When Muggs had departed Verbeck got up and walked into the other room,
where the Black Star was on the floor in an uncomfortable position.
Muggs had left the window open, and the cold air swept in, bringing
sleet and snow with it. It had been all one with Muggs whether the
Black Star froze to death or not.
Verbeck closed the window. He didn’t want to carry the man into the
furnished room for fear some other member of the gang might come to
make a report, although now it was almost three o’clock in the
morning. So he threw the door open wide and rolled in the couch and
lifted the Black Star upon it, covering him with two heavy portières
that hung before one of the doors. However, there was no expression of
thanks in the Black Star’s countenance.
Verbeck went back into the other room and closed the door behind him.
He took a candle from a shelf in the corner and lighted it, then made
an inspection of the house from bottom to top. No other room was
furnished; there were no arrangements for cooking, no store of food.
The Black Star, then, did not live here, only came here to receive the
members of his gang. That would make it possible for Verbeck to remain
away from the house except at night.
He went back to the furnished room and conducted an investigation
there. First he looked at the orders in the envelopes. Nine was the
highest number there, but Verbeck did not know how many envelopes had
been given out that night before his arrival. And the orders were
astounding.
Only one had to do with gathering information; the others concerned
projected crimes. Some of them Verbeck could not understand, since
they referred to orders given previously. But others indicated not
only crimes, but the manner in which they were to be committed. They
told what to steal and just where to steal it, where there was danger
and where there was none. Verbeck began considering whether he should
give these orders out if any more men called. Taking the place of the
Black Star did not include aiding in crimes, he told himself. He would
issue orders of his own, orders that would keep the members of the
band from their nefarious business, but at the same time would keep
them in touch until he could arrange a wholesale capture.
Verbeck fumbled around the end of the table for several minutes before
he found the spring which released the drawer and caused it to open.
As he and Muggs had seen earlier in the night, there was an abundance
of money in the drawer. There were half a score of diamond rings, too,
a pearl necklace, other gems. There was a box of little rubber type
and an ink pad and a small memoranda book.
Verbeck opened the book. On the last written page of it he found
something that interested him. At the top was a date—that very day—and
below was a list of numbers, with hours set opposite. The book told
when members of the band were expected to report. Verbeck found that
the first was Number Three, due at nine o’clock that night. And from
then until two o’clock the next morning others were due at stated
intervals. The entire band, it was evident, was to appear for orders
within a few hours and comparison of the book with the printed orders
gave Verbeck an inkling of the scheme.
The Black Star had, indeed, planned a staggering blow to the city’s
pride; his band of crooks was to make a specialty of stealing jewels
taken from safe-deposit boxes to be worn at the Charity Ball. For a
few hours these valuable jewels would be protected only by ordinary
safes in residences, and during those few hours the members of the
Black Star’s band would strike.
Verbeck went in to see that the Black Star was as comfortable as he
could be while bound and gagged, and then walked over to the window.
The storm was dying down; the snow and sleet had almost ceased to
fall, but the cold seemed to be increasing.
Returning to the furnished room, he sat down beside the table to wait.
An hour from the time Muggs had departed the bell tinkled. Verbeck
adjusted his mask and touched the button that opened the door. In a
moment Muggs stood beside him.
“Here are the keys, boss,” he said. “I’ve got the car near the mouth
of the alley, and the lights are out. We can take him along the
hedge——”
“Good!” Verbeck interrupted.
They went inside and lifted the Black Star and carried him out.
Verbeck took off mask and robe and put them on the table, and one by
one blew out the candles. Then he closed the door and helped Muggs
carry the Black Star through the musty hall. Another moment, and they
were outside.
It was not particularly a difficult task to carry their man along the
hedge and to the car, and there Verbeck put him in the back and got in
beside him, while Muggs took the wheel. They made their way slowly up
the hill and to a well-paved street, and there Muggs turned on the
lights and the car rushed forward through the night.
The old Verbeck place was one of the city’s landmarks. It was closed
now, and had been closed for the greater part of the past five years.
It had been bequeathed Verbeck, the last of his family, by his father,
and the young man had had no desire to repair it and live in it alone
with a staff of servants. He preferred his apartment, and to live in
it with no servant except Muggs.
But now, betrothed to wed Faustina Wendell, Verbeck was contemplating
tearing down the old house and erecting a mansion in its place for his
bride. The present house occupied the center of the block. It was
surrounded by trees and tangled underbrush. The walks about it were in
poor condition, and nobody ever approached it. It was to this place
that he was taking the Black Star.
It was a long, cold ride. The Black Star groaned and threw his head
from side to side, indicating that he wanted the gag removed, but
Verbeck declined to accommodate him. He was taking no chances with the
Black Star.
The machine lurched and skidded along the streets, dashed along
boulevards, swung around corners. Muggs was putting on all possible
speed, for the dawn was not far away.
The machine was finally brought to a standstill before the double
gates that opened into the driveway of the old Verbeck place. Verbeck
got out and helped Muggs throw open the gates, and they drove in.
There was fuel in the house, and after they had carried the Black Star
in and made him comfortable on a couch Verbeck built a fire in the
large grate in the living room. Then he removed the man’s gag, and all
his bonds except those which held his hands fastened behind his back.
“There, Mr. Black Star!” he said. “It has been an exciting night. You
sent a man to invade my apartment, and in turn I invaded your place of
business—I suppose that is what you’d call it—and made you prisoner,
with the aid of this very good friend of mine. And now you are
here—and I’m quite sure you don’t know just where. And here you’ll
remain for the time being, until I form some plans and put them in
operation. You’ll be kept warm, and you’ll have food. Muggs will guard
you. And you’ll be unable to escape.”
“All very clever,” the Black Star retorted. “But you are playing with
fire, Mr. Verbeck, and are liable to be badly scorched.”
“I’ll run the risk of that.”
“Remember, I told you my organization has a long arm. I’m storing all
this up against you.”
“Very kind of you, I’m sure.” He turned to Muggs. “How do you want to
work this thing?” he asked.
“Just let him fuss around with his hands tied, boss,” Muggs said.
“I’ll get a strap or some rope from the closet and tie ’em properly.
And if he tries any funny tricks I’ll either shoot him or pound him on
the head with the butt of the gun—’tis immaterial. You can leave it to
me, boss.”
And Verbeck knew by the expression of Muggs’ face that he could.