotel.
Muggs knew that it would take his master some time to get there from the apartment house, and he hoped that Landers would remain in the hotel until Verbeck arrived. Muggs began speculating, too, as to the identity of the two Misses Whaley. Probably they were members of the Black Star's organization.
Muggs was doomed to disappointment. Before ten minutes had passed, he saw Landers come from the hotel and start walking up the street. Muggs wheeled the roadster, and followed slowly. Landers was on the opposite side.
"I hope he don't look this way and spot me!" Muggs growled. "He sure would remember this car. There ain't another like it in town, and he saw plenty of it when we were after the big crook before. I sure hope he don't look this way!"
It appeared that Muggs was to have his wish. Landers walked briskly down the street for three blocks, and then stepped to the curb. A big touring car was standing there, and Landers spoke to the chauffeur and sprang in. The car started down the avenue, and Muggs followed in the roadster.
The touring car cut across the city, following the boulevards and keeping away from the busy streets, and it appeared to Muggs that the chauffeur was trying to make speed. After a time it turned into the street that led to the river drive, and the speed became higher.
"Drivin' for his health, is he?" Muggs asked himself, and then answered: "Not any, he ain't. That bird's got all the health he needs. It's coin he's after—other folks' coin!"
Mile after mile Muggs followed the car ahead, now creeping up closer when there was traffic, now dropping behind so there would be no suspicion that he was deliberately following. Muggs knew that the roadster he was driving could overhaul the other car at any time. He had made a note of the other car's number, too.
Then they reached the pleasure resort, and the car ahead turned in. Muggs promptly followed.
"Must be out for his health, after all," he mused. "Maybe he's goin' to meet some more of the gang out here. It'd be a good place at that, in all this crowd."
On seeing Landers get out, he parked the roadster and followed his man. Landers walked down to the water front and watched the bathers. Muggs watched him from a corner where he could not be seen. He saw that Landers glanced around now and then, as if to search for some one, or to see whether there was an enemy near.
Then Landers began walking along the shore of the river, and presently turned into a little grove and made his way toward a road that ran through the woods.
"Now we get it!" Muggs said. "Here's where he meets some of the gang. I wish the boss was here!"
Muggs followed him cautiously through the woods, careful not to attract attention. They came to a lane, and Landers turned down it, glanced around, and then began walking faster.
Muggs remained in the woods, but followed as swiftly as he could. He managed to keep Landers in sight. After a time he saw his quarry leave the lane and plunge into the woods again, cut through them, and come out where there was a clearing and an old farmhouse in the midst of a grove of trees.
Crouching behind a clump of brush, Muggs watched Landers stoop and pick up something. The man's back was turned and Muggs could not see what he was doing. Presently he got up, walked to the gate, stood there a moment, and then opened it and passed inside. He took great care, Muggs thought, to see that the gate was closed and latched again.
The valet remained where he was for several minutes, and then crept forward under the brush until he reached the spot where he had seen Landers stoop. He felt around there—and found a telephone.
"Ha!" Muggs said to himself. "This is a funny thing to find around here. He phoned before he opened that gate, too! I've got an idea that fence ain't a pleasant thing to touch, and I ain't goin' to try it until I know. I wish the boss was here!"
He put the telephone back, crept on through the brush, and watched the house. There was nobody in sight.
"I'll bet that's the big crook's headquarters, or one of his branches where he plans things," Muggs told himself. "And I ain't man enough to tackle it alone. The thing for me to do is get back and phone the boss, and get him out here with a gang!"
Muggs started to back through the brush. He heard a step behind him, then whirled and tried to get to his feet. He found himself in the clutches of two men dressed as fishermen.
In his younger days, Muggs had enjoyed a reputation for being an excellent rough-and-tumble fighter. He still retained some of his strength and all his knowledge of how to conduct such a combat. He uttered no word, but went into action.
He kicked, struck, tried to bite and to get his thumbs into the eyes of one of his antagonists, ignoring all rules of fistic combat, striving only to be victor. But he found that he was fighting men who were used to such tactics.
Back and forth across the ground they fought and wrestled, until Muggs' breath was coming in gasps, he was seeing red, and he felt his strength going. Another fisherman crashed through the brush and threw himself into the fray—and Muggs went down from a blow to his chin.
He came back to consciousness to find two of the fishermen bending over him, one of them throwing water in his face. He struggled to get up, but they held him securely. Then he saw that he was not out of doors, but in the house.
"No more fightin' for you just now!" one of the fishermen growled at him.
"Let me up, and I'll show you!" Muggs said. "What you mean jumpin' me like you did?"
"What do you mean by snoopin' around and investigatin' things you ain't got any business investigatin'?"
"I don't remember investigatin' anything. Can't a man bum through the woods any more? Is there a law agin' it?"
"There is in this particular section of the woods," the fisherman replied. "And you needn't try to run any bluff, either. We watched you lookin' at that telephone—and we was watchin' you before that, trailin' a man."
"Yeh?" Muggs asked.
"Yeh! And now you're goin' to do a little explainin'."
"Let's see you make me!" Muggs exclaimed.
"We ain't goin' to try to make yeh. There's another man to do that. You get up and we'll tie your hands behind your back, in case you want to get violent and beat somebody up. And if you start a fight again, we'll just wallop the everlastin' face off you. Get me?"
They lifted Muggs up. He started to struggle, but was no match for them. They held him, and lashed his wrists together behind his back with fish cord. Then they thrust him along a narrow hall and to a door.
One of them pressed a button, and Muggs heard a bell tinkle. Then a buzzer sounded.
"In you go!" one of the fishermen said.
They opened the door and thrust him forward, and he heard the door slammed behind him. Muggs blinked his eyes rapidly, for the hall had been half dark, and the apartment in which he now stood was lighted brilliantly.
He saw a room with expensive furnishings. A long table was in the middle of it, heavy chairs were scattered around, and before him was a man dressed in a black robe, with a black mask on his face, and a flaming star of jet on his hood.
"Greetings, my dear Muggs!" the Black Star said. "I regret it if some of my men handled you roughly, but then you are inclined to violence yourself."
"You—you——" Muggs gasped.
"Be seated, Muggs. You must be fatigued after your recent exertions. I understand that you put up a good fight."
"I'll put up a better one if I ever get a chance at you!" Muggs growled. "I'll show you how to make fun of my boss in the newspapers! Youbigcrook!"
"That is not an insult, my dear Muggs, but a compliment. I flatter myself that I am a big crook. Please sit down."
Muggs complied. He was still weak from the fight, and he felt that he wanted to gather what strength he could, for use in case an opportunity presented itself.
"I understand that you followed a certain member of my organization," the Black Star went on. "I have rebuked him for his carelessness. Since you have discovered my location, I cannot allow you your freedom, of course, and have you bring the police down upon me. I make it a point, as perhaps you learned before, to change my headquarters now and then. But I am very comfortable and safe here, and have no intention of moving for some time. So you are to be my guest, Muggs, until I do decide to move."
"That's whatyousay!" Muggs exclaimed.
"I scarcely think you'll escape, Muggs, if that is what is in your mind. And, if you behave yourself, I may show you some very interesting things. I shall feed you well, Muggs, and give you plenty of cigarettes. What more can man desire? I do this because I admire your loyalty to your employer. Perhaps, if I keep you prisoner, and so inform him, he will exert himself and add spice to our little game. Mr. Verbeck hasn't betrayed any great amount of cleverness recently, you know."
"Is that so?" Muggs retorted. "He could, if he wanted to, I guess! It looks as if you don't read the newspapers. My boss ain't in the game any more. He and the chief had a scrap!"
"Oh, my dear Muggs! Give me credit for having some intelligence, and some clever people in my organization. I happen to know that it is all a trick—and not a very clever trick at that. I know the arrangement he made with the chief. Thought I'd take my eyes off him, didn't he? Utter rot!"
"I tell you he had a scrap——"
"If that is so—if Verbeck is no longer trying to capture me—why do you betray so much interest in my affairs?" the Black Star demanded. "Why did you follow my man to-day? Why did you trail him through the woods? Muggs, your story is weak."
Muggs saw that it was, but he wasn't willing to admit it.
"I didn't say I had quit, did I?" he asked. "Maybe I'm after you on my own hook. There's a fat reward up, ain't there?"
"That's not at all clever, Muggs. But we need talk along this line no more. We understand each other, Muggs. You are my enforced guest for a time, and I trust that you'll appreciate my hospitality. If you start causing trouble, I shall be forced to descend to means I abhor—and use violence!"
"You untie my hands and take off that fool robe, and I'll give you all the violence you want!" Muggs cried. "Maybe I can't fight half a dozen thugs of your gang, but I can handle you, all right, without any help!"
"I fear that I must refuse to accept the challenge, Muggs. I have work to do, and it would be delayed if you happened to lay me up for a few days. Perhaps, some other time——"
"Yellow streak!" Muggs taunted.
"Take care!" the Black Star thundered angrily. "You may go too far, my man!"
"Don't you 'my man' me! Even my boss don't do that, and no crook's goin' to! Not on your life!"
"Then do not make me lose my temper," the Black Star said. "Go over to that couch and make yourself comfortable, Muggs. You may see and hear some interesting things. Since you are to be my guest for some time, until a certain thing is accomplished, I do not care how much you learn. I have an idea that some of my people are about to report."
Muggs, a sudden gleam in his eye, got up and went over to the couch. It was like the Black Star to let him overhear orders and commands; and there always was a chance that he could escape and give the alarm. He needed rest now to gather his strength. He would wait, learn all that he could, catch the Black Star off guard as soon as possible, and effect an escape.
The Black Star watched him closely as he sat down on the couch and tried to make himself comfortable, which was a difficult thing for him to do with his wrists lashed behind his back.
"Muggs," he said, "where did you pick up Landers?"
"What you talkin' about?"
"You know very well. You followed Landers out here, and some of my men saw you trailing him, saw you find the telephone. You know Landers well, for he was one of my old organization and escaped when Verbeck caught me and scattered my men."
"What difference does it make?" Muggs asked. "I picked him up, didn't I?"
"I give you credit for it, Muggs. But just where did you pick him up? If any of my men are careless, I want to know it. Was it Landers' carelessness or your cleverness?"
"I saw the big stiff walkin' along the street and gettin' into an auto, and trailed him," Muggs said.
"Very good!" replied the Black Star.
Muggs felt sure that there was a note of keen satisfaction in the Black Star's speech, and he guessed the reason for it. The master crook thought Muggs meant that he had seen Landers getting into the touring car. He was worrying for fear Muggs knew of his visit to the hotel.
"Some more of the gang there—them Whaley women!" Muggs told himself.
A bell on the wall tinkled, and the Black Star hurried to one end of the room and pressed a button.
"I must ask you to remain perfectly quiet, Muggs," he warned. "You may see all you like, since you'll never be able to give out the information soon enough to hurt my plans, but you must not speak when any of my people are in the room. Be good, Muggs, and I'll have your hands untied after a while."
The door at the other end of the room was opened, and a robed and masked man came in and went to the blackboard. He regarded Muggs carefully, but the Black Star motioned for him to proceed.
"Number Two," he wrote.
"Countersign?"
"Bennington."
"Report," wrote the Black Star, and as Muggs watched they held their conversation on the blackboards, writing and erasing, neither speaking a word.
"Invitation list includes all prominent and wealthy persons in the city and some from out of town," wrote Number Two.
"Date remains the same?"
"Yes; to-morrow night."
"How about detectives?"
"Four—two men and two women—from the usual agency. We cannot handle any of them by the customary means, but they will not be hard to get out of the way."
"Make arrangements for doing so," wrote the Black Star. "If you need help, ask for it to-morrow morning. What arrangements have been made about refreshments?"
"A caterer is to serve them. Two of the waiters are our men."
"Good! Anything special regarding possible loot?"
"Since it is such an affair, all the women are likely to wear their most expensive jewels," wrote Number Two. "Social rivalry that exists at present will tend toward this."
"That is all for the present. Retire!"
Number Two erased what was written, bowed, and backed through the door. The Black Star glanced at a little clock that stood on the table before him.
"I have a few minutes before the next man reports, Muggs," he said, "and so I'll be glad to explain in part. I presume you have heard of our fair city's society leader, Mrs. Richard Branniton?"
"Sure!" said Muggs.
"She is giving quite an affair to-morrow evening at her palatial residence, Muggs. Her husband, if you happen to remember, was the district attorney who prosecuted me when I was on trial recently. At this reception and ball, she is to entertain two prominent diplomats who are visiting in the city. The cream of the city's wealth and society will be present, Muggs. It will be some party!"
"Well, what about it? I ain't invited," Muggs growled.
"You may be a guest at that, Muggs; I may take you with me."
"Oh! You're invited, are you?" Muggs asked sarcastically.
"No; but I am going. It isn't quite the thing to go to an affair to which you have received no invitation, yet I intend doing it, Muggs. There are times when I am not strictly conventional, as you may have guessed. I am going, Muggs—and I am going to take about twenty or thirty of my best men with me."
"It'll sure be some party, then!"
"There will be a few exciting moments, I doubt not. You see, Muggs, the ladies will wear fortunes in jewels—and I love jewels. Besides, they are worth money when properly marketed. I shall strip Mrs. Richard Branniton's guests of their precious jewels. This will injure that lady socially to a certain extent, and thereby hurt Mr. Branniton, who was quite nasty at the time of my trial."
"He wasn't nasty enough!"
"Oh, well, you are prejudiced, Muggs. And the jewels are not all, Muggs. We are going to abduct those two famous diplomats and hold them for ransom. Is not that a master stroke? I certainly am a big crook, am I not?"
"You can't get away with it!" Muggs said.
"Nonsense! We have a place prepared to which we shall take them. We have a method of collecting the ransom when it is paid—a safe method. And it will be paid, Muggs—two hundred thousand dollars for each man. You see, they are here on international business, and very important business at that. It will be necessary to secure their release at once. If it is not accomplished, there might be trouble with a certain other country. Oh, we have it all planned, Muggs, and the job will not be so difficult as others I have handled."
"You go to monkeyin' with the government, and you'll get yours good and plenty!" Muggs warned him.
"I fear no government, Muggs! I tell you, our plans are perfect. The ransom will be paid within three days."
The Black Star went to the table, opened a drawer, and consulted a memorandum book. Again the little bell on the wall tinkled. Once more the Black Star pressed a button and a robed and masked man entered and stepped up to the blackboard.
"Number Four," he wrote.
"Countersign?"
"Delaware."
"Report," wrote the Black Star.
"Lord Sambery and Sir Burton Banks will arrive to-morrow morning at ten o'clock and be taken at once to the Branniton residence. They will have luncheon there, and then be taken for a drive through the city."
"How many will be in the party?"
"Just the luncheon party—perhaps fifteen."
"What else?" the Black Star wrote.
"Diplomats will return to the Branniton residence and remain for the reception. Arrangements you ordered have been made."
"Good!" the Black Star wrote. "Report at usual time to-morrow for additional orders. Retire!"
The man bowed and backed through the door. The Black Star turned toward Muggs again.
"Oh, it is a wonderful organization, my dear Muggs!" he said. "It is far more wonderful than the one I had before."
"I ain't carin' much about it!" Muggs said. "These blamed cords are cuttin' my wrists, and my nose itches and I can't scratch it!"
"Suppose I untie you?"
"You'd better watch me, if you do."
"Ah! That is what I thought," the master crook said. "You retain your violent nature, I see. One of these days you will realize the futility of it, Muggs."
"I'll realize my life ambition by beatin' you up!" Muggs replied. "You goin' to take off these cords?"
"Not that. But I'll have your wrists tied in front, so you will be able to scratch your nose," said the Black Star, chuckling.
He opened the hall door and called two of the fishermen into the room. For some reason, it appeared, the fishermen did not wear robes and masks before the Black Star, and evidently did not care that Muggs saw their faces.
The master rogue issued his orders, and the two men untied Muggs' wrists, lashed them again in front of him, and then hurried away.
"Now you may scratch your nose," the Black Star said. "I suppose you'll be trying to free yourself, too. Allow me to tell you, Muggs, that you'd not get very far if you did."
"I noticed Landers wait until the current was turned off that fence," Muggs said.
"Ah! You know about that, do you? But that is only one thing among many, my dear Muggs. I'd advise you to be a contented prisoner for the time being. You'll gain nothing by trying to escape."
"Well, how long are you goin' to keep me here?"
"Until I move to my next headquarters, I said."
"And when'll that be?"
"In two weeks possibly. Until then, Muggs, you must be one of us. When I move, I'll have you dropped somewhere in town, and you can tell Verbeck and the newspapers all you saw and heard. You'll be getting your picture on the front page, Muggs."
Again the bell tinkled, and once more a robed and masked man entered and stepped to the blackboard. He gave his number and countersign.
"Report," wrote the Black Star.
"It is as you thought—Verbeck is still after us."
"Anything more about Verbeck?"
"He visited his fiancée this afternoon, and afterward took a taxi and got out at a busy corner. He remained there for some time, and then went home. He acted as if he was waiting for somebody."
"Anything else?"
"Verbeck's roadster is at the resort down the river, and has been there for several hours. We didn't see Verbeck."
"His chauffeur left it there; that is his chauffeur on the couch," the Black Star wrote.
The man at the other blackboard turned and regarded Muggs through the slits in his mask. Muggs knew what that meant. Here was a man who was not acquainted with him, but hereafter he would know Roger Verbeck's chauffeur when he saw him.
"Anything else?" the Black Star wrote again.
"Sheriff Kowen is swearing in more deputies, and some of them are experienced officers who have retired."
"Anything from police headquarters?"
"Nothing, sir, except that the chief is keeping in communication with Verbeck through some third person. We have not located this person yet."
"Do so as soon as possible, and let me know the result over the telephone," the Black Star wrote. "That is all!"
The masked man bowed and backed through the door. Once more the master crook faced Muggs.
"You see, my dear Muggs, I find out everything," he said. "I could tell you what Roger Verbeck had to eat at breakfast this morning. How can a man like Verbeck expect to win against an organization such as mine?"
"He'll win, all right!" Muggs growled. "He'll get you before he quits!"
Having received Muggs' startling telephone message that he was trailing Landers, the master crook's trusted lieutenant, Roger Verbeck left his fiancée, hurried from the apartment house, engaged a taxicab, and had the chauffeur drive him to the New Nortonia Hotel as quickly as possible.
He got out of the cab half a block away from the hotel entrance, and looked around for the roadster and Muggs, but failed to find them. Verbeck's enthusiasm began to die instantly. He had hoped to find Muggs still there, to join him, possibly to follow Landers until he met more of the gang.
For half an hour Verbeck loitered around the corner, and then he decided that Muggs had been forced to go on alone, that Landers had left the hotel and Muggs had been afraid to remain behind, lest he lose his man. So Verbeck went home to await another telephone message, as he had told Muggs he would do.
At the end of an hour, he had received no message. He paced the floor, consumed several cigarettes, and began worrying a bit about it. That Muggs was the sort of man to rush into trouble, Verbeck knew well. Muggs was inclined to fight first and think about things afterward. If Muggs had located Landers, and Landers did not know it, there were several possibilities.
Muggs might have followed the Black Star's lieutenant to the master crook's headquarters, or been decoyed to some other place and made prisoner. It was the silence of Muggs that bothered Roger Verbeck. Surely he could have managed to get to a telephone within an hour, Verbeck thought.
Verbeck waited for another hour, and still had received no message from Muggs. He called a certain number himself, and spoke at length to the man who answered him, and who would relay the message to the chief of police by word of mouth.
"Muggs spotted one of the Black Star's men and started to follow him," Verbeck said. "He hasn't reported to me since. Tell the chief to have all the men on the force look for my roadster, as Muggs was driving it. Muggs may need help. And wherever that roadster is found, some of the Black Star's men may be in the neighborhood. Understand? Possibly Muggs has not had a chance to communicate with me. He may be a prisoner."
Roger Verbeck continued to pace the floor of his living room and wait. Half an hour afterward his telephone bell rang, and he hastened to answer, hoping that the call was from Muggs, and that it would lead to the apprehension of the Black Star or some of his people.
"Mr. Verbeck?" asked a voice.
"Yes."
"Good afternoon. I trust that you are in excellent health. This is the Black Star speaking!"
"Well, what do you want?" Verbeck growled.
"Aren't you rather discourteous this afternoon? I have important news for you, too. Your man, Muggs is making me an extended visit at my headquarters. That is what I wished to let you know. He followed a member of my band, and stumbled upon the place. Some more of my men subdued him. I must keep him here now, of course, but I shall take good care of him, I assure you."
"You'd better!" Verbeck said.
"And your splendid roadster, Mr. Verbeck—Muggs was driving it, as you know. I have had one of my men take it downtown and leave it in front of the public library. You'd better hurry there and get it, or you'll be fined for leaving it standing in the street so long. I couldn't leave it where Muggs deserted it, you know; that might have given a clew to my whereabouts."
Then the Black Star terminated the conversation abruptly, and Roger Verbeck slammed the receiver into its hook. Verbeck had hoped that the discovery of his roadster would put the police and himself on the right trail.
Once more Verbeck called the go-between, and had the chief of police informed of his conversation with the Black Star. Then he called the office of the sheriff.
"That you, Kowen?" he asked. "This is Roger Verbeck. It has been given out, as you know, that I am no longer working with the police, and I am not certain whether the Black Star believes it, or not, though I scarcely think that he does. So I don't want to call on the police for help just now. I wish you'd hurry right up here to my place, Kowen. I've got an important clew. And have one of your men go to the corner by the New Nortonia Hotel and wait there for us, will you? We may need him."
"I'll send a good man there, and I'll be with you in fifteen minutes!" Kowen declared.
The sheriff was as good as his word. A quarter of an hour later he was sitting before the table in Verbeck's living room, puffing at a cigar Verbeck had given him.
"Well, Verbeck, what's the idea?" he wanted to know. "If you've got a clew to that crook's whereabouts, for Heaven's sake let's get busy on it. If we don't land him pretty quick, the dear public will be running us out of town."
"I visited my fiancée this afternoon," Verbeck said, "and left Muggs sitting in the roadster. A few minutes later, the clerk in the apartment house telephoned up to me that Muggs had said to tell me he had seen a man, and would call me later.
"I knew what that meant, of course. We had been watching continually for some of the Black Star's old people. So I waited eagerly for his message, and finally it came. The man he had been trailing was Landers, one of the Black Star's trusted lieutenants. Muggs said he had gone to the New Nortonia Hotel, and was visiting a couple of women named Whaley, who had room 256 there."
"Some clew!" said the sheriff.
"Wait! I told Muggs I'd be right over, but that if Landers left the hotel to follow him and call me at home later. When I got over there, Muggs was gone. I came home, and waited a couple of hours, but got no message from him. Finally the Black Star called me up. He said he had Muggs at his headquarters and would keep him a prisoner for a time. Muggs stumbled into some sort of a trap, it seems. We don't know where the crook's headquarters are, of course. But I'm inclined to investigate room 256, at the New Nortonia Hotel, sheriff. What do you think about it?"
"I should say we will investigate it!" Kowen declared. "If the Black Star's lieutenant visits the people in that room, I want to know who those people are."
"Muggs said they were two sisters named Whaley. That means nothing, of course. They probably belong to the Black Star's gang. They may be important, or they may be merely mediums through whom members of the band receive messages and orders from one another. Now, we want to go about this thing carefully, sheriff. We ought to investigate, but we don't care to have them know of it until we learn all there is to be learned."
"I get the idea," the sheriff agreed. "Let's go!"
"We'll wait until after dark—which will not be more than a couple of hours," Verbeck said. "I'll have some dinner sent up here, and that will help kill the time. I visit that hotel now and then myself—have a bachelor friend who lives there. So the clerk and elevator boy will think nothing of it if we go right up without being announced. You leave the little details for me, Kowen. All I want is your official support—and your good right arm, of course, in case we get into a bit of trouble."
"You can have 'em both!" the sheriff said.
Verbeck ordered the dinner, and the sheriff indulged in a moment of luxury. Never before had he smoked such cigars or eaten such food. Being a young man of fortune was a good thing, Kowen decided. He didn't see why Roger Verbeck should go around trying to round up a master crook when he was so comfortable at home.
Night descended, and they left the apartment and the building by means of a rear stairs. Verbeck explained that it was probable that the Black Star had somebody watching the place.
"We don't want them to think we know anything about that hotel," he said. "We may lose our chance to nab some of them if they get an idea we are on the right trail."
They walked through back streets, keeping in the shadows as much as possible, and finally reached the hostelry. There, of course, they had to enter boldly. Verbeck nodded to the clerk and hurried to the elevator with the sheriff at his heels. They ascended to the fourth floor, where Verbeck's friend, Lawrence, lived.
"We're here on business connected with a gentleman known to fame as the Black Star, Lawrence," Verbeck said, finding his friend in his suite.
"Good Lord! Think I'm a member of his gang?" Lawrence asked.
"Scarcely, or we'd not be taking you into our confidence," Verbeck replied. "Be a good boy, now, and help us, will you?"
"Surely! That big crook nipped my aunt's diamonds the last time he was on a rampage, and she never got them back. Just give me a chance at him. Those stones were to have been mine some day."
"In that case, you probably want revenge," said Verbeck, laughing. "Now, answer a few questions. You've lived here for three or four years and should know something about the place."
"I know all about it," Lawrence said.
"Where is room 256?"
"Ah! I had that room when I first came here, before I could get a suite. It's on the second floor, directly beneath us a couple of stories, with a fire escape running past its principal window."
"Of course there would be a fire escape," said Verbeck. "There are times when fire escapes are handy things. Lawrence, do you know the people who have that room now? I understand a couple of sisters live there—Whaley by name."
"I've seen one of them many times—sour-looking old girl about forty. Freeze you with a glance, and all that sort of thing—one of those women a man always dodges."
"Sure she is about forty?"
"Great Scott, don't I know the sex? Can't I guess a woman's age nine times out of ten? Aren't half the girls in town mad at me now because I always insist on doing it, and telling the truth about my guesses? She's forty, and she's fat—not plump, but fat—and she always looks as if she was ready to bite."
"Well, that description doesn't mean anything in my young life," Verbeck said. "I had hoped for something different. How about the other sister?"
"I've glanced at her a couple of times, but I haven't seen her at all recently. Maybe she's ill."
"What does she look like—that's what I want to know."
"Um!" said Lawrence. "Grace of a gazelle, my boy. Would have made advances, my boy, if the other hadn't frozen me with a glance."
"Hair?"
"Auburn—distinct auburn, the shade I most prefer—and plenty of it. Eyes, a sort of gray—don't know exactly what you'd call 'em. And the girl can wear clothes. There's a subtle perfume about her, my boy——"
"And you only glanced at her a couple of times, eh? How old do you say she is?" Verbeck asked.
"Thirty," Lawrence replied. "Five feet six; weighs about a hundred and twenty-five, has magnificent shoulders——"
"I knew it!" Verbeck cried.
"Can you place her?" Kowen asked.
"It is only a guess, of course," said Verbeck. "But I think I know who she is. And I'm sure you'd be interested in meeting her, Kowen. You'll take such a fancy to her that you'll probably want to take her to jail and put her into a cage. Kowen, is that man of yours at the corner, do you suppose?"
"If he isn't, he'll be fired pretty quick!"
"Go out and find him, and plant him beneath that fire escape. Tell him to nab anybody, man or woman, who tries to go down it. A person can go down that escape to the parlor on the first floor, you know, step through a window there, and walk out the front door of the hotel. Then you hurry right back here, Kowen."
The sheriff grasped his hat and hurried from the suite. Verbeck lighted a cigarette, looking toward the ceiling and smiled.
"I say, what is this all about?" Lawrence demanded. "Let me in on it, will you? I haven't had a bit of excitement for ages. I'm getting stale, man."
"Callow youths such as yourself should not run into danger," Verbeck explained.
"Confound it, I'm no callow youth. I'm only three years younger than you."
"But I have had experience, Lawrence. Restrain yourself for a few minutes, and you may see some excitement. But don't ask questions at the present time. I hate answering questions. We must wait until the sheriff comes back."
Sheriff Kowen located his deputy instantly, and gave the man his orders. Then the sheriff showed that there was real stuff in him. He did not turn around and reënter the hotel by the main door. It had occurred to him that, if any of the Black Star's men were on watch, they might get suspicious if they saw him around the place too much.
Kowen walked down the street, entered a cigar store, made a purchase, and sauntered on around the block. He darted into the alley and reached the rear of the hotel building, and went in at the servants' entrance when he was sure that he was not being observed.
He exhibited his badge to the first man he met, and was shown how to reach the rear stairs. By this means he mounted to the fourth floor and so reached Lawrence's suite again.
"My man's ready," he reported to Verbeck. "If anybody gets down that fire escape and away, it'll be peculiar. That man can handle bad ones as easily as others handle infants."
"What are you going to do?" Lawrence inquired.
"The sheriff and I are going to investigate room 256 and the inhabitants thereof," Verbeck replied. "We are going to walk up to the door and knock. If we find, when the door is opened, that we have made a mistake, we shall apologize and say something about knocking at the wrong door. If we find that we have not made a mistake, there probably will be fireworks."
"I always did like fireworks," Lawrence said. "Do I get to see these?"
"You may look from your window all you please," Verbeck said. "But we can't have you with us just now. There may be nothing in this, and there may be a lot. Ready, sheriff?"
"You know it!" the sheriff answered.
"Allow me to suggest that you put your revolver in your coat pocket, and put your hand in the same pocket and grasp the revolver. Don't show the weapon, of course, until we are sure that we are right. We don't want to frighten innocent persons, if it can be avoided."
"Who do you think is in that room, Verbeck?" Kowen asked.
"Let us see!" Verbeck replied.
Ignoring Lawrence's demand that he be allowed to accompany them, they left the suite and walked slowly down the stairs. They reached the second floor, and went along the hall until they reached No. 256. There they stopped, listened. They could hear somebody talking inside.
Verbeck knocked smartly and then stepped close to the door, the sheriff at his side. The voices within were stilled, but nobody answered. Verbeck knocked again, and suddenly the door was thrown open.
Sheriff Kowen gasped, and his revolver was whipped from his pocket. Roger Verbeck merely chuckled. The woman who had opened the door gave a little screech and tried to close it again, but Verbeck's foot prevented. They thrust her back, stepped inside, and closed the door behind them.
"Good evening, Miss Blanchard!" said Sheriff Kowen. "I tell the truth when I say that I am delighted to see you!"
"And it is some time since I have had the pleasure of greeting The Princess," Verbeck added. "Pardon the peculiar manner of this call, but we felt that it was necessary."
The face of the woman before them had gone white, and now it flushed. She stepped backward into the room as they advanced. Sitting near the window was another woman—fat and forty—and she sprang to her feet.
"What is the meaning of this intrusion?" she cried. "I shall call the office——"
"Calm yourself, madam!" Verbeck told her. "I have not the pleasure of your acquaintance, but I find you in bad company, and that is sufficient."
"Yes, and I've got a couple of dandy cells down at the county jail!" the sheriff said. "They're all cleaned and waiting for you. Hot and cold water, and eats three times a day. I've stopped raiding gambling dens for the moment and am taking up another line of work."
He glared at Mamie Blanchard, who was standing close to the table and glaring back at him.
"Sit down, Miss Blanchard!" Verbeck said. "We are going to have a short conversation. And kindly do not attempt any foolish move. I dislike to fight a woman, but at times it seems to be necessary."
Mamie Blanchard sat down. Verbeck could tell, by glancing at her face, that she had regained her composure—that she was clever, dangerous, a woman to be watched closely.
"Well, what is it?" she demanded.
"I don't suppose you'll do as I ask, but I am going to give you a chance," Verbeck said. "I want some information about the Black Star."
"I don't know anything about him. I was in his old gang, as you are aware. I supposed you had come to arrest me for that. He didn't see fit to include me in his new organization, because you knew me, I suppose."
"That statement is not at all clever of you," said Verbeck. "You are talking to men who know better. You helped engineer his escape, didn't you?"
"Since you know, I did. That is, I got the sheriff to raid the gambling house, and decoyed him to the little cottage. The Black Star gave me that much to do because I needed money. But that is all."
"You mean your work for him is done?" Verbeck asked.
"Yes."
"You're not in touch with him any more?"
"No."
"Um! And yet Landers, his trusted lieutenant, is a frequent visitor here."
"Perhaps that is for personal reasons," said Mamie Blanchard. "We saw each other a great deal when we were in the old gang, and we are—well, interested in each other to a certain extent."
"I wish that I could believe your story of a fond romance, but I am afraid that I cannot," Verbeck said. "Let us put the cards on the table. You know, Miss Blanchard, that it is only a question of time when the Black Star will be recaptured and his band scattered or sent to jail. It will go easier with you personally if you give me the information I desire; and please do not waste time and breath by saying that you do not know. Where is the Black Star's headquarters?"
"I don't know—and that is the truth."
"Possibly it is the truth, but you report to him through somebody. I suppose it is Landers, since he calls here so much. When will Landers be here again?"
"I don't know."
"What do you know about the Black Star's plans for the future?"
"I don't know anything about them," said Mamie Blanchard.
"She knows, all right, but she'll not talk," the sheriff declared. "Might as well haul them both to jail, I guess. There's an old charge against this Blanchard woman, and we can hold the other on suspicion while we make an investigation."
"You dare take me to jail!" shouted the fat-and-forty lady.
"Tut, tut!" said Sheriff Kowen.
The sheriff did not take his eyes off Mamie Blanchard. He was aware that she was clever, and he was watching for her to make some move. He watched her hands particularly.
Verbeck bent forward in his chair again. "It will be a great deal better for you to talk," he cautioned.
"I've said all that I am going to say!" Mamie Blanchard declared. "If you want to take me to jail, take me! The Black Star will get me out, and he'll take pay from the city because I was arrested!"
"You think you can bluff me with a speech like that?" Kowen demanded. "Not in the least, young woman! You do not seem to appreciate what you are facing."
"And you," she said, "do not seem to appreciate what is behind you at this moment!"
"Trying to get me to turn around, so you can make some sort of a move, are you?" the sheriff asked. "That's old stuff—telling a man to look behind him."
"There is something behind you, all right," she said.
A man's voice greeted them from the rear.
"I've got both of you covered! Drop that gun, sheriff!"
Both the sheriff and Verbeck suddenly felt something pressing against the backs of their necks. Each knew what it was—the muzzle of a weapon.
"Drop it!" said the voice again.
The sheriff dropped his gun. He knew it was the only thing to do when another man had the drop on him.
"Sit still! Don't turn around!" said the voice again.
Suddenly the air about the two men was filled with pungent fumes. Their heads dropped forward. Once more a vapor gun had done its work, and done it instantly and well.
Roger Verbeck and Sheriff Kowen returned to consciousness to find that they were bound and gagged and lashed to chairs placed against the wall. The two women were still in the room. Landers was there, too.
"You fail again, Verbeck," he said. "You must be losing your cleverness, as the Black Star says. You enter a room as you entered this, and sit down and turn your back upon a closet without examining it first. It was very easy to overcome you after that. I didn't look for any brains in the sheriff, of course, but I did in you.
"The question now is what to do with you. We have been discussing it while you were unconscious. Had I my way, you'd be put where you'd bother us no longer, but the Black Star will not countenance that sort of violence. He is tender-hearted in some things, as you know.
"It appears that you have discovered our little retreat here, and so we cannot remain. These ladies will have to go out with me, without even taking their clothes and toilet articles, and not return. It is a nuisance to find another hiding place, but there are plenty of them in the city. We shall have to leave you here, of course. I promise to telephone the hotel later, and have you released.
"Thought you'd get some information, did you? Let me tell you, Roger Verbeck, that you'll never catch the Black Star this time. And he'll strip the city before he is through. He has planned something for to-morrow night that will not only startle the city, but the entire country as well. There is not a chance in the world of you or the police or the sheriff's force preventing it—or doing anything after it has been accomplished."
Landers motioned to the women, and they went to the closet for hats and cloaks.
"I don't see the sense of leaving everything," Mamie Blanchard said. "We can say at the office that I am going away for a few days, but that my sister will remain. They'll think that you are merely taking me to the train. At least, I can take a bag. I can put a lot of things in that."
"Very well; perhaps that would be best," Landers agreed. "Take your time, my dear. There is no need to rush things. We are not likely to be disturbed here. You'd better put on a heavy veil, too. There may be a deputy or two around the hotel, and some of them might recognize you. I'll telephone for a taxi just before we go down."
The two women began packing the bag, while Landers turned his back on his prisoners, went to the window and looked down at the street.
Verbeck and the sheriff glanced at each other helplessly. There was small chance that they would be able to trail Landers and the women if they got away now; and after this they would keep in hiding better. It appeared that the Black Star's good luck was with him yet.
Verbeck tugged at his bonds, but knew instantly that there was small hope of freeing himself. If he did, Landers held the advantage. But it was Verbeck's idea that he could get free at least soon after the others left the room, and make an effort to trace them.
Landers turned away from the window.
"Verbeck, your man trailed me this afternoon," he said. "He saw me come into this hotel, I suppose, and found out what room I visited. He's out at the Black Star's headquarters now, a pampered guest; but when I get a chance, I'm going to give him what's coming to him. He was the cause of my getting a rebuke from the Black Star."
"I wish you'd rap that sheriff on the head," Mamie Blanchard remarked. "He's a nuisance!"
"The Black Star will not stand for work like that, and you know it," Landers replied. "Besides, the sheriff is harmless; we have little to fear from him."
Sheriff Kowen's face grew purple with wrath, and he gurgled behind his gag.
Mamie Blanchard was packing the bag, and her stout companion was gathering the things to put into it. Verbeck continued working at the bonds about his wrists. The cords were cutting through the flesh, but he did not desist. He knew that every second would be precious as soon as Landers and the two women left the room.
He stopped for an instant, because the exertion was tiring him, and his wrists pained so much. He saw that Kowen was trying to get free, too, and knew that he was making a failure of it. Landers had done his work well; it was evident that the man was an expert at binding and gagging.
Presently Landers came over, inspected their bonds, and laughed.
"You are only mutilating your wrists, Mr. Verbeck," he said. "I assure you that you will be unable to get free. I promise to call up the hotel within an hour or so, and tell them to come up and release you. It will get into the newspapers, of course—and the public will have another laugh at your expense—but you should be used to that by this time, you and the sheriff both. The town should give us credit for handing them a laugh now and then, as well as thrills."
The sheriff gurgled behind his gag again.
Verbeck looked past him to the window at which was the landing of the fire escape. He saw a shadow there, and looked away. Then he glanced back again, a new hope born in his breast. Once more he observed a shadow, and then a man's face showed for an instant as he peered inside. The man was his friend, Lawrence.
Lawrence had fussed and fumed for ten minutes after Verbeck and the sheriff had left. He had opened the window by the fire escape, and had looked down. The shade at the window in the room on the second floor was only partially drawn, and Lawrence could see the light streaming out.
"Wonder what those chaps are up to?" he asked himself. "Mean of Verbeck not to let me in on it. Ought to hear some sort of an explosion soon, I fancy. Maybe there'll be a row—give the hotel a bad name—beastly mess!"
He waited for half an hour longer, hanging out of the window and watching below. He saw nothing, heard nothing. At the foot of the fire escape a man was standing—the sheriff's deputy.
Then the lust for adventure was born in Lawrence's bosom. He chuckled at the very idea. He opened the window wider, and got out on the landing of the fire escape.
He began slowly descending the ladder, round by round, passed the landing on the third floor, and continued to the second. He went close to the window, and looked in.
He saw the sheriff and Roger Verbeck bound and gagged and lashed in their chairs. He saw Landers walking around the room, a revolver in his hand, and the two women packing the bag.
"Great Scott!" he breathed. "Verbeck and Kowen seem to have come a cropper! Prisoners, eh? Ought to give them a bit of help, I suppose. Can't let that other chap get away with this, of course."
Landers walked toward the window, and Lawrence drew back from it. He waited a moment, then glanced in again—and met Verbeck's eyes. Lawrence nodded his head. He went to the end of the fire-escape landing and looked down at the deputy, who had been watching him carefully, remembering his orders. He took a notebook from his pocket, and a pencil from another, and scribbled a message:
Come up quick! Man and two women in room have Verbeck and sheriff bound and gagged. They are packing bag and preparing to leave. I can't tackle this alone. I'm Verbeck's friend, Lawrence. Either come up the fire escape or go inside and to room 256 and nab them at the door, and I'll watch here.
Come up quick! Man and two women in room have Verbeck and sheriff bound and gagged. They are packing bag and preparing to leave. I can't tackle this alone. I'm Verbeck's friend, Lawrence. Either come up the fire escape or go inside and to room 256 and nab them at the door, and I'll watch here.
He tossed the note down, and the deputy picked it up and read it. The deputy was not certain just what to do. If he went inside the hotel he would disregard the sheriff's orders, which had been to watch the fire escape. So the deputy decided to climb.
He sprang up and caught the bottom of the iron ladder, reached the first landing, and worked his way up, watching Lawrence closely, a weapon held ready if Lawrence proved to be foe instead of friend. Lawrence glanced inside the room again, and gestured to Verbeck that he had reason to hope.