CHAPTER XV—THE CHALLENGESilence for a moment, save for Muggs’ single gurgle of disgust, and then:“What’s that?” Roger Verbeck demanded, stepping forward and facing the chief.“They let him escape, I’m telling you! How, in the name of all that’s human, they could do it is more than I can guess! Don’t ask me—ask some of these boobs! For months we’ve been crazy to get this Black Star—we have him handcuffed and in the wagon—and he escapes! He’s been gone an hour or more. He’s probably ransacked the mayor’s house and blown up the vault of the First National Bank in that time, just to show his anger at being pinched. Ah-h!”The chief sputtered his wrath again.“Out!” he cried to his men. “Out—every man of you! Some of you saw that crook’s face—though I doubt if you can tell me now whether he’s got one eye or two. Out, and get him! Don’t come back until you do! Get out of here—and I’ll break the man who dares to report no progress! Out, fools!”Glad to escape their superior’s wrath, the detectives scattered, and the uniformed men ascended the stairs to the room used by the reserves, there to discuss the latest event in lowered voices, for the chief’s command did not apply to the “harness bulls.”The chief beckoned Verbeck and Muggs to follow him into his private office.“It’s enough to drive a man insane!” he exploded, reaching for his box of cigars and passing it around.“How did it happen?” Verbeck asked.“Don’t ask me! The wagon stopped before the jail door as usual. We had the eight crooks and this Black Star. As they started to get out, two of the crooks bumped my men aside, two more tripped at the end of the wagon, the female crooks of the gang pretended to faint, and the Black Star made a dash for the alley. One of the fools took a shot at him and smashed a fourth-story window across the street. He made a clean get-away with the bracelets on him! Think of it! Right here at headquarters! They thought he was knocked out——”“Probably he was shamming,” Verbeck observed in an emotionless voice.“You’d think anybody’d watch out for that—but not these fine detectives of mine! And every newspaper in town knows we had our hands on the Black Star and let him go. They’ve been pestering the life out of me, and I tipped off the capture as soon as my men telephoned from the Charity Ball, where you handed the crook over, thinking the department would get a little credit. And now they’ll be worse on me than before. I’ll resign! I’m done! But I’ll break some of ’em first——”“Your men are after him, aren’t they?” Verbeck interrupted.“Yes—they’re after him. They’ve been after him for four months, and a lot of good it has done. You tell me your story, Verbeck; there are some things I don’t know.”Speaking quickly, Verbeck did as he had been requested, telling the chief of his discovery of the Black Star, and of how he had played master criminal for a day in an effort to corral the band. He explained how the Black Star had an organization that gathered information for him and another that committed the crimes. When he had finished the chief chewed at his cigar and smote the desk with a palm.“Great scheme!” he exclaimed. “Got an organization that reaches into every corner, eh? No wonder we had a time trying to get a line on him! Oh, he’s a master crook all right! Great Scott! Maybe some of his men are right here in headquarters!”“It is possible,” Verbeck said.“Well, his perfect plans are spoiled now, at any rate. And half a dozen of my men have seen his face—besides you and this man Muggs of yours. So I suppose he’ll make a break and get away; he’ll be afraid to work here any more. We’ll send his eight crooks over the road, but not the Black Star, eh? That’ll be one nice stain on my department! But, thank Heaven, his work is done in this town!”Suddenly the chief sat forward and regarded Verbeck gravely.“See here!” he exclaimed. “There may be considerable danger for you. Even if the Black Star beats it, and his plans are smashed and his organization scattered, some of his friends may take it out on you for getting hands on him and spoiling their game. You may be a marked man. Better let me send a couple of good men up to that bachelor apartment of yours. And you’d better stay, close around home for a few days, until we know how things are going to be.”“Pardon me,” said Verbeck, “but from what you have told me to-night I scarcely think a couple of your men would be of much value. I’d rather rely on myself and Muggs.”“Rubbing it in, eh? I don’t blame you! But you can have the men if you want them.”“No, thanks, chief. I’ll go along home now and get some sleep. Here’s hoping you catch your man. He didn’t have much of a start, and he had handcuffs on his wrists—but he’s a slippery customer. My man can testify to that. He slipped away from him once, and left a bump on his head when he did it.”“Better let me send up those men, Mr. Verbeck, even if they are pretty much worthless. We don’t want to have you found knifed in bed some morning.”“I’m not afraid of any of the gang, chief, and the Black Star can’t organize again and issue orders until he has a new headquarters. And, remember, I’ve talked to the Black Star. He isn’t the sort of man who kills.”“No?”“No; he’s the sort that takes a pride in being a master criminal who uses brains instead of violence in pulling jobs no other man would approach and in doing them in a neat manner. Did he ever leave a mussed-up safe behind?”“He generally unlocks ’em, takes what he wants, puts one of his blamed black stars in ’em, and locks ’em again—cuss him!”“There you have his character, chief. Good night!”Verbeck and Muggs made their exit in dignified and proper manner, and they did not speak until they were in the roadster and a block from police headquarters, on their way home. Then Muggs broke the silence in characteristic fashion.“Whaddaya know about that!” he exclaimed in great disgust.“The Black Star is a clever man, Muggs.”“His pals helped that get-away.”“Certainly—thinking that, with the Black Star at liberty, the organization will come to their rescue in some manner.”“I noticed you swallowed that bunk the chief handed out about this Black Star making a break for other parts, now that he has been seen by a few cops.”“You think I swallowed it, Muggs?”“I was hopin’ you didn’t.”“Well, I didn’t, Muggs. I boasted I could capture the Black Star, and he’s just the sort of man to try to show me I cannot. I wouldn’t be the least bit surprised if he remained in the city for the purpose of making a laughingstock of me.”“That’s the way I’m looking at it, boss.”“I fancy we’ll hear from him in a few days, Muggs.”They put the roadster in the garage at the rear of the bachelor-apartment house, and then ascended to Verbeck’s apartment. Muggs snapped on the lights in the library, while Verbeck threw off hat and overcoat and gloves and reached for his favorite pipe. He glanced at the clock on the desk—it was within a few minutes of four in the morning.He gave an exclamation, took a quick step forward, and looked at the face of the clock again.On the glass, directly over the figure IX,had been pasted a tiny black star!“That wasn’t there when I dressed last evening,” Verbeck mused. “So he’s been here since he escaped the police, eh? That is pretty swift work!”Muggs hurried in from the bedroom.“Boss! Look!” he cried. “This was pinned on your pillow!”He extended an envelope. A black star was pasted on it. The letter was addressed to Roger Verbeck.“Swift work!” Roger exclaimed again.“Boss, my hunch is workin’ yet! Telephone the chief to send up them men—let him send twenty of em!”“One moment, Muggs! Your solicitude for my welfare is overwhelming—but suppose we read this entertaining epistle before making a move. Perhaps I’ll want to fight this out alone.”He ripped the envelope open, took out a sheet of paper, unfolded it, and read:Mr. Roger Verbeck: You almost had me, but at the supreme moment I escaped. You have seen me; so have police officers and eight of my band who never saw me before. You have discovered some things concerning me, but what you have found out is as nothing when compared to what you do not know. This little incident has served to put an edge on my wit.You boasted you could catch me—do it! And the next time hang on to me until I am behind the bars—and even then I’ll triumph. I laugh at you and your efforts, as I laugh at the police. I am not going to run away! I’ll even keep you informed of my movements—and then you cannot get me. And, for the trouble you and your man have caused me, I am going to get you, Roger Verbeck, and get you good! I do not contemplate violence on your person—that would be the resort of an ordinary thug. But I’ll hurt you, Roger Verbeck, in a thousand ways, break you down, ruin you, make you a joke, until you’ll curse the day you first heard of the Black Star. It’s a fight to a finish between us. Every place you turn you’ll be reminded of me and my purpose.Sleep well to-night, and in security, for you’ll need the rest. The moment you awake the fight is on. And I’ll know when you awake. I’ll know every move you make, and I’ll almost know every thought in your head—you poor fool!*****Roger Verbeck took the most of that epistle as a matter of course, but his eyes narrowed to two tiny slits when he read that “poor fool,” and his lips set in a straight line. That “poor fool” stung Roger Verbeck almost as much as the unpardonable phrase would have stung him.He handed the Black Star’s letter to the waiting Muggs.“We’ve fought some pretty good battles, Muggs, but nothing to what this is going to be,” he said. “On your toes, Muggs! Forget that hunch of yours! We don’t quit until I stand in court and hear a judge sentence the Black Star for his crimes, until I watch him pass in through the doors of a State prison. Think what he’s done, Muggs—of the decent persons he’s forced into his gang! This is going to be the hardest fight of our lives.”“My coat’s off, boss, and my sleeves rolled up!”“Good! We’ll fight alone, if we can. There is no one we can trust. Police officers, persons we meet every day, our acquaintances, even our friends, may be in his organization—and he’ll soon get it working again. But we can trust each other, Muggs.”“You said something there, boss! You bet we can!”
Silence for a moment, save for Muggs’ single gurgle of disgust, and then:
“What’s that?” Roger Verbeck demanded, stepping forward and facing the chief.
“They let him escape, I’m telling you! How, in the name of all that’s human, they could do it is more than I can guess! Don’t ask me—ask some of these boobs! For months we’ve been crazy to get this Black Star—we have him handcuffed and in the wagon—and he escapes! He’s been gone an hour or more. He’s probably ransacked the mayor’s house and blown up the vault of the First National Bank in that time, just to show his anger at being pinched. Ah-h!”
The chief sputtered his wrath again.
“Out!” he cried to his men. “Out—every man of you! Some of you saw that crook’s face—though I doubt if you can tell me now whether he’s got one eye or two. Out, and get him! Don’t come back until you do! Get out of here—and I’ll break the man who dares to report no progress! Out, fools!”
Glad to escape their superior’s wrath, the detectives scattered, and the uniformed men ascended the stairs to the room used by the reserves, there to discuss the latest event in lowered voices, for the chief’s command did not apply to the “harness bulls.”
The chief beckoned Verbeck and Muggs to follow him into his private office.
“It’s enough to drive a man insane!” he exploded, reaching for his box of cigars and passing it around.
“How did it happen?” Verbeck asked.
“Don’t ask me! The wagon stopped before the jail door as usual. We had the eight crooks and this Black Star. As they started to get out, two of the crooks bumped my men aside, two more tripped at the end of the wagon, the female crooks of the gang pretended to faint, and the Black Star made a dash for the alley. One of the fools took a shot at him and smashed a fourth-story window across the street. He made a clean get-away with the bracelets on him! Think of it! Right here at headquarters! They thought he was knocked out——”
“Probably he was shamming,” Verbeck observed in an emotionless voice.
“You’d think anybody’d watch out for that—but not these fine detectives of mine! And every newspaper in town knows we had our hands on the Black Star and let him go. They’ve been pestering the life out of me, and I tipped off the capture as soon as my men telephoned from the Charity Ball, where you handed the crook over, thinking the department would get a little credit. And now they’ll be worse on me than before. I’ll resign! I’m done! But I’ll break some of ’em first——”
“Your men are after him, aren’t they?” Verbeck interrupted.
“Yes—they’re after him. They’ve been after him for four months, and a lot of good it has done. You tell me your story, Verbeck; there are some things I don’t know.”
Speaking quickly, Verbeck did as he had been requested, telling the chief of his discovery of the Black Star, and of how he had played master criminal for a day in an effort to corral the band. He explained how the Black Star had an organization that gathered information for him and another that committed the crimes. When he had finished the chief chewed at his cigar and smote the desk with a palm.
“Great scheme!” he exclaimed. “Got an organization that reaches into every corner, eh? No wonder we had a time trying to get a line on him! Oh, he’s a master crook all right! Great Scott! Maybe some of his men are right here in headquarters!”
“It is possible,” Verbeck said.
“Well, his perfect plans are spoiled now, at any rate. And half a dozen of my men have seen his face—besides you and this man Muggs of yours. So I suppose he’ll make a break and get away; he’ll be afraid to work here any more. We’ll send his eight crooks over the road, but not the Black Star, eh? That’ll be one nice stain on my department! But, thank Heaven, his work is done in this town!”
Suddenly the chief sat forward and regarded Verbeck gravely.
“See here!” he exclaimed. “There may be considerable danger for you. Even if the Black Star beats it, and his plans are smashed and his organization scattered, some of his friends may take it out on you for getting hands on him and spoiling their game. You may be a marked man. Better let me send a couple of good men up to that bachelor apartment of yours. And you’d better stay, close around home for a few days, until we know how things are going to be.”
“Pardon me,” said Verbeck, “but from what you have told me to-night I scarcely think a couple of your men would be of much value. I’d rather rely on myself and Muggs.”
“Rubbing it in, eh? I don’t blame you! But you can have the men if you want them.”
“No, thanks, chief. I’ll go along home now and get some sleep. Here’s hoping you catch your man. He didn’t have much of a start, and he had handcuffs on his wrists—but he’s a slippery customer. My man can testify to that. He slipped away from him once, and left a bump on his head when he did it.”
“Better let me send up those men, Mr. Verbeck, even if they are pretty much worthless. We don’t want to have you found knifed in bed some morning.”
“I’m not afraid of any of the gang, chief, and the Black Star can’t organize again and issue orders until he has a new headquarters. And, remember, I’ve talked to the Black Star. He isn’t the sort of man who kills.”
“No?”
“No; he’s the sort that takes a pride in being a master criminal who uses brains instead of violence in pulling jobs no other man would approach and in doing them in a neat manner. Did he ever leave a mussed-up safe behind?”
“He generally unlocks ’em, takes what he wants, puts one of his blamed black stars in ’em, and locks ’em again—cuss him!”
“There you have his character, chief. Good night!”
Verbeck and Muggs made their exit in dignified and proper manner, and they did not speak until they were in the roadster and a block from police headquarters, on their way home. Then Muggs broke the silence in characteristic fashion.
“Whaddaya know about that!” he exclaimed in great disgust.
“The Black Star is a clever man, Muggs.”
“His pals helped that get-away.”
“Certainly—thinking that, with the Black Star at liberty, the organization will come to their rescue in some manner.”
“I noticed you swallowed that bunk the chief handed out about this Black Star making a break for other parts, now that he has been seen by a few cops.”
“You think I swallowed it, Muggs?”
“I was hopin’ you didn’t.”
“Well, I didn’t, Muggs. I boasted I could capture the Black Star, and he’s just the sort of man to try to show me I cannot. I wouldn’t be the least bit surprised if he remained in the city for the purpose of making a laughingstock of me.”
“That’s the way I’m looking at it, boss.”
“I fancy we’ll hear from him in a few days, Muggs.”
They put the roadster in the garage at the rear of the bachelor-apartment house, and then ascended to Verbeck’s apartment. Muggs snapped on the lights in the library, while Verbeck threw off hat and overcoat and gloves and reached for his favorite pipe. He glanced at the clock on the desk—it was within a few minutes of four in the morning.
He gave an exclamation, took a quick step forward, and looked at the face of the clock again.
On the glass, directly over the figure IX,had been pasted a tiny black star!
“That wasn’t there when I dressed last evening,” Verbeck mused. “So he’s been here since he escaped the police, eh? That is pretty swift work!”
Muggs hurried in from the bedroom.
“Boss! Look!” he cried. “This was pinned on your pillow!”
He extended an envelope. A black star was pasted on it. The letter was addressed to Roger Verbeck.
“Swift work!” Roger exclaimed again.
“Boss, my hunch is workin’ yet! Telephone the chief to send up them men—let him send twenty of em!”
“One moment, Muggs! Your solicitude for my welfare is overwhelming—but suppose we read this entertaining epistle before making a move. Perhaps I’ll want to fight this out alone.”
He ripped the envelope open, took out a sheet of paper, unfolded it, and read:
Mr. Roger Verbeck: You almost had me, but at the supreme moment I escaped. You have seen me; so have police officers and eight of my band who never saw me before. You have discovered some things concerning me, but what you have found out is as nothing when compared to what you do not know. This little incident has served to put an edge on my wit.You boasted you could catch me—do it! And the next time hang on to me until I am behind the bars—and even then I’ll triumph. I laugh at you and your efforts, as I laugh at the police. I am not going to run away! I’ll even keep you informed of my movements—and then you cannot get me. And, for the trouble you and your man have caused me, I am going to get you, Roger Verbeck, and get you good! I do not contemplate violence on your person—that would be the resort of an ordinary thug. But I’ll hurt you, Roger Verbeck, in a thousand ways, break you down, ruin you, make you a joke, until you’ll curse the day you first heard of the Black Star. It’s a fight to a finish between us. Every place you turn you’ll be reminded of me and my purpose.Sleep well to-night, and in security, for you’ll need the rest. The moment you awake the fight is on. And I’ll know when you awake. I’ll know every move you make, and I’ll almost know every thought in your head—you poor fool!
Mr. Roger Verbeck: You almost had me, but at the supreme moment I escaped. You have seen me; so have police officers and eight of my band who never saw me before. You have discovered some things concerning me, but what you have found out is as nothing when compared to what you do not know. This little incident has served to put an edge on my wit.
You boasted you could catch me—do it! And the next time hang on to me until I am behind the bars—and even then I’ll triumph. I laugh at you and your efforts, as I laugh at the police. I am not going to run away! I’ll even keep you informed of my movements—and then you cannot get me. And, for the trouble you and your man have caused me, I am going to get you, Roger Verbeck, and get you good! I do not contemplate violence on your person—that would be the resort of an ordinary thug. But I’ll hurt you, Roger Verbeck, in a thousand ways, break you down, ruin you, make you a joke, until you’ll curse the day you first heard of the Black Star. It’s a fight to a finish between us. Every place you turn you’ll be reminded of me and my purpose.
Sleep well to-night, and in security, for you’ll need the rest. The moment you awake the fight is on. And I’ll know when you awake. I’ll know every move you make, and I’ll almost know every thought in your head—you poor fool!
*****
Roger Verbeck took the most of that epistle as a matter of course, but his eyes narrowed to two tiny slits when he read that “poor fool,” and his lips set in a straight line. That “poor fool” stung Roger Verbeck almost as much as the unpardonable phrase would have stung him.
He handed the Black Star’s letter to the waiting Muggs.
“We’ve fought some pretty good battles, Muggs, but nothing to what this is going to be,” he said. “On your toes, Muggs! Forget that hunch of yours! We don’t quit until I stand in court and hear a judge sentence the Black Star for his crimes, until I watch him pass in through the doors of a State prison. Think what he’s done, Muggs—of the decent persons he’s forced into his gang! This is going to be the hardest fight of our lives.”
“My coat’s off, boss, and my sleeves rolled up!”
“Good! We’ll fight alone, if we can. There is no one we can trust. Police officers, persons we meet every day, our acquaintances, even our friends, may be in his organization—and he’ll soon get it working again. But we can trust each other, Muggs.”
“You said something there, boss! You bet we can!”