At seven o’clock Verbeck ordered Muggs to bed, promising to call him
with Riley at ten o’clock. He had kept the morning papers from Muggs,
for he had decided to announce the failure of their contemplated trap
when both men were facing him.
When snores from the adjoining room told him that Muggs was in a heavy
sleep, Verbeck decided to make a tour of the house by himself in an
effort to solve the mysteries that had been puzzling him. Automatic
held ready, he crept softly up the stairs and examined every room on
the second floor, looking at every window and door, but failing to
find as much as a track in the dust.
He mounted to the garret once more and peered into the two
half-finished rooms there. Then he returned to the first floor and sat
down before the table in the living room, trying to think it out. He
asked himself again whether Muggs had really put those black stars on
the bread and had wounded himself in an effort to make Verbeck believe
he had been attacked. What would be the motive? Verbeck shook his head
because he could think of none. And had Riley betrayed their
contemplated trap? Again he asked himself the motive, and told himself
there was none, unless Detective Riley was a member of the Black
Star’s band and acting under the orders of the master criminal.
He paced the floor, and occasionally went on the veranda, fighting
down the belief that either of the men had turned against him, calling
upon himself to have faith in them.
Ten o’clock came, and he awoke Riley and Muggs and prepared coffee
while they dressed. He put the coffee on the table, with butter and
rolls, and scattered the newspapers around. Then, as the two men began
eating, he walked to the nearest window and stood looking out over the
snow-covered lawn.
Presently there was an exclamation behind him, and he whirled around,
to find both Muggs and Riley staring at newspapers as if they could
not believe their eyes. Verbeck decided that either they were
genuinely surprised, or were good actors.
“Yes,” he said before either of the others could speak, “the Black
Star knows. It will not be necessary for me to go into town and make
arrangements with the jewelers and the chief.”
“But——” Riley began, and stopped and looked at the paper again.
“Yesterday afternoon I discussed the matter with Riley,” Verbeck went
on. “We sat here at the table and talked in ordinary tones. Last
evening the three of us discussed it, sitting at the table and
speaking softly. I doubt whether a man, had he even been in the
bedroom adjoining, could have understood us clearly. Yet the Black
Star knows all about it—he knew in time to have that letter reach the
newspaper by two o’clock in the morning. I, for one, am certain I did
not communicate with the Black Star or any of his crooks.”
He turned his back upon them again, and looked through the window.
“But—but——” Riley stammered. “Why, nobody except the three of us knew
anything about it!”
“Exactly!” said Verbeck.
“Then how—— You don’t think I tipped it off in any way?”
“Boss,” cried Muggs, “you don’t suppose I——”
“I am not thinking, or supposing, anything about it,” said Verbeck.
“We are confronted by facts.”
“Well, let’s consider the matter squarely,” Riley offered. “Even if we
take it for granted that either Muggs or myself is a member of the
Black Star’s band, when would either of us have had a chance to betray
the plan?”
“You went outdoors and prowled around considerable about midnight,”
Muggs said. “You had a chance then.”
“If it comes to that, my impetuous friend, you were alone in the
kitchen yesterday afternoon while Roger and I were discussing the
matter. You were there when mysterious black stars got stuck on a loaf
of bread and when there was an alleged mysterious assault on your own
person committed by somebody who could not have been in the house at
the time.” Riley showed some anger in his voice.
“You accusin’ me?” Muggs demanded.
“You accused me, didn’t you?”
Verbeck turned away from the window and walked to the table.
“Suppose we cease all accusations,” he said. “I cannot think either of
you would do such a thing. Muggs has demonstrated his loyalty to me
scores of times. You, Riley, owed your start in life to my father, and
have known me since I was a toddling baby. I can’t believe either of
you guilty of this. And yet—there are the facts. Only we three
knew—and the Black Star knew soon afterward. We’ll just call this
another little mystery added to those that have gone before. Eat your
rolls and drink your coffee. We’ll not discuss the matter further
now.”
Riley and Muggs made pretense of eating as Verbeck walked to the door
and went out on the veranda again, but for the most part they glared
at each other across the table, each suspicious of the other
apparently.
The telephone rang, and Verbeck hurried in from the veranda to answer
it. It was the chief speaking.
“Everything all right out there?” he asked. “Good! Say, is that right,
what the papers say about you planning that trap about the necklace?”
“Yes,” Verbeck answered.
“But, how the deuce——”
“I don’t know,” Verbeck interrupted. “There evidently was a leak
somewhere, yet it seems impossible. It’s just one of those things that
cannot be explained.”
“Anything can be explained,” the chief declared. “But we’ll have to
talk of that affair later. I’ve just had a telephone message from the
editor of one of the evening papers. He received a letter from the
Black Star through the morning mail. The Black Star says he is going
to pull off that big crime of his within twenty-four hours. So get on
your toes, you people! I suppose he means to-night.”
“What plans have you made?” Verbeck asked.
“Of course, we have no idea what he is going to do. We’re having
special guards around the largest banks and trust companies. All we
can do is to wait for an alarm. When we get it we can rush to the spot
and take up the trail. We’ll keep in touch with you.”
Again there came that peculiar, rattling noise they had heard once
before while holding a telephone conversation. Both Verbeck and the
chief waited for the voice they knew they would hear.
“Hello!” it said. “This is the Black Star! I’m too busy to talk long,
so please listen—and do not swear over the wire, chief. I have been
listening to your interesting conversation. Make all the preparations
you like, chief, but they’ll avail you nothing. You’ll be sufficiently
startled before daybreak to-morrow morning. I will mention, too, that
I am going to commit this crime myself, without any aid whatever. As
for you, Mr. Roger Verbeck, you will be the laughingstock of the city
to-morrow, so prepare to be ridiculed.”
“Indeed?” Roger said.
“Another thing, Mr. Verbeck. I know every word you have said to
Detective Riley and Muggs this morning. You wrong them, Mr. Verbeck,
with your suspicions. I was but waiting for some one to call you up so
I could break in and tell you so. You see, if I called myself you
might be able to trace the call. Neither of the men, Mr. Verbeck, sent
me information regarding the clever trap you proposed. I just simply
knew. I know everything! Good-by!”
Again the rattling sound, and then Roger Verbeck heard nothing over
the wire except the explosive profanity of the chief of police, who
finally gave the information that he would call again later, and rang
off.
Verbeck turned from the instrument with a beaming face, and hurried
forward to clasp Riley and Muggs by their hands.
“I was a fool to doubt either of you a second,” he said. “The Black
Star has just proved to me that it wasn’t necessary for either of you
to turn traitor.”
“Was that crook on the wire again?” Muggs demanded.
“He certainly was—broke in while I was speaking to the chief. He told
me he knew what I had been saying to you here a very few minutes ago,
and that I was unjust in my suspicions.”
“If either of us were guilty he might say that just to help us out—to
make you think we were all right so we could go on doing his dirty
work,” Riley warned.
“But the fact that he knew our conversation of a few minutes ago shows
he might have heard us speaking yesterday about the trap. I am quite
sure neither of you have had a chance to communicate with him in the
past half hour.”
Riley rose ponderously from the table and crashed a fist down on it.
“Then tell me,” he said, “how this crook knows what we say here in
this room!”
“I wish I knew!”
“We’ve searched this house from bottom to top, and he isn’t in it. To
hear what we said he’d either have to be in the basement under us or
in an adjoining room, and then he couldn’t hear half of it. This thing
gets my goat!”
“Then here is something that’ll please you, Riley. The Black Star has
sent another letter to a paper, so the chief told me, saying he’s
going to commit this big crime of his within the next twenty-four
hours. I suppose he means during the night some time.”
“Then we’ll get on his trail!” Riley shouted. “We won’t have to work
in the dark any more. At least we’ll know where to start. He’s got to
come out of hiding to commit a crime, and we can trail him from where
he pulls it off!”
“Yes, and where will that be?” Muggs asked.
“Wherever it is, we’ll have something to start on. I just want a
start—that’s all! That crook’s going too far with his mysterious black
stars and his telephone stunts and mind-reading performances! He’ll
make a slip! Never a crook lived that didn’t make a slip some time!”
“I’d like to know how those stars got on that loaf and how I got
tapped on the head!” Muggs announced. “That Black Star must be able to
make himself invisible!”
Riley snorted.
“He’s a human man, and that’s all there is to it—a clever, human man!”
the detective declared. “And we’re clever, human men! We’ll get him!
And he’ll be visible enough when we do! There never was a mystery that
didn’t have a common, everyday solution, if a man’s wise enough to
know how to look at things. Twenty-four hours, eh? Some time to-night?
We’ll be crazy before he pulls off his trick—crazy from waiting!
You’re sure that roadster is loaded with gas, Verbeck?”
“I’m sure, Riley. Every officer in town knows that roadster, and the
chief has issued orders that we are to be allowed to smash all speed
limits if we see fit.”
“Then all we can do is wait—wait for the alarm. It may come in ten
minutes, and it may come at two o’clock to-morrow morning. And waitin’
is the worst thing I do!”
The day passed, every hour seeming an age. Muggs cooked the evening
meal with head cocked for the sound of the telephone bell. Riley paced
the floor, looking at his automatic and handcuffs every half hour.
Verbeck smoked innumerable cigars and betrayed nervousness in
innumerable ways.
Nine o’clock came and passed—ten—eleven. Midnight struck!
The telephone rang!
Verbeck reached the instrument in two bounds, and Muggs and Riley were
close behind him, ready for a dash, Muggs with his hand on the
doorknob.
“Hello!” Verbeck cried.
“Hello! Hello! Mr. Verbeck?”
It was a woman’s voice, one that Verbeck never had heard before, an
excited woman’s voice.
“This is Mr. Verbeck.”
“Listen! I may not have a chance to repeat! Do you want to locate the
Black Star before he commits his crime? Do you want to learn why he
has heard everything you’ve said there?”
“Who is this?” Verbeck tried to control his voice and speak in a
matter-of-fact way.
“Never mind my name. I have a reason for what I am now doing. You must
act quickly. Take all the help you can get. You have police there—take
them all!”
“Yes; but what——”
“Listen, please! I will not have a chance to telephone again. Look
around your living room. Look at the center leg of your table. And
then—follow the wire! All the help you can get—act quickly—and follow
the wire!”
And the unknown woman rang off.
Verbeck whirled to the others, speaking rapidly, starting back across
the room toward the table. With Muggs and Riley beside him, he went
down on his knees to investigate the center leg. Riley was the
fortunate one. An exclamation of disgust escaped him.
“Boobs! Boobs! That’s what we are! A common, everyday dictograph disk!
And we never thought of it! Look!”
He pointed to the bit of metal.