It was an evening of varied experiences for Muggs, one that he liked to remember later as being the acme in adventure and chance taking.
Muggs had been held a prisoner in the headquarters room at the place to which he had been moved, listening to the Black Star perfect his arrangements for his descent upon the Branniton residence—a prisoner who was allowed to see and to hear, yet was helpless to give a warning.
Now and then he got up from the couch and walked back and forth across the room, while the master criminal chuckled behind his mask, and frequently indulged his taste for sarcastic remarks.
"My dear Muggs, it would be a feather in your cap, would it not, if you were able to tell the authorities all that you know now?" the Black Star asked. "What a sensation you could cause by walking into police headquarters and shrieking your information into the ears of the chief and the sheriff and Roger Verbeck! But I am afraid that you will not be able to do anything of the sort, Muggs. However, we all have our little disappointments in life."
"You'll have somethin' worse than a disappointment before this thing is over!" Muggs snarled.
"You are still inclined toward violence—eh, Muggs? You should cultivate a more peaceful nature, such as I possess. Violence merely destroys itself, my dear Muggs."
"Yeh, and I'll probably destroy you before we make an end of this!" Muggs declared. "I tell you that you can't get away with it! You're about due to strangle on what you've bitten off!"
The Black Star did not reply to that; he merely chuckled and went back to the end of the table to consult his memorandum book again. It appeared to Muggs that the master crook consulted that book to a great extent this day, acting as if he felt that there was some minor detail he had forgotten.
After a time, the little bell on the wall tinkled, and a robed and masked figure entered the room and went to the blackboard. Muggs glanced at him in disgust. The Black Star's men had been reporting continually during the day.
"Number Five," the man wrote.
"Countersign?" wrote the Black Star on his blackboard.
"Everglades."
"Report."
"There appears to be no suspicion as to what we really intend to do to-night. The police reserves are being held in waiting, and the sheriff has his deputies ready for action, but those seem to be all the arrangements that have been made."
"How about Verbeck?" the Black Star wrote.
"He is at police headquarters now, waiting for the alarm so he can take the trail."
"Good. That is all," the Black Star wrote.
The member of the band bowed and backed through the door. The Black Star wrote something in the memorandum book, closed it and put it into a drawer in the table. Then he turned toward Muggs again.
"Muggs, I have decided to have you remain here this evening," he said, "I cannot spare the time to watch you, and so shall not take you with me."
"Thanks for that much!" Muggs growled.
"You will remain in this room, Muggs, and I shall have to keep your wrists lashed together, of course. I know that it will be uncomfortable—but that is the penalty for discovering my old headquarters and forcing us to move. I can't have you interfering with my plans to-night, you know."
"If I had a chance, I'd interfere with 'em, all right!"
"But the chance is missing—eh, Muggs? Do you mean you'd try to prevent me from making a fortune for my band by running away with some jewels and a couple of diplomats?"
"You haven't run away with them yet," Muggs told him.
"It is only a matter of an hour or so, my dear Muggs. Probably I shall bring those diplomats here. You'll have the chance, Muggs, to associate with a lord and a knight."
The Black Star rang, and his servant entered.
"I am going to leave our prisoner here to-night when I leave," the Black Star said. "I expect to find him here when I return. You understand?"
"He'll be here, sir!" the servant promised.
"As long as he behaves himself, give him the liberty of this room," the master criminal went on to say. "If he does not behave, handle him in your own way."
"Yes, sir."
"Tell the mechanic to be ready to start in ten minutes."
The servant hurried out. The Black Star glanced into his memorandum book again, and paced the floor, now and then looking at the little clock on the table. After a time, the servant returned.
"The mechanic is ready, sir," he reported.
"Good. Take care of Muggs while I am gone, but do not pester him so long as he is a good boy."
"He'd better not pester me!" Muggs growled.
The Black Star wrapped his robe closely around him, and put on the heavy ulster over it. He looked at Muggs once more, his eyes glittering through the mask. Then he chuckled, and hurried through the door.
Muggs threw himself full length on the couch and glared at the man who acted as the master rogue's servant.
"I'm gettin' mighty tired of this," he complained. "The eats are all right, and I suppose I hadn't ought to kick, but it ain't nice to have your wrists tied together all the time."
"If you're schemin' to get me to unfasten 'em, you ain't goin' to work the scheme, I can tell you that!" the servant declared. "Them wrists of yours stay just as they are, far as I'm concerned."
"You'd better never let me get 'em loose!" Muggs warned him.
"You wouldn't do much if they were."
"Is that so? I could separate you into sections in about ten minutes!" Muggs told him.
The servant laughed, sat down at the end of the table, and started to smoke. Muggs glared at him, rolled over, and turned his back to the room and the man in it.
Muggs might not have shown it outwardly, but he was almost frantic. The Black Star and his men were on their way, he knew. Before long they would surround the Branniton residence. They would get inside, rob women guests of their jewels, kidnap the two diplomats and Branniton, and rush away again before the police could reach the scene. Once more the public would howl, and the newspapers would ask why the police and Roger Verbeck did not capture the master criminal who did much as he pleased with the wealth of the town.
Muggs did not know, of course, where he was at the present moment. This new headquarters might be out at the edge of the city, or in the very heart of it. But Muggs did know that, if he could escape from the building, there would be a chance of warning the police and Verbeck, possibly in time for them to do something.
He tested the cords that lashed his wrists, and told himself for the hundredth time that they could not be removed. Everything had been taken from his pockets, including his knife. He had glanced around the headquarters room whenever he had a chance, and he had failed to see anything that might help him.
To get his wrists free—that was the first task. And then he would have to escape from the place, wherever it was. He did not know whether the servant was the only man remaining there; the Black Star might have others around, on guard. Nor were men all that had to be considered. There might be traps in the house, there might be another deadly fence, or something like that.
Muggs was beginning to feel desperate. He knew that every second had its value now. He rolled over, sat up on the couch, and yawned.
"I sure hope the Black Star turns me loose to-morrow," he said. "He hinted that he might, after he pulled off to-night's stunt."
"Yes, and maybe he won't, unless the sheriff lets Landers and those two women go," the servant said.
"Gee, the sheriff won't do that. Even my boss couldn't make him do it. He's got those three in the jug, and there they'll stay, unless the Black Star rescues them himself." Muggs got up and walked slowly to the table. "There ain't any law against me havin' a smoke, is there?" he asked.
"Help yourself—anything like that goes as long as you behave," the servant replied.
"The Black Star has a good brand of cigarettes, I'll say that much for him," said Muggs. "My boss smokes the same kind."
"You're kinder crazy about that boss of yours, ain't you?" the servant asked.
"Sure! Why not? He saved my life, and he certainly has helped me since. He gives me a steady job, good money, and treats me decent."
"He ain't like the general run of bosses, then."
"I should say not!" Muggs declared.
He put a cigarette in his mouth and picked up a match. It was an awkward task with his bound wrists. He struck the match, held the flame to the end of the cigarette, and puffed a cloud of smoke.
"If every man had a boss like mine," Muggs continued, "the world would be a better place. I had a boss in Paris once that was a terror. I almost strangled him one day."
"Why didn't you?" the servant asked.
Muggs dropped the flaming match—into the filled wastebasket.
"Oh, somethin' happened to stop me—somebody got his lamps on me, or somethin'. And I didn't happen to get a chance again. I had to do a dodge. The cops was after me."
"Cops?"
"Say, I've had real cops after me in my day!" Muggs boasted. "I cut out that line of life a few years ago, when I met Mr. Verbeck, but before that I was somethin' of a terror—especially in Paris."
"Paris? I've never had a chance to go there," said the servant.
"You want to go when you get a roll, some time. It's some town, boy—sometown!"
Muggs puffed at the cigarette again, and then turned toward the couch. The servant gave a cry and sprang from his chair.
"You cursed fool!" he shrieked. "You dropped that match in them papers!"
Muggs whirled around, astonishment in his face. "Put it out—or the whole darned place will burn down!" he cried. "If it catches on them curtains and things——"
He darted forward himself, snatched a small rug from the floor, and began beating at the flaming wastebasket. The servant was working on the other side of the table, trying to watch Muggs at the same time, but the latter seemed to be eager to put put the fire.
Muggs smashed at the flaming paper with his rug—and managed to scatter it. He ran from burning sheet to burning sheet, beating at the flames. The servant was not so watchful now. Muggs seemed intent only on putting out the fire and preventing a serious blaze; but as he fought the flames he managed now and then to thrust his hands and wrists into the fire!
The flames seared his flesh, but Muggs ignored that. He saw the cords that bound his wrists begin to smoke. He saw fire attack one of them. He thrust his wrists into the fire again, as he beat at a sheet of flaming paper, and tugged at his bonds. The fire was almost out now. He tugged at his bonds again.
They gave—they snapped—Muggs was free!
He gave a cry of relief, whirled around—launched himself straight at the Black Star's servant!
The man realized in that instant that he had been tricked. He snarled like a beast and sprang to one side.
Muggs was upon him before he could utter a cry. They clashed, each trying to find the other's throat. Muggs found that this would be no easy battle. Here was a man who was used to rough tactics, such as did not meet with the approval of the Black Star.
Across the room they fought, Muggs trying to get the advantage, trying to keep the other from shrieking for help, trying to get in a blow that would silence his adversary for a time.
The servant fought to carry out his orders that Muggs should be kept prisoner; but Muggs fought with the knowledge that he was trying to prevent the Black Star from having success in his latest undertaking, trying to help Roger Verbeck to victory.
Back and forth across the room they continued to battle. They fought fiercely, and both were becoming exhausted. Now they were on their feet, wrestling, and now they were upon the floor, rolling over and over, striking at each other, reaching for each other's throat and eyes.
And finally Muggs managed to get the grasp for which he had been striving. The servant gave a groan of pain, and his hold on the valet relaxed. Muggs choked—choked, and finally sprang to his feet and looked down at the unconscious man.
He would be unconscious for some time, Muggs knew, as he did not intend to waste precious time binding and gagging him. He ran to the door through which the Black Star had gone, and stood there for a moment to listen. He heard nobody outside—remembered that nobody had been attracted by the sounds of combat.
Muggs lifted the curtain, opened the door, and stepped into a dark hall. He had no weapon, no electric torch, not so much as a match in his pocket. He ran lightly to the end of the hall and found another door. This he opened cautiously, an inch at a time. He found that it opened into a room that was dimly lighted, a room that did not seem to have seen much use.
Muggs hurried in and closed and locked the door behind him. On the opposite side there was another door; Muggs listened at that for a time, and then opened it. He found himself facing another hall.
He hurried into it, and went on. He came to a flight of stairs and went up. He realized, now, that he had been in a basement. At the top of the stairs was a large room, half filled with rusted machinery and empty packing cases.
Muggs stooped and picked up from the floor a short iron bar; he had a weapon now. On he went, across the big room to a window. He looked out.
He was in the manufacturing district, he knew. This building was an old, abandoned factory. He could see the yard filled with scrap iron, the high fence around it, and, beyond, the empty street. Farther beyond that was the city, flashing with light.
Muggs started to raise the window. It stuck, but he managed to pry it up with the bar of iron, stopping now and then to listen and watch. He couldn't convince himself that the Black Star had left no guard other than the servant now unconscious below. That wasn't at all like the Black Star, Muggs thought. There must be a trap somewhere.
Then he remembered that the Black Star had been forced to move quickly. Perhaps this headquarters had not been completed when the master criminal had taken up his abode there.
Muggs got the window up, put out his head and looked around. It was pitch dark beneath the window and along the wall. Muggs got through, lowered himself and dropped.
He crouched against the wall, listening, the bar of iron clutched in his hand, ready for instant fight if occasion demanded it. Then he started following the wall, going toward where he had noticed a gate in the high fence.
He reached the corner of the building, and glanced around it cautiously. Not far from him, he seemed to see something move. Muggs was not sure at first whether it was an elusive shadow or a man. He decided an instant later that it was a man.
He scarcely breathed now. He had escaped thus far, and he did not intend to be stopped. He did not intend to waste much time, either. Even now, perhaps, the Black Star and his followers were surrounding the Branniton residence. Even now, perhaps, they were robbing women of their jewels, rendering the three men they had decided to abduct unconscious, and preparing to carry them away.
Like a shadow, the iron bar held ready, Muggs crept along the wall in the direction of the guard.
He was within ten feet of him when a match glowed. The flame shot up, and Muggs could see that the match was burning in the man's cupped hands, and that he was trying to light a cigar. Muggs covered the ten feet in two springs, the iron bar swept through the air and landed. There was a little whimper, and the Black Star's guard was stretched on the ground.
Muggs turned and ran across the yard. He had decided not to try the gate, for there might be another guard there. He sprang, grasped the top of the fence, running the risk that it might be charged and deadly, found that such was not the case, and drew himself up. A moment later, he was in the street.
Muggs never had been much of a runner, but he ran to-night. Up the street he went, his elbows glued to his sides, head bent forward, stumbling and staggering over the rough cobblestones, but making excellent progress. There was no person on the street, no vehicle in sight. This was an old manufacturing district far down the river, where there was nothing to attract people. Only a few street lights were burning, and they were far apart.
Almost breathless, Muggs ran on. His heart was pounding at his ribs, his side pained, his breathing was labored. He turned a corner into another street, and continued running!
Would he never reach a telephone? Would he never run across a member of the police force? Was there nobody in that end of town who could help him? Block after block he ran, always looking for a light, for a dingy saloon, for some place where he could get into communication with police headquarters and give the alarm. He was in despair; he felt that he could not keep up much longer.
Presently he saw lights ahead of him, and felt hope and joy surge within him. Ahead, only two blocks away, was one of the barns of the city street railway.
Panting, exhausted, Muggs stumbled through the entrance and ran into the little office. Half a dozen conductors and motormen sprang from their benches and hurried toward him.
"Quick—telephone!" Muggs gasped. "Police——"
He saw the telephone instrument on the wall, and lurched toward it. He grasped the receiver, tore it from the hook, began calling into the transmitter. One of the conductors was trying to talk to him; one of the motormen was trying to stop him from using the instrument until he explained. Muggs threw out a foot and kicked him away.
"Police headquarters! Police headquarters!" he shrieked. "This headquarters? Give me the chief! This is Muggs! Yes—Muggs! Hurry—hurry!—That you, chief? Mr. Verbeck there? This is Muggs. I just—got away. Black Star's gang—going to raid—Branniton house—get jewels—kidnap them swells——"
And then Muggs sank slowly against the wall.
His words had electrified the conductors and motormen. They picked him up, and one of them continued the conversation, telling what had happened, but he soon found himself talking to nobody. The chief had recognized Muggs' voice and that had been enough.
The conductors and motormen threw water into Muggs' face, and he gasped and sat up. They helped him to a bench and sat him there, while he fought for breath, grasped his chest where it pained, struggled to regain his strength.
"Got—to get there——" he gasped.
"Where?" one of the men cried.
"Richard Branniton's house—in the—West End!"
"The foreman's flivver's out in front; he'll let us use it," a conductor cried. "I don't go on duty for an hour yet. Come on!"
He ran toward the curb, and Muggs staggered after him. Muggs got into the cheap little car. The obliging conductor cranked it and sprang in beside him.
"We'll get there quick, or we'll shake every bolt and nut off the blamed thing!" he said.
The flivver lurched away down the street.
It would have done Muggs good had he been able to see the effect of his message at police headquarters. The chief sprang from his chair shrieking the news. Verbeck and the sheriff dashed with him through the assembly room and out to the street, and as they went, the chief shouted his orders. The reserves ran out and sprang into the automobiles, the deputies did the same.
"Good Muggs!" Verbeck cried, as he drove like a fiend through the streets. "I knew he'd do it—if he had a chance!"
Verbeck swung between two street cars, causing two motormen to turn pale for an instant, and then to curse joy riders. Strung out behind the powerful roadsters were the police cars. The sirens were not working now. The chief had issued orders that they were not to be used if it could be avoided, as it would indicate to the Black Star and his men that they were coming.
"Hope we get him this time!" the chief shrieked into Verbeck's ear. "Drive, man, drive!"
Verbeck drove. He forced the powerful roadster to do its utmost. He called upon the expensive engine to pay for itself this night. He swung around other vehicles, dashed around corners, swept up hills like a comet.
They passed through the retail district, and got on a wide avenue where there was not so much traffic, and where better speed could be made. And now they were in the section of better residences, speeding on.
They turned another corner—and the Branniton house was but four blocks away.
At the Branniton residence, Richard Branniton was stretched on the floor, unconscious from the effects of a vapor gun. The men were standing against one wall, the ladies against another. The Black Star's men guarded the doors and windows and watched the guests. The master criminal himself was in the center of the room.
"I must have all your jewels, ladies," he said. "You need not be alarmed; you shall not be harmed if you conduct yourselves properly. And you gentlemen will be safer if you indulge in no attempt to better your present condition. I assure you that you are at the mercy of my band."
He made a sign, and three of his men took bags from beneath their robes and started toward the line of women.
"Take off your jewelry and toss it into the bags," the Black Star directed. "Married ladies may retain their wedding rings and their engagement rings, but must give up everything else. That is just to show that I am not hard-hearted, as some persons would have the world believe."
He laughed gleefully as his men began their task. Terrified women removed their jewels and handed them over. Weeping women, hysterical women, surrendered necklaces, brooches, rings. The bags were filled rapidly, and the Black Star's men stepped back again.
"And now we have something else to do," the Black Star said. "Which of you gentlemen is Lord Sambery?"
One of them stepped forward, a dignified man of perhaps fifty. "I have that honor," he said stiffly.
"I admire you greatly, sir," the Black Star said. "I have read a great deal about the work you have done. I admire you so much that I insist you become my guest for a time."
"I beg your pardon?" stammered the astonished nobleman.
"I insist upon it, sir!" the Black Star said. "And where is Sir Burton Banks?"
"I am here!"
"I admire you, too, sir, and you shall be my guest also," the Black Star declared.
"Allow me to decline your hospitality," said Sir Burton Banks stiffly.
"But I cannot allow you to do so," the master criminal said, chuckling. "You see, you mean money to me."
"How is that?" Sir Burton Banks demanded.
"Not your money," the Black Star said. "It has occurred to us that you two gentlemen are in this country on an important mission, and that your time is very valuable. We have an idea that, if you should be detained, certain persons and personages would pay a handsome sum for your release."
"Why, confound the fellow! He means to abduct us and hold us for ransom!" Lord Sambery exclaimed.
"You have guessed it," the Black Star said.
"But this is the United States of America, sir, and we are in one of its greatest cities! I never heard of such a thing! The idea is preposterous! You can't do it!"
"Can't we?" asked the Black Star with a laugh. "It's a very simple thing. We just render you unconscious and carry you away—and you can never be found."
"Why, you dare not!" cried Sir Burton Banks.
"I am not particularly prone to fear," the master criminal said. "I have dared many things, and accomplished many things harder than kidnaping a couple of gentlemen. You need fear nothing; you shall be treated with every courtesy."
"I—I shall fight!" Lord Sambery declared.
"You are an elderly man, sir, and, also, I abhor violence," the Black Star reminded him. "You cannot fight long against one of my vapor guns, your lordship."
"I—I—my country will have you punished for this!"
"The first thing will be to capture me, your lordship," said the master criminal. "I was captured before, but managed to escape, as perhaps you know. But we are wasting valuable time in conversation, and I'll have ample time to talk to you during the next two days. I am forced to have you gentlemen put to sleep for a short time, but I assure you there are no bad after effects."
"You—you——" Sir Burton stammered.
"It is quite useless to protest, or to attempt to fight," the Black Star informed him. "By the way, I am going to take Mr. Branniton along, too."
"You fiend!" Branniton's wife cried.
"He shall not be harmed, my dear madam, but it will cost him something to regain his liberty. He caused me considerable annoyance; he was the prosecuting attorney at my trial."
"And he shall be again!" Mrs. Branniton retorted.
"Perhaps—we shall see! I have no idea of standing trial again, my dear madam. By the time I am captured, your husband probably will be a United States senator, or an ambassador abroad. I realize that he is a man of promise."
The Black Star signaled to two of his men, and they advanced toward Lord Sambery and Sir Burton Banks. The latter showed that he intended to fight, regardless of what the master criminal had said. But the Black Star's men rushed in, discharged their vapor guns, and darted back again. The two diplomats toppled over on the floor. A woman shrieked.
"They are not harmed a bit," the Black Star assured them. "They will simply awake from a sleep, and feel quite fit. Ladies, I regret that I interrupted your little party. I suggest you continue it after I leave with my men. In reality, you should thank me. You will have something to talk about for the remainder of your lives; and women, I have heard, love to talk!"
He backed toward the entrance to the hall.
A shrill whistle came from the lawn outside—another—a third. The Black Star whirled toward the door. His men stood still, listening. Into the room rushed a robed and masked member of the band.
"Police, sir—all around the place!" he cried.
Verbeck's roadster was stopped on the corner nearest the Branniton residence. Verbeck and the chief sprang out and darted across the walk. The police autos came up and discharged their loads of officers. The chief issued his orders rapidly.
"Surround the place! Get into the alley! Pick up everybody that looks suspicious—and be ready to fight and fight hard! Let's get them this time!"
Officers hurried to every side of the house, poured into the alley, rushed across the lawn. They caught the men with the limousine, and those with the truck that apparently was stalled, and held them for investigation later. They drew a close net around the Branniton place, and the chief and Verbeck, with half a dozen trusted men, started toward the front veranda.
But the master criminal had had watchers scattered around the lawn. They were caught in the police net, too, but they were able to give the alarm. They rushed inside the house; and the Black Star was informed that the police were upon him.
He ordered the guests into one of the smaller rooms, and closed and locked the door on them. He had the lights turned off all over the house; the waiter attended to that. He issued his orders rapidly, like a general conducting a battle, sent men to defend the doors and windows.
"Violence appears to be necessary," he said. "We must drive them off and get away, or there'll be more of them upon us within a short time!"
From a window over the veranda, the Black Star looked at the situation. Two of the police automobiles were playing searchlights on the sides of the house. Another was driving across the lawn to do the same on the front. The Black Star took an automatic from beneath his robe, and fired one shot across the lawn.
The shot was a signal. From every window shots were sent at the men surrounding the house, shots that were not meant to wound or kill, only to terrify. But the chief's men were not easily frightened.
They sought refuge behind trees and clumps of brush, and returned the fire. They shattered windows and made it impossible for the Black Star's men to remain in them. They poured volleys against the doors.
But the master criminal and his men were safe so far. The officers were not able to get inside the house. The Black Star had no wish to stand a siege, for he knew that there could be but the one outcome. There came a lull in the battle, and the Black Star shouted from his window.
"Is the chief there?"
"He's here!" came a voice from the darkness.
"This is the Black Star!"
"Well, what do you want? Are you and your men ready to surrender to us? We'll get you, and get you good, if you don't!"
"Surrender?" the Black Star said. "When I hold the advantage?"
"I don't see it!" the chief shouted.
"No? My dear chief, there are in this house the most prominent persons in your fair city. We have with us, also, two diplomats of international fame. I abhor violence, but in such a case as this, it becomes necessary. You will withdraw your men. You will take them to the corner, beneath the electric light, where we can see them plainly. You will keep them there fifteen minutes, and after that you may do as you please."
"I see myself!" the chief cried.
"If you do not, I shall use violence upon those in the house. For every ten minutes we are forced to remain here, I shall take a human life. For every one of my men wounded or slain, I shall take another human life. Think it over, chief!"
The chief did think it over, with Roger Verbeck to aid him. The Black Star was at the end of his rope. Captured again, he was certain to be convicted and sentenced to prison for life. He was the sort who would go out fighting—the sort to do all the harm he could before he went out.
"We're not sure that it's not a bluff!" Verbeck said. "But we can't do as he asks, of course."
"We'll rush the house!" the sheriff declared. "That's our business in a case of this kind, isn't it? We may lose a few men, but it must be done. What else is there to do?"
"We'll have to rush it!" the chief returned. "Our aim is to get inside and fight it out as quickly as possible, without letting that fiend have time to do much damage. I'll give the orders." The chief whispered them to a captain, and he passed them on.
The Black Star was shouting from a window again. "'Well, what is the decision, chief?"
"You say you want fifteen minutes?" the chief asked, more to gain time than anything else.
"Fifteen minutes will be enough, thank you. Remain on that corner with your men for fifteen minutes, and then do as you please. That is all I ask."
"Well, you're asking enough! What do you suppose the public will say when they know I had you and let you go?"
"My dear chief, they'll probably give you credit for saving the lives of some prominent persons. I understand that the mayor is a guest here this evening. Shall I have him come to the window and decide what you are to do?"
"Let him come!" the chief said.
He knew in advance what the mayor would say. The mayor would tell him to charge the house, break in, and capture the Black Star and his men. The mayor happened to be a man of courage.
Thus the chief had gained a little time, and that was all he wanted—time enough for his orders to be passed around to all the officers. Now his men were ready.
The chief blew his whistle. The searchlights that had been playing on the house were extinguished; and through the darkness the police and deputies rushed upon the Branniton residence!
A volley greeted them from the windows, but the Black Star's men were firing wildly into the darkness, and their shots had no effect. Officers and deputies crowded the veranda, attacked the French windows, battered at the doors.
A cheap automobile lurched around the corner and stopped in front of the house. Muggs had arrived!
Muggs never forgot that wild ride in the flivver. The street-car conductor drove the little machine as if it had been a racing car. It lurched around corners, almost ran down traffic policemen, swung ahead of street cars. The conductor was like a maniac. He always had craved excitement and adventure. Now it had come to him, and he intended to make the most of it.
They dashed up to the Branniton residence, and Muggs, not even thinking of thanking the conductor, sprang out and rushed across the lawn.
"Boss! boss!" he shrieked above the din.
Somebody told him that Verbeck was on the veranda. He rushed there and found his employer.
"Boss, was I in time?" he asked. "I got loose as soon as I could!"
"You bet you were, Muggs. The Black Star's inside, with some of his gang!"
"I told the big stiff this was goin' to be his unlucky night! You give me a chance to get at him, boss! I've got a few scores to settle with that bird!"
"We'll all get at him, Muggs! We'll be inside in a minute!"
The doors and windows were crashing in now. Policemen and deputies were pouring into the house. Shots greeted them, shots from both automatics and vapor guns. They struggled through clouds of the pungent vapor, here and there a man dropping because he had inhaled some of the fumes. They grappled with men in black robes and masks. Through the house they fought, while outside were others who watched every exit and caught those who tried to get away from the place.
One of the deputies had been an electrician formerly, and he knew where the light switches were located in the Branniton house. He fought his way to the kitchen, found them, and turned on the lights.
Things were better for the policemen and deputies after that. They could tell friends from foes. The Black Star's men barricaded themselves in certain rooms. Some of them threw down their weapons and held up their hands in token of surrender, and were immediately seized and handcuffed. The others were cleared from the lower floor, fought up the wide stairs, and continued the battle on the second floor.
Verbeck and Muggs were in the thick of the fight. They were looking for the Black Star. So were the chief, and Sheriff Kowen. They searched the basement and the rooms on the ground floor, but found no trace of him.
"He's on the second floor!" Verbeck cried. "Up we go!"
The guests who had been held prisoners were released from the room in which they had been locked. The women fled to the lawn, and across it to the street. Some of the men went with them; others joined in the fray. There was a crowd in the street now and more people were arriving every minute. Word had flashed throughout the city that the Black Star and his followers had been cornered in the residence of Richard Branniton.
The members of the band were being caught rapidly. A few had been wounded, a few officers also. But the criminals were scattered now, and here and there one surrendered, or was overpowered.
Verbeck and Muggs, the chief and the sheriff thought of nothing but the Black Star. They knew that the policemen and deputies could care for the others of the band. It was the master criminal himself that they wanted, to put him behind prison bars once more, to have years added to his sentence, to send him to the big prison up the river where he no longer would be a menace to society at large.
They ran from room to room, searching for him. They shrieked suggestions to one another above the din of the battle. They found a room at one end of the upper hall, with the door locked, and hurled themselves against it and broke it in.
There they saw the man they wanted. He had thrown off his robe and mask. He held a bomb in his hand—and stopped them with a gesture.
"Wait!" he commanded. "This is not a vapor bomb—it is the real thing. It can blow all of us to bits! So four of you came to get me, eh? Mr. Verbeck, and the chief and the sheriff—and Muggs. I suppose, since you are free and here, that you did all this, Muggs?"
"You bet I did!" Muggs cried.
"Wait, gentlemen! Don't make a move to raise a weapon, or we all will be hurled into the hereafter." The Black Star stepped back toward a window. "I suppose you have me cornered," he said. "I suppose you think you are going to take me back to jail. But it happens that I have one card yet to play!"
He hurled the bomb, and it exploded. It was a vapor bomb, after all. The cloud of pungent gas assailed them. They whirled to either side, away from it. There was a crash of glass.
"He's gone through the window!" Muggs shrieked.
Trying to keep from breathing, they rushed to the window, got through it and to the roof of the veranda, where they gulped the fresh air!
The Black Star had jumped to the ground. They saw him for an instant. Then he was lost in the darkness. The chief shouted a warning to his men.
"Down, and after him!" Verbeck cried.
"We've got him!" cried the chief. "The entire yard is surrounded. He's in a trap!"
Muggs was the first to reach the ground. He did not stop to climb down one of the posts, but did as the master criminal had done—jumped.
Verbeck and the chief and Sheriff Kowen were not far behind him. Officers who had been on the veranda charged after the Black Star in response to the chief's command.
The net grew tighter. They were in a corner of the lawn, calling to one another. A police auto drove across the grass, and the searchlight was turned on.
There was the circle of policemen and deputies, with Verbeck and Muggs, the chief and the sheriff at one side of it.
But the Black Star was gone!
"He can't have got away!" Muggs exclaimed.
"Where did he go?" the chief demanded.
"He didn't come past us," one of the policemen declared. "I don't see how he got out of the circle. Why, he hasn't had time to get away; and the men in the street——"
The officers in the street already had been warned. The entire block was surrounded; it seemed impossible that the master criminal could escape.
"Maybe he dodged the boys here, but he'll never get away from the block!" the chief declared. "Have more searchlights turned on the lawn, and tell the men in the alley to keep awake. He can't be far!"
Out of the sky came a blinding light. It flooded the house and lawn, turned the night into day.
"That—that light——" Sheriff Kowen gasped.
The light disappeared. They waited, watching the sky. They were silent now. No sound reached their ears except the din from the house. They saw nothing.
And then they heard the Black Star's voice.
"Did you really think you had me?" it said. "I must admit that you have wrecked my plans and scattered my organization again. Some of my men will have to go to prison, I suppose, but you haven't caught me, never will catch me! I shall leave the city, and you cannot prevent it. I have prepared for this emergency. When my organization is formed again, perhaps I shall return. My campaign is over for the present, but there will be another!"
The voice died away. There was silence for a moment, and then the brilliant light flashed again, flooded the lawn, almost blinded the men there.
"There is a letter by the alley gate!" The voice of the Black Star now came to them faintly. "Good night, gentlemen!"
"Gone!" the chief gasped. "Gone!"
"But how on earth——" Kowen began.
"That letter!" Verbeck cried. "Let's get it!" They hurried to the alley gate, and there they found the letter, as the Black Star had said. They carried it back to the police automobile, and read it in front of the searchlight.
Gentlemen: If you have this letter, it means that my plans have been ruined, and that I have been forced to escape. I cannot neglect this chance to tell you how futile have been your efforts.Have you wondered how I spoke to you out of the sky? Have you worried about the bright light? Are you surprised at the way I escaped you just now?I have in my organization a wonderful man. He is a mechanical genius gone wrong. He has perfected airplanes as no man dreams they can be perfected. I have been using an airplane—but it is anoiselessairplane! Can you imagine what that would mean if the world had the secret? An airplane, as the public knows it, heralds its approach. With this, I can sail at night over the city, without making the slightest noise. I can hover over a certain spot——Yes, I meanhover. For this airplane is so perfected that it can stand still in the air. It can be raised or lowered straight up or down. Do you understand now?The airplane was hovering over the lawn, a rope ladder dropped from it. I merely climbed up the ladder as the airplane ascended. I am writing this in advance, but I know what I shall do, if forced. I always plan for every emergency, you see. And while you poor fools bite your nails in your chagrin, I shall be speeding through the air to a certain refuge I have prepared. There I shall recuperate and plan some more. *****
Gentlemen: If you have this letter, it means that my plans have been ruined, and that I have been forced to escape. I cannot neglect this chance to tell you how futile have been your efforts.
Have you wondered how I spoke to you out of the sky? Have you worried about the bright light? Are you surprised at the way I escaped you just now?
I have in my organization a wonderful man. He is a mechanical genius gone wrong. He has perfected airplanes as no man dreams they can be perfected. I have been using an airplane—but it is anoiselessairplane! Can you imagine what that would mean if the world had the secret? An airplane, as the public knows it, heralds its approach. With this, I can sail at night over the city, without making the slightest noise. I can hover over a certain spot——
Yes, I meanhover. For this airplane is so perfected that it can stand still in the air. It can be raised or lowered straight up or down. Do you understand now?
The airplane was hovering over the lawn, a rope ladder dropped from it. I merely climbed up the ladder as the airplane ascended. I am writing this in advance, but I know what I shall do, if forced. I always plan for every emergency, you see. And while you poor fools bite your nails in your chagrin, I shall be speeding through the air to a certain refuge I have prepared. There I shall recuperate and plan some more. *****
Roger Verbeck read the letter aloud. A chorus of gasps came from those who heard.
"Well, he is gone!" Verbeck said. "But his band is broken up, and that is something!"
"And if he ever comes back here, we'll get him, won't we, boss?" Muggs asked.
"We'll get him!" Roger Verbeck said. There was determination in his voice.