CHAPTER XIX—SUSPICIONMuggs apparently was making an effort to speak, but could not collect his wits. Blood was flowing from a wound on the back of his head. He staggered again, and would have fallen had not Verbeck helped him to a chair. Riley, preferring effective methods to kindness, grasped a pail of water and dashed the contents of the pail in Muggs’ face.“What happened?” the detective demanded.Muggs sputtered and spat, and sat more erect.“I’m—all right now,” he gasped.“Tell us!”“I—I looked around after you went upstairs—then bent over the stove to arrange the pots. Something smashed me on the head—that’s all I know. I think somebody grabbed me by the coat collar as I started to fall. I woke up and found myself on the floor—and tried to call the boss.”“That’s all?” demanded Riley.“Y-yes.”Detective Riley took charge in this emergency without as much as mentioning the matter to Roger Verbeck. He ran to the rear door and jerked it open, observed that the snow was still innocent of footprints, then put a police whistle to his lips and blew a vigorous blast.The sergeant came running, one of the men with him.“Bring your men in closer and watch all sides of the house!” Riley commanded. “Watch the roof, too, particularly the mouth of the chimney!”The sergeant turned away, shouting his orders. Riley slammed the door shut and whirled toward the stove.“Into the other room, Roger, and watch the stairs—and have your automatic ready,” he said. “In the chimney is the only place a man could be to pull off these stunts, and if he’s in the chimney he’s going to be smoked out!”He grasped the paper that had been around the provisions and threw it into the stove. He opened the drafts, and reached for more paper. The stove roared—smoke and flame sprang up into the chimney and through the big hood.“Watch her, Muggs—more paper when she needs it—and hold your gun ready, man! You’re all right?” Riley cried.“I’ll watch ’er!”Riley sprang into the other room. “Come!” he commanded Verbeck, and ran up the stairs again. Once more they looked into all the rooms on the second floor, and knew that nobody had been in any of them. Once more they ascended to the garret and looked into the two half-finished rooms there—and found nothing. Not a track was in the deep dust, not a cobweb had been brushed from a wall.“What’s that door over there?” Riley asked, pointing across one of the rooms.“Small closet—never used except to store toys in when I was a kid,” Verbeck answered.“We’ll just—— No use, though! Look at those cobwebs on the doorknob! Nobody in there! This beats me! Let’s go down again!”They retreated down the stairs, and went out on the veranda. No one had come from the house, the sergeant said. Smoke, and even flame, was pouring from the top of the chimney.“All right, sergeant—return your men to their posts, but keep a close watch,” Riley said. “No—there isn’t anything much wrong.”The sergeant knew there was, but he knew also that Riley did not talk when he preferred to remain silent. He sent the men back to their posts, and Riley and Verbeck reēntered the house and closed the door.In the kitchen Muggs was still putting paper into the stove, and Riley ordered him to stop.“If he was in that chimney, he’s a dead man,” the detective said. “And if he was a dead man, he’d fall and smash that hood to bits. So he isn’t in the chimney—and wasn’t—and he isn’t upstairs in any room—and he didn’t enter from outside. We’ve been dreaming.”“Not much we haven’t!” Muggs exclaimed. “Look at this bump on my head!”“Then please explain it!” Riley roared. “Explain those stars on the bread and the one between your eyes. I suppose this Black Star has spirits to help him or something like that. Give me an answer!”“The Black Star,” Verbeck observed, “is a smooth article.”“He is,” Riley admitted, “when he can smash a man on the head without coming into the house to do it. Ha! The basement!”There was a door opening into the basement from the kitchen, and it was locked. Moreover, an investigation showed that the bolt had not been shot for some time, for dust and cobwebs were on that bolt and on the door around it. Nevertheless, Riley opened the door, drew out his pocket flash lamp, and descended into the basement with Verbeck at his heels.The basement was large, but nothing was stored in it now except a small quantity of fuel. It did not take Riley and Verbeck long to decide no intruder had been in the basement.“Looks mighty funny to me!” Riley declared. “If that Muggs man of yours is playing tricks——”“Would he smash himself on the head?” Verbeck demanded, something of anger in his voice.“Such things have been done before. A little rap would start the blood, and he might have shammed a great deal of that staggering-around business. You don’t suppose this Black Star has got hold of Muggs—corrupted him or got the hooks into him?”“I do not!” Verbeck replied emphatically. “I’d stake my life on Muggs. He’s loyal! If the Black Star tried anything like that Muggs would tell me at once.”“Then how did it happen? Answer me that! It stands to reason, doesn’t it, that nobody has been in this house except the three of us?”“It looks that way, but——”“Humph! You go right ahead thinking what you like, Roger. As for me, boy, I’m going to keep one eye on Mr. Muggs.”“But——”“Don’t be angry now. It’s my business to be suspicious of people. I knew you when you were a baby, and I’m right with you in this scrap with the Black Star. You’ve lived with this Muggs man for some time, and you think he’s loyal—sure! He’s somewhat of a stranger to me, and I look at him from the outside, and don’t see him with any rosy waves of glory around his head. No insult meant, Roger. I’ll just keep an eye on him, and if he ain’t guilty it won’t hurt him a bit.”They went back to the kitchen. Muggs, now that the excitement was over, was going ahead with the preparations of the evening meal. Half an hour later he had it ready, and the three of them ate it in the living room, while Muggs groaned now and then and held his hand to the back of his head often, apparently not noticing that Riley eyed him constantly.“If I get my hands on that Black Star I’ll kill him!” Muggs promised. “That’s the second time he’s smashed me on the head!”“Maybe the Black Star didn’t do it,” Riley said.“Either him or one of his crooks!”“But we couldn’t find a trace——”“I don’t care,” Muggs interrupted; “if we knew absolutely that there wasn’t another human bein’ within ten miles—I know a man smashed me on the back of the head with a blackjack! I’ve had it done often enough in my life, and I know the feelin’! And as I fell he grabbed me by the shoulder and slapped that black star on my face! Don’t tell me!”The meal at an end, they discussed the trap Roger had proposed to set for the Black Star, perfecting details and deciding just how the scheme was to be worked. It was planned that Roger should go into the business district the following morning and arrange matters with a jewelry firm, communicate to the newspapers the news that he intended having the famous diamond necklace reset, and arrange with the chief to have the jewelry establishment crowded with officers day and night.So Roger retired at eleven that night, leaving Riley and Muggs on guard. He slept in the bedroom, with his clothes arranged beside the bed on a chair so that he could don them quickly if an alarm came from headquarters that the Black Star had committed the great crime he had promised. He was to arise at five and let Riley and Muggs sleep from five until ten. Then they would take up the watch again, and Roger would go into town about his business.At five o’clock Muggs awoke him, announcing that he had cleaned the bathroom and arranged the bath.“Anything happen?” Verbeck asked. “I’ve slept like a dead man.”“Quiet night, boss. Riley went out at midnight and prowled around the grounds a while and talked with the cops. Nobody’d been near the place, he said. I’ll have some coffee ready by the time you’re dressed, and when you’ve had it Riley can go to bed.”“And so can you, Muggs.”“Not for some time, I ain’t. You can bet I ain’t goin’ to let you be alone in that room with both Riley and me asleep. Look what happened to me in the kitchen when I was alone!”“I’ll call in the sergeant in charge of the squad, Muggs.”“Yes, and maybe he’s one of the Black Star’s men for all you know!”“Nonsense! Well, I’ll let you stay up until seven—how’s that?”“That’s a little better, boss.”Verbeck dressed and had his coffee, and Detective Riley retired to the bedroom. Muggs curled up on the divan. Verbeck paced the floor for a time, and then threw open the door and went out on the veranda for a breath of morning air. The squad of police had been changed, and the new sergeant in charge hurried toward Verbeck across the lawn.“I brought you the morning papers, Mr. Verbeck,” he said, “when I came on duty. Thought perhaps you’d like to have ’em.”“Thanks, sergeant.”“Your name certainly is in all of them! Say, is it true what they say?”“And what do they say?”“That you were planning a trap for the Black Star and he knew all about it?”“What!” Verbeck cried.He grasped the papers and opened the first that came to his hand. Great headlines told of the day’s progress in the Black Star case. The attack on the hotel clerk was exploited at length, the removal of Verbeck and Muggs and Riley to the old Verbeck place mentioned. The paper told how the place was surrounded at all hours by policemen, and grilled the police department because the dragnet had caught nothing but small fish.The eight crooks arrested with the Black Star, and who really aided his escape, had been bailed out. Bail of five thousand had been fixed in each case, and two famous criminal lawyers had appeared and put up forty thousand dollars cash, refusing to say for whom they acted, merely declaring the crooks were their clients.“So they’re loose!” Roger thought. “They’ll be at work again—or else they’ll all jump bail and so keep from betraying the Black Star’s secrets. I imagine it’d be worth forty thousand to him to have his plans safeguarded.”He read on. At two o’clock that morning, just as the paper was going to press, a messenger boy had appeared with a letter from the Black Star. The press had been stopped to get in this latest bit of news. The messenger declared he had been called to a prominent hotel and handed the letter by a distinguished-looking gentleman whose description did not tally with that of the Back Star.That letter read:Within three days!Within three days I commit the greatest theft I have perpetrated since coming to the city!Within three days I make a huge joke of Roger Verbeck, who dares match wits with me!I know all that goes on—I know everything! The police dragnet is most amusing. They never would dream of looking for me where I am hiding!I know, for instance, that yesterday afternoon, and again last evening, sitting in the living room of his ancestral home, Roger Verbeck planned with Detective Riley and Muggs, Verbeck’s man of all work, to set a trap for me. Very clever—had I not learned of it.Let Roger Verbeck understand that he may advertise to his heart’s content that he is having his famous diamond necklace reset at a prominent jeweler’s—and hope that I’ll take the bait and try to steal the jewels while a crowd of police are waiting to make a capture—but his hopes will be in vain. I am planning something bigger than the theft of the Verbeck necklace. The shock will come soon——Within three days!*****Verbeck did not go back into the house just then. He thanked the sergeant for the papers again, and turned toward one end of the veranda, to stand there and look off down the street, thinking.It was almost uncanny what this Black Star knew. It was beyond belief that either the Black Star or one of his confederates had been in the house and overheard those conversations. Had they not searched the house from bottom to top the evening before?How, then, had the knowledge reached the Black Star? Three men knew of that plan—himself, Riley, and Muggs. Then either Riley or Muggs, on the face of things, must have conveyed the information to the Black Star.“I can’t believe it—I can’t!” Verbeck told himself.He considered Muggs first. He believed in Muggs’ loyalty, had received many manifestations of it. Muggs also had entered the first chase of the Black Star with zeal, had in reality effected the crook’s capture. Would he turn traitor now?There was that affair of the evening before, when Muggs had received the blow on his head. There was the affair of the stars on the bread. Search had revealed that nobody was in the house. Who had put the stars on the bread then, and who had struck down Muggs and stamped his forehead? Had Riley been right? Was Muggs a Black Star man? Had he stamped that bread himself, given himself a wound, and pretended to be badly injured for a time just to carry out the orders of the master criminal?Then he considered Detective Riley. He would as soon believe Muggs guilty as Riley. His father had been Riley’s benefactor. Riley had known him since he was a baby, had taught him how to play baseball, how to swim. Yet in the last few years he had not seen much of Riley, and maybe he had been caught in the net of official graft. Maybe he was no longer honest, save on the surface. Perhaps, angered at last because he had not received the promotion he deserved, he had turned crook and was trading on his reputation for honesty.Muggs had said Riley had gone out and prowled around the house about midnight. He had a chance, then, to communicate with some agent of the Black Star. That would give the Black Star just about time to write the letter to the paper and have it delivered so that it would reach the newspaper office by two o’clock.Back and forth, back and forth across the veranda, Roger Verbeck paced, trying to fight down suspicions he did not believe worthy of him. Muggs disloyal? He could not believe it! Riley turned crook? He could not think it!Yet there was the morning paper. No one but Riley and Muggs had heard those plans. They had been discussed at the table in the center of the living room, with all the doors closed, and they had been discussed in low tones as the three men bent over the table. Why, it was doubtful if a man could have overheard, had he even been in an adjoining room and listening—and Verbeck knew no man had been in an adjoining room.“I can’t believe it!” he told himself again. “Yet here it is—and must be believed! I’ll say nothing—I’ll just let them read the papers. And I’ll watch! If either Riley or Muggs has turned against me, my faith in human nature is gone! Can’t I have even one honest ally? Must I fight this master criminal alone?”Muggs called to him from the doorway, wanting to know whether Verbeck was not cold without his coat. He looked at Muggs. He saw the seamed and wrinkled countenance, the eyes that twinkled kindly, the doglike look of devotion in the face—Muggs, who had fought for him scores of times, who had been willing in some of their adventures to lay down his life for the man who had saved him from the Seine. No—Muggs could not be disloyal!Detective Riley, then?
Muggs apparently was making an effort to speak, but could not collect his wits. Blood was flowing from a wound on the back of his head. He staggered again, and would have fallen had not Verbeck helped him to a chair. Riley, preferring effective methods to kindness, grasped a pail of water and dashed the contents of the pail in Muggs’ face.
“What happened?” the detective demanded.
Muggs sputtered and spat, and sat more erect.
“I’m—all right now,” he gasped.
“Tell us!”
“I—I looked around after you went upstairs—then bent over the stove to arrange the pots. Something smashed me on the head—that’s all I know. I think somebody grabbed me by the coat collar as I started to fall. I woke up and found myself on the floor—and tried to call the boss.”
“That’s all?” demanded Riley.
“Y-yes.”
Detective Riley took charge in this emergency without as much as mentioning the matter to Roger Verbeck. He ran to the rear door and jerked it open, observed that the snow was still innocent of footprints, then put a police whistle to his lips and blew a vigorous blast.
The sergeant came running, one of the men with him.
“Bring your men in closer and watch all sides of the house!” Riley commanded. “Watch the roof, too, particularly the mouth of the chimney!”
The sergeant turned away, shouting his orders. Riley slammed the door shut and whirled toward the stove.
“Into the other room, Roger, and watch the stairs—and have your automatic ready,” he said. “In the chimney is the only place a man could be to pull off these stunts, and if he’s in the chimney he’s going to be smoked out!”
He grasped the paper that had been around the provisions and threw it into the stove. He opened the drafts, and reached for more paper. The stove roared—smoke and flame sprang up into the chimney and through the big hood.
“Watch her, Muggs—more paper when she needs it—and hold your gun ready, man! You’re all right?” Riley cried.
“I’ll watch ’er!”
Riley sprang into the other room. “Come!” he commanded Verbeck, and ran up the stairs again. Once more they looked into all the rooms on the second floor, and knew that nobody had been in any of them. Once more they ascended to the garret and looked into the two half-finished rooms there—and found nothing. Not a track was in the deep dust, not a cobweb had been brushed from a wall.
“What’s that door over there?” Riley asked, pointing across one of the rooms.
“Small closet—never used except to store toys in when I was a kid,” Verbeck answered.
“We’ll just—— No use, though! Look at those cobwebs on the doorknob! Nobody in there! This beats me! Let’s go down again!”
They retreated down the stairs, and went out on the veranda. No one had come from the house, the sergeant said. Smoke, and even flame, was pouring from the top of the chimney.
“All right, sergeant—return your men to their posts, but keep a close watch,” Riley said. “No—there isn’t anything much wrong.”
The sergeant knew there was, but he knew also that Riley did not talk when he preferred to remain silent. He sent the men back to their posts, and Riley and Verbeck reēntered the house and closed the door.
In the kitchen Muggs was still putting paper into the stove, and Riley ordered him to stop.
“If he was in that chimney, he’s a dead man,” the detective said. “And if he was a dead man, he’d fall and smash that hood to bits. So he isn’t in the chimney—and wasn’t—and he isn’t upstairs in any room—and he didn’t enter from outside. We’ve been dreaming.”
“Not much we haven’t!” Muggs exclaimed. “Look at this bump on my head!”
“Then please explain it!” Riley roared. “Explain those stars on the bread and the one between your eyes. I suppose this Black Star has spirits to help him or something like that. Give me an answer!”
“The Black Star,” Verbeck observed, “is a smooth article.”
“He is,” Riley admitted, “when he can smash a man on the head without coming into the house to do it. Ha! The basement!”
There was a door opening into the basement from the kitchen, and it was locked. Moreover, an investigation showed that the bolt had not been shot for some time, for dust and cobwebs were on that bolt and on the door around it. Nevertheless, Riley opened the door, drew out his pocket flash lamp, and descended into the basement with Verbeck at his heels.
The basement was large, but nothing was stored in it now except a small quantity of fuel. It did not take Riley and Verbeck long to decide no intruder had been in the basement.
“Looks mighty funny to me!” Riley declared. “If that Muggs man of yours is playing tricks——”
“Would he smash himself on the head?” Verbeck demanded, something of anger in his voice.
“Such things have been done before. A little rap would start the blood, and he might have shammed a great deal of that staggering-around business. You don’t suppose this Black Star has got hold of Muggs—corrupted him or got the hooks into him?”
“I do not!” Verbeck replied emphatically. “I’d stake my life on Muggs. He’s loyal! If the Black Star tried anything like that Muggs would tell me at once.”
“Then how did it happen? Answer me that! It stands to reason, doesn’t it, that nobody has been in this house except the three of us?”
“It looks that way, but——”
“Humph! You go right ahead thinking what you like, Roger. As for me, boy, I’m going to keep one eye on Mr. Muggs.”
“But——”
“Don’t be angry now. It’s my business to be suspicious of people. I knew you when you were a baby, and I’m right with you in this scrap with the Black Star. You’ve lived with this Muggs man for some time, and you think he’s loyal—sure! He’s somewhat of a stranger to me, and I look at him from the outside, and don’t see him with any rosy waves of glory around his head. No insult meant, Roger. I’ll just keep an eye on him, and if he ain’t guilty it won’t hurt him a bit.”
They went back to the kitchen. Muggs, now that the excitement was over, was going ahead with the preparations of the evening meal. Half an hour later he had it ready, and the three of them ate it in the living room, while Muggs groaned now and then and held his hand to the back of his head often, apparently not noticing that Riley eyed him constantly.
“If I get my hands on that Black Star I’ll kill him!” Muggs promised. “That’s the second time he’s smashed me on the head!”
“Maybe the Black Star didn’t do it,” Riley said.
“Either him or one of his crooks!”
“But we couldn’t find a trace——”
“I don’t care,” Muggs interrupted; “if we knew absolutely that there wasn’t another human bein’ within ten miles—I know a man smashed me on the back of the head with a blackjack! I’ve had it done often enough in my life, and I know the feelin’! And as I fell he grabbed me by the shoulder and slapped that black star on my face! Don’t tell me!”
The meal at an end, they discussed the trap Roger had proposed to set for the Black Star, perfecting details and deciding just how the scheme was to be worked. It was planned that Roger should go into the business district the following morning and arrange matters with a jewelry firm, communicate to the newspapers the news that he intended having the famous diamond necklace reset, and arrange with the chief to have the jewelry establishment crowded with officers day and night.
So Roger retired at eleven that night, leaving Riley and Muggs on guard. He slept in the bedroom, with his clothes arranged beside the bed on a chair so that he could don them quickly if an alarm came from headquarters that the Black Star had committed the great crime he had promised. He was to arise at five and let Riley and Muggs sleep from five until ten. Then they would take up the watch again, and Roger would go into town about his business.
At five o’clock Muggs awoke him, announcing that he had cleaned the bathroom and arranged the bath.
“Anything happen?” Verbeck asked. “I’ve slept like a dead man.”
“Quiet night, boss. Riley went out at midnight and prowled around the grounds a while and talked with the cops. Nobody’d been near the place, he said. I’ll have some coffee ready by the time you’re dressed, and when you’ve had it Riley can go to bed.”
“And so can you, Muggs.”
“Not for some time, I ain’t. You can bet I ain’t goin’ to let you be alone in that room with both Riley and me asleep. Look what happened to me in the kitchen when I was alone!”
“I’ll call in the sergeant in charge of the squad, Muggs.”
“Yes, and maybe he’s one of the Black Star’s men for all you know!”
“Nonsense! Well, I’ll let you stay up until seven—how’s that?”
“That’s a little better, boss.”
Verbeck dressed and had his coffee, and Detective Riley retired to the bedroom. Muggs curled up on the divan. Verbeck paced the floor for a time, and then threw open the door and went out on the veranda for a breath of morning air. The squad of police had been changed, and the new sergeant in charge hurried toward Verbeck across the lawn.
“I brought you the morning papers, Mr. Verbeck,” he said, “when I came on duty. Thought perhaps you’d like to have ’em.”
“Thanks, sergeant.”
“Your name certainly is in all of them! Say, is it true what they say?”
“And what do they say?”
“That you were planning a trap for the Black Star and he knew all about it?”
“What!” Verbeck cried.
He grasped the papers and opened the first that came to his hand. Great headlines told of the day’s progress in the Black Star case. The attack on the hotel clerk was exploited at length, the removal of Verbeck and Muggs and Riley to the old Verbeck place mentioned. The paper told how the place was surrounded at all hours by policemen, and grilled the police department because the dragnet had caught nothing but small fish.
The eight crooks arrested with the Black Star, and who really aided his escape, had been bailed out. Bail of five thousand had been fixed in each case, and two famous criminal lawyers had appeared and put up forty thousand dollars cash, refusing to say for whom they acted, merely declaring the crooks were their clients.
“So they’re loose!” Roger thought. “They’ll be at work again—or else they’ll all jump bail and so keep from betraying the Black Star’s secrets. I imagine it’d be worth forty thousand to him to have his plans safeguarded.”
He read on. At two o’clock that morning, just as the paper was going to press, a messenger boy had appeared with a letter from the Black Star. The press had been stopped to get in this latest bit of news. The messenger declared he had been called to a prominent hotel and handed the letter by a distinguished-looking gentleman whose description did not tally with that of the Back Star.
That letter read:
Within three days!Within three days I commit the greatest theft I have perpetrated since coming to the city!Within three days I make a huge joke of Roger Verbeck, who dares match wits with me!I know all that goes on—I know everything! The police dragnet is most amusing. They never would dream of looking for me where I am hiding!I know, for instance, that yesterday afternoon, and again last evening, sitting in the living room of his ancestral home, Roger Verbeck planned with Detective Riley and Muggs, Verbeck’s man of all work, to set a trap for me. Very clever—had I not learned of it.Let Roger Verbeck understand that he may advertise to his heart’s content that he is having his famous diamond necklace reset at a prominent jeweler’s—and hope that I’ll take the bait and try to steal the jewels while a crowd of police are waiting to make a capture—but his hopes will be in vain. I am planning something bigger than the theft of the Verbeck necklace. The shock will come soon——Within three days!
Within three days!
Within three days I commit the greatest theft I have perpetrated since coming to the city!
Within three days I make a huge joke of Roger Verbeck, who dares match wits with me!
I know all that goes on—I know everything! The police dragnet is most amusing. They never would dream of looking for me where I am hiding!
I know, for instance, that yesterday afternoon, and again last evening, sitting in the living room of his ancestral home, Roger Verbeck planned with Detective Riley and Muggs, Verbeck’s man of all work, to set a trap for me. Very clever—had I not learned of it.
Let Roger Verbeck understand that he may advertise to his heart’s content that he is having his famous diamond necklace reset at a prominent jeweler’s—and hope that I’ll take the bait and try to steal the jewels while a crowd of police are waiting to make a capture—but his hopes will be in vain. I am planning something bigger than the theft of the Verbeck necklace. The shock will come soon——
Within three days!
*****
Verbeck did not go back into the house just then. He thanked the sergeant for the papers again, and turned toward one end of the veranda, to stand there and look off down the street, thinking.
It was almost uncanny what this Black Star knew. It was beyond belief that either the Black Star or one of his confederates had been in the house and overheard those conversations. Had they not searched the house from bottom to top the evening before?
How, then, had the knowledge reached the Black Star? Three men knew of that plan—himself, Riley, and Muggs. Then either Riley or Muggs, on the face of things, must have conveyed the information to the Black Star.
“I can’t believe it—I can’t!” Verbeck told himself.
He considered Muggs first. He believed in Muggs’ loyalty, had received many manifestations of it. Muggs also had entered the first chase of the Black Star with zeal, had in reality effected the crook’s capture. Would he turn traitor now?
There was that affair of the evening before, when Muggs had received the blow on his head. There was the affair of the stars on the bread. Search had revealed that nobody was in the house. Who had put the stars on the bread then, and who had struck down Muggs and stamped his forehead? Had Riley been right? Was Muggs a Black Star man? Had he stamped that bread himself, given himself a wound, and pretended to be badly injured for a time just to carry out the orders of the master criminal?
Then he considered Detective Riley. He would as soon believe Muggs guilty as Riley. His father had been Riley’s benefactor. Riley had known him since he was a baby, had taught him how to play baseball, how to swim. Yet in the last few years he had not seen much of Riley, and maybe he had been caught in the net of official graft. Maybe he was no longer honest, save on the surface. Perhaps, angered at last because he had not received the promotion he deserved, he had turned crook and was trading on his reputation for honesty.
Muggs had said Riley had gone out and prowled around the house about midnight. He had a chance, then, to communicate with some agent of the Black Star. That would give the Black Star just about time to write the letter to the paper and have it delivered so that it would reach the newspaper office by two o’clock.
Back and forth, back and forth across the veranda, Roger Verbeck paced, trying to fight down suspicions he did not believe worthy of him. Muggs disloyal? He could not believe it! Riley turned crook? He could not think it!
Yet there was the morning paper. No one but Riley and Muggs had heard those plans. They had been discussed at the table in the center of the living room, with all the doors closed, and they had been discussed in low tones as the three men bent over the table. Why, it was doubtful if a man could have overheard, had he even been in an adjoining room and listening—and Verbeck knew no man had been in an adjoining room.
“I can’t believe it!” he told himself again. “Yet here it is—and must be believed! I’ll say nothing—I’ll just let them read the papers. And I’ll watch! If either Riley or Muggs has turned against me, my faith in human nature is gone! Can’t I have even one honest ally? Must I fight this master criminal alone?”
Muggs called to him from the doorway, wanting to know whether Verbeck was not cold without his coat. He looked at Muggs. He saw the seamed and wrinkled countenance, the eyes that twinkled kindly, the doglike look of devotion in the face—Muggs, who had fought for him scores of times, who had been willing in some of their adventures to lay down his life for the man who had saved him from the Seine. No—Muggs could not be disloyal!
Detective Riley, then?