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!
*****
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!”