Black Star's Campaign
A DETECTIVE STORY
By JOHNSTON McCULLEY
Author of "John Standon of Texas," "Black Star."
CHELSEA HOUSE
79 SEVENTH AVENUE
NEW YORK CITY
Black Star's Campaign
Copyright, 1919 by STREET & SMITH
(Printed in the United States of America)
All rights reserved, including that of translation into foreign
languages, including the Scandinavian.
CONTENTS
CHAPTER PAGE
I. NEWS FOR THE SHERIFF 11
II. A SHOCK FOR THE CITY 17
III. THE NEW HEADQUARTERS 26
IV. OVER THE TELEPHONE 36
V. TRAILED 47
VI. WHAT KOWEN FOUND 56
VII. VERBECK INVESTIGATES 63
VIII. MYSTERY AND AN ALARM 71
IX. ORDERS AND LETTERS 78
X. A DOUBLE CRIME 85
XI. MORE MYSTERY 94
XII. ANOTHER TELEPHONE CALL 101
XIII. INSIDE THE MUSEUM 107
XIV. MISSING MASTERPIECES 116
XV. SOME FISHERMEN 124
XVI. HOT BREAD 132
XVII. MUGGS SEES HIS MAN 141
XVIII. MUGGS MEETS DISASTER 147
XIX. IMPORTANT INFORMATION 155
XX. ON THE TRAIL 163
XXI. A TENSE MOMENT 172
XXII. ON THE ROOF 183
XXIII. MUGGS GIVES A TIP 192
XXIV. ON THE TRAIL 202
XXV. END OF THE TRAIL 209
XXVI. THE BIG BLOW 218
XXVII. MUGGS TAKES A CHANCE 227
XXVIII. THE ALARM 235
XXIX. CAUGHT IN THE NET 244
XXX. MUGGS ARRIVES 249
XXXI. AN EMPTY NET 250
XXXII. THE LETTER 254
BLACK STAR'S CAMPAIGN
CHAPTER I
NEWS FOR THE SHERIFF
Sheriff Kowen looked up from his desk in amazement as the stenographer
ushered in the woman. The name on her card had told him nothing, and he
had expected to be confronted by some middle-aged, washed-out, tired
wife and mother who would make a request to visit the jail and talk with
an erring relative.
What he did see when he raised his eyes and cleared his throat
preparatory to indulging in his professional attitude, was a handsomely
gowned, beautiful woman of perhaps thirty years, a woman who appeared to
be exceedingly cultured and refined.
Sheriff Kowen got out of his chair quickly, and placed one at the end of
the desk for his visitor. Then he seated himself again, and looked
across to her.
She appeared to be nervous, almost distraught, on the verge of tears.
"My dear Miss Blanchard," Sheriff Kowen said, glancing at the card the
stenographer had handed to him, and for once forgetting his usual gruff
manner, "is there any way in which I may be of service to you?"
"I scarcely know how to approach the subject," she replied. The sheriff
noticed that her voice was all that he had expected it would be--a voice
that was modulated to the correct society pitch. "Such a thing as--as
this is--well, I am not used to it."
"Just take your time, and tell me in your own way," said the sheriff.
"You have--er--some sort of a complaint to make?"
"Yes, that is it. In the first place, we do not reside in this city
regularly. We have a suite at a private hotel--my mother, my brother and
myself. It is about my brother that I wish to see you."
"He is--er--in trouble?"
"Not exactly that, but--please tell me, first, Mr. Kowen, it is against
the law to operate a gambling house, is it not?"
"It most certainly is!" Kowen exclaimed. "When I was first elected, I
fought gambling houses--got quite a reputation for working along that
line. I fought the cheap ones, and I fought the pretentious dress-suit
establishments--cleaned them out!"
"Pardon me, Mr. Kowen, but one remains--else it is a new one that has
opened recently."
"What's that?" the sheriff cried, sitting up straighter in his chair.
"If there is a gambling house running in my section of the country,
it'll not run long!"
"I--I feel almost like a spy," Miss Blanchard said. "I hate to be an
informer----"
"That is your duty in such a case, my dear young lady."
"I feel it so, under the circumstances," she said. "I do not want to
cause my brother trouble--but I have talked it over with mother, and we
decided that I should come and tell you the whole thing."
"I shall be glad to listen, Miss Blanchard."
"My brother is twenty-one, just a boy, you might say. When we came to
the city, he happened to make the acquaintance of some other young men
who belonged to a very fast set. He began remaining away from home until
the early morning hours, and drinking too much, and all that."
"I understand, my dear young lady. Nine young men out of ten sow their
wild oats."
"And he began spending more money than he could afford to spend. Mother
and I began to fear he would dissipate his share of my father's estate,
for he controls it since he has come of age. We wondered where the money
was going--and finally we found out."
"Gambling joint?"
"Yes, sir. A gambling den in a large house in the most exclusive section
of the city."
"Those are the places I like to smash!" Sheriff Kowen told her.
"I can give you the address, Mr. Kowen. I understand that a man cannot
get into the place unless he is properly introduced."
"Naturally, they would be very careful," the sheriff said.
"It is what you called a dress-suit sort of place. Perhaps I am doing
wrong telling you this----"
"Not at all. It is your duty," the sheriff assured her. "Nobody ever
will know where I got my information."
"I'd like to have the place closed up," Miss Blanchard continued, "so
that my brother and other young men will not be robbed of their money
and ruined. I suppose you would have to make a raid--I believe that is
the term? I'd hate to cause my brother trouble, but a little scare
might----"
"I understand, Miss Blanchard. It is probable that he would be caught in
a raid, placed under arrest for frequenting a gambling resort, and
brought to jail. He would immediately put up bail for his appearance in
court. He would give an assumed name, and not show up in the morning,
forfeiting his bail. So there would be little publicity, but he would
get a scare."
"Oh, thank you! If it could be done that way----"
"It can, my dear Miss Blanchard. We are determined to exterminate
gambling houses. The court is in accord with me in this matter. Since
you give me the information, you may be sure I'll protect your brother's
interests to a certain extent. We'll frighten him a bit, but you need
have no fear he will serve a term in jail, or anything like that."
"I understand," said Miss Blanchard.
"Simply give me the address--and then forget that you have seen and
spoken to me. I'll do the rest. You must be very careful, of course, not
to let your brother suspect that you have been here. He would inform his
friends, and our raid would fail. Every time a raid fails, it hurts us.
A certain part of the public, antagonistic politicians and newspapers,
you see----"
"I understand, Mr. Kowen. Here is the address--I have written it on a
card."
She placed the card before him on the desk. Sheriff Kowen glanced at it.
"Ah!" he exclaimed. "So! I should say it was in the most exclusive
section of the city. This is very valuable information, Miss Blanchard,
if our investigation bears out your statements. I cannot thank you
enough. There will be more to this than a gambling-house raid; the
owners of the property must give the court a little explanation, I
fear."
"You are sure that I did not do wrong coming here like this?"
"I am sure that you did quite right, my dear young lady. You perhaps
have aided us in rounding up sharpers who fleece young men of their
fortunes, and perhaps you have saved your brother. He is at the stage, I
take it, where a little scare will do him a lot of good. You have done
quite right!"
"Then I must hurry away," she said, rising. "And I shall do as you
said--forget that I have been here. My brother----"
"I'll watch out for him, Miss Blanchard--a little scare and nothing
more! It is the proprietor of the place and his partners we are after,
more than the victims."
Sheriff Kowen went as far as the corridor with Miss Blanchard, and then
hurried back to his private office and began pushing buttons. He called
before him certain of his deputies, gave them the information he had
acquired, and certain orders, and sent them away. Then he touched match
to cigar, leaned back in his chair, blew a cloud of fragrant smoke
toward the ceiling, and chuckled softly. Sheriff Kowen had not had a
chance to raid a gambling house of any importance for more than a year;
and raiding a gambling house was his pet sport. He promised himself that
this raid should be sensational in the extreme. Gambling houses were not
going to flourish while Kowen was holding office as sheriff.
As for Miss Blanchard, she drove in a taxicab to an exclusive private
hotel, ascended in the elevator to the eighth floor, and entered a suite
there.
A woman of forty was sitting before a window looking down at the busy
street. She was talking to a man of about the same age, a man who
appeared to be a prosperous merchant, or something of the sort, and who
looked up quickly when Miss Blanchard entered.
"Well, Mamie, how about it?" he growled.
"It was easy!" Miss Mamie Blanchard replied. "He fell for it so hard
that I could almost see him bounce. He swallowed the bait, hook, sinker
and line. We've played the game just right--that man would rather raid a
gambling joint than eat!"
"Think he'll get busy right away?" the man asked.
"Busy? The instant he left me he ran back to his desk. I think that we
can look for action to-night."
"Well, we'll give him a chance. He'll want to make sure of the evidence
first, of course, and we'll see that he gathers plenty of that without
too much trouble. All the other details have been arranged. I'll issue
orders this afternoon, and have everything in readiness. We can't go
wrong on this."
"And afterward?" the girl asked.
"You'll get your reward, all right. If this man's town isn't crazy
within forty-eight hours, it'll be something peculiar. You know your
part, I suppose?"
"Certainly."
"Get ready, then. I'll go, now, and get word to all the boys. I'm glad
that the long wait is over, that we are ready to strike!"