she scarcely crept through the water. Closer and closer she slipped to
the shore, inside the shadows of large warehouses. She passed the end
of a street, went in closer, and came finally to the alley. Silently
the men lashed her to piling there.
The two taxicabs were waiting, and the transfer to them took but a few
minutes. With curtains up, they crept to the mouth of the alley,
turned into a street, and sped along it toward the business district.
There was nothing unusual in the appearance of the taxicabs. A score
of police officers would have glanced at them once, and then turned
away. Repeatedly they were held up at crossings by the theater and
café crowds passing. They were caught in traffic jams, but their
chauffeurs puffed at cigarettes and waited nonchalantly until they
could go ahead.
They reached the front of the building where the Knights of Certainty
had their hall, but did not stop there. They went into the alley and
pulled up at a little side door. One of the men got out, rapped on the
door, and gave a password when a slot in it was opened. The Black Star
and his men got out, glanced around, carried their prisoners from the
cabs, and went into the building. The door was closed again; the two
taxicabs drove away.
An elevator made two trips to the third floor, and the Black Star and
his men entered the lodge hall. Guards took up the positions that had
been assigned to them. The doors were bolted securely; the windows had
been fitted with opaque glass and heavy curtains.
“Well, here we are,” the Black Star said. “Mask, gentlemen! Now bring
our prisoners back to life, and we’ll let them see how easy it is to
take money.”
While his orders were being obeyed the master criminal went to one of
the walls and pressed against a certain spot there. A section of the
wall swung out, and in the aperture a masked man stood.
“Everything all right?” the Black Star asked.
“All safe, sir,” came the reply.
“The watchmen——”
“Not a hitch there, sir; they are all unconscious and our men in their
places. We have reported regular for four hours, and not a suspicion
at headquarters or they’d have investigated before this. The patrolman
on the beat even looked in at a window once and waved at our man on
the first floor.”
“Excellent!” the Black Star said, rubbing his hands in satisfaction.
He walked back to the end of the room. His prisoners were revived now
and had been placed side by side in chairs before one of the curtained
windows in the rear of the hall.
“Ah, Mr. Verbeck and Mr. Muggs!” the master criminal smirked. “You are
conscious again, then? ’Twas a pity you didn’t see the little fight we
had with the police. I’d tell you all about it, but we haven’t the
time to spare, and you can read about it in to-morrow’s papers. Well,
here you are in the hall of the Knights of Certainty. You see the
aperture in the wall? My mechanics have arranged a passageway between
the walls of the two buildings. We have a sort of glorified
dumb-waiter, and by its use can descend to the first floor of the
National Trust Company’s building. Simple, eh? I regret I cannot
explain the method we are going to use to get into the burglar-proof
vaults. Did it become public property, the manufacturers might invent
some means of counteracting it. Kindly sit still, gentlemen, while I
have my men prepare the way.”
He deliberately turned his back and walked to the center of the hall
again and called his men to him, all except the guards near the doors.
He issued instructions, and two men hurried to the aperture in the
wall and disappeared. The Black Star was the commanding general now,
and his followers were eager to obey.
For fifteen minutes perhaps he paced the floor, glancing at his
prisoners now and then, and often stopping to issue some whispered
instruction. Then one of the men he had sent below returned.
“All ready, sir,” he reported.
“The vaults are opened?” the Black Star asked.
“Yes, sir, and every strong box. All you have to do is take out the
swag, sir.”
“The suit cases are there and ready?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Two of you carry Mr. Verbeck to the dumb-waiter, and we’ll descend
with him,” the master criminal commanded. “Sorry I cannot take you at
the same time, my dear Muggs, but the capacity of our dumb-waiter is
limited. I’ll have you taken below before we are through, though. In
the meantime, sit calmly on your chair.”
He laughed as he turned toward the aperture in the wall, laughed again
as two of his men carried the bound and gagged prisoner as if he had
been a log of wood, and chuckled as he saw the anger flashing in
Muggs’ eyes. The Black Star, his helpless prisoner, and his two men
disappeared, and the aperture in the wall was closed.
Those who remained glanced at Muggs, but did not approach him, and
made no offer to taunt him. They left that to the Black Star. All
except the guards at the two doors and one who peered through a slit
in the curtain at a front window, gathered in the middle of the room
and spoke in whispers.
Muggs tugged at his bonds for the hundredth time, and realized that he
had been bound well. There was no hope of slipping from these ropes.
Here was no broken glass upon which he could saw the ropes, as Roger
Verbeck had done once. Nor could he manage to get his fingers into a
hip pocket and extract a knife that opened with a touch of the thumb
and cut his bonds with that as he had done once before when in the
Black Star’s hands. Back at the master criminal’s headquarters he had
been searched and his knife taken from him.
He racked his brain for an idea that would lead to release, and could
think of none. On the first floor of the adjoining building, he
guessed, the Black Star and his men were filling suit cases with the
wealth of the National Trust Company, and a helpless and raging
prisoner was being forced to watch the crime and endure the taunts of
the Black Star at the same time. If only he could be free and have a
good automatic in his hand——
He glanced at the Black Star’s men again; they were not even looking
in his direction; they knew well, he supposed, that he could not make
a move. He could only sit in the chair against the curtained rear
window and look straight ahead, absolutely helpless.
He imagined that he could hear a slight noise outside the window, but
it was not repeated. If he could have seen, he would have noticed that
the point of a sharp knife pierced the heavy curtain directly behind
him, and where none in the room could see. Working slowly, cutting an
inch at a time, that knife made a slit half a foot long.
Then Muggs heard the slightest suggestion of a whisper.
“Muggs! We’re here to help, but must move carefully. I’m going to cut
your ropes and slip you a gun. Hold your arms tight so the ropes won’t
fall away until you’re ready. Steady now!”
Muggs might have shrieked his happiness had not the gag prevented. He
didn’t pretend to know the owner of the voice, and he didn’t care
much, so that it was a friend. One thing he did know—it was not the
voice of Roger Verbeck. And it was not the voice of old Detective
Riley, who had helped Muggs and Verbeck several times in their effort
to take the Black Star. It was a strange voice, but welcome for all
that.
Muggs felt a knife sawing at the ropes that bound his wrists together
behind him. He caught the ends as the ropes were severed, and held
them so that they would not drop away and alarm the Black Star’s men
before his feet were free.
The knife was working on the ropes that bound his feet now. It was
slow and tedious work, and at times the knife was still. Finally Muggs
felt the last rope give, and he heard the whisper again.
“I’m going to slip you an automatic. Stick ’em all up and hold ’em
while we break in behind you. If we make a false move we’ll lose. Is
the Black Star still below? Wiggle your fingers if he is.”
Muggs wiggled his fingers by way of answer, and almost immediately he
felt the butt of an automatic pressed against his palm.
“Now!” the voice whispered.
None of the criminals were facing Muggs. He stretched his arms and
legs once to restore circulation, and then sprang from his chair.
“Hands up!” he shrieked, and leveled the automatic.
Every man in the room whirled to face him at that command. One reached
for a weapon, and Muggs shot over his head. Behind him the window was
shattered, and there was a sudden commotion as half a dozen uniformed
policemen, a lieutenant at their head, tumbled into the lodge hall
with guns held ready.
“Keep ’em up!” the lieutenant warned.
Another of the Black Star’s men reached for a gun, and the sergeant
dropped him. Another darted quickly across the room, and the bullet
that went in his direction missed its mark. He reached the wall—and
the light switch.
The lights went out.
CHAPTER XXXI—IN THE BANK
The forces were about even, and these men of the Black Star’s
organization whom he had taken into his inner circle, and, in a
measure, into his confidence could be expected to put up a brave fight
to save themselves and their master from capture or death. They knew
how the public regarded the Black Star and his band; they knew what a
jury would do to any one of them who stood in the prisoner’s dock, and
that the judge would give the limit of imprisonment to any declared
guilty.
So, as the lights went out, there came a scattered volley from the
criminals, who had darted to different parts of the lodge hall. Muggs
and most of the policemen, however, anticipating that volley, had
thrown themselves flat on the floor, and they fired at the flashes and
changed their positions quickly.
Again volleys were exchanged, and shrieks of pain told that some of
the bullets had found human marks. The lieutenant was bellowing his
commands, urging his men to guard doors and windows. In the darkness
it was impossible to tell policeman from criminal, and both sides
ceased firing.
There came a rush, and some of the Black Star’s men reached the door
that opened into the hall and threw it open. They were met by a stream
of light from the corridor, and saw more policemen standing there
awaiting them, their weapons held ready; there was no escape that way.
The light made it possible for the police to shoot again, and two of
the criminals went to the floor badly wounded. Others ran to the front
windows, but there was no way of escape there, for it was three
stories to the ground; nor could they reach the rear windows and fire
escape, for the police were on guard there.
They were cornered in the lodge hall, and knew it. To each of them
came the thought that prison was better than death—for no murder was
charged against the Black Star’s band. And they had faith in their
master and his organization—arrest did not mean prison necessarily.
“Throw down them guns, or take it!” the lieutenant commanded.
One of the Black Star’s lieutenants groaned, threw down his gun, and
put up his hands. Then the others followed his example. They couldn’t
understand how the police happened to be there—the Black Star had
almost always managed to lead them astray before. They began wondering
how it fared with the Black Star and the others on the floor below.
“Once too often this gang has tried to put over something!” the
lieutenant said as his men snapped handcuffs on the crestfallen
criminals. “We’ve got you this time, and you’ll do a long stretch
each.”
“We was only holdin’ a meetin’,” one of the men replied.
“Yeh? I know all about that meetin’. Masks on your faces, and the
Black Star and some more down in the bank, and Muggs bound and gagged
in a chair—and you was only holdin’ a meetin’. Down to the wagon you
go now, and straight to the hoosgow!”
Muggs was not listening to this tirade of the lieutenant’s. No sooner
had he seen that the battle was over than he had raced across the hall
to the wall where the Black Star had touched a hidden button and
caused an aperture to show there. He pressed the wall frantically, but
with no result. He covered every square inch of it near where he had
seen the Black Star put his hand, but no opening appeared.
“Needn’t waste time there, Muggs, if you want to get to that Verbeck
man of yours,” he heard the sergeant saying. “There’s some trick about
it, of course, or it wouldn’t belong to the Black Star. We were
outside the window on the fire escape, and saw him open that, and
heard what he said. So we’ll just guard this end here, in case they
should open it and try to come up. The lower floor is guarded, too,
and they’ll be mixing things there in a minute; they’re waitin’ until
Black Star gets his hands on some money and stuff. We want to get him
with the goods, see? Men all around the block, too—a mouse couldn’t
get away. We’ve got him this time!”
“How’d you know?” Muggs demanded.
“Don’t ask me! Some tip to the chief—and it sure was a correct tip.
Two thirds of the night relief is scattered around this block right
now. Here’s where we clean up. By George, I’m sorry you and Verbeck
didn’t do it!”
“Didn’t we?” Muggs snarled.
“You wouldn’t have done much, I guess, bound and gagged the way you
were—just been left here for another joke. Nope! The police get the
credit for this—the police and whoever tipped this off. One of the
Black Star’s men did it, I suppose—some one that was sore at him for
something.”
“Guess again!” Muggs snarled. He didn’t fancy this belittling of Roger
Verbeck by a lieutenant of police.
He turned and hurried across the hall and into the corridor, and sped
down the stairs. He wanted to get around to the other side of the
block and see what was transpiring in the National Trust Company’s
building. He had forgotten the fantastic robe in which the Black Star
had dressed him, and the laughter of one of the policemen in the hall
brought it to mind. Muggs tore the robe off and growled his
imprecations, and ran on as the policeman laughed again.
At the entrance to the building an officer held him up with leveled
weapon, not being sure of his identity. Muggs lost time until another
lieutenant appeared who knew him and ordered his release. He reached
the street, sprinted for the corner, darted around it, and reached the
front of the bank.
Everything seemed quiet there. Half a dozen policemen were standing on
the sidewalk, and there seemed no commotion inside.
“Why don’t you get in? Why don’t you do something?” Muggs wanted to
know. “Standin’ here like dummies that ain’t got——”
“Easy there, man!” one of them replied. “We’re doin’ something, all
right. You just wait here with us until we get the signal.”
“Wait nuthin’!” Muggs exclaimed. “I’m goin’——”
“Wait, Muggs! We know the Black Star is in there and what he’s doing,
and we know he’s got Verbeck in there. Take it easy—we’ve got it
planned and we’ll get him with the goods.”
“You’ll let him get away with half of what’s in the vaults, that’s
what you’ll do!” Muggs stormed. “I’ve seen that gent work before. You
just let me get in there! I’ve got a score or two to settle with him!”
“You’ll have to wait——”
He was interrupted by the blast of a whistle. Instantly the officers
were active. They sprang to the big double doors of the bank and
crashed them open and tumbled inside. Others who came running took up
their stations outside to watch every exit. Muggs was the second man
through the front door.
It was dark inside, save where some light came through the windows
from the street. The police flashed their torches and charged through
the main room and into the office section. They tumbled over low
partitions and scrambled over tables and desks and chairs, working
their way back of the cages toward the vaults.
There had been officers stationed inside the building before the Black
Star and his men arrived to begin operations, and they were in the
front of the charge. It had been the chief of police who had given the
signal on the whistle. Through a glass partition he had watched
proceedings until what he judged was the right moment to act. He was
eager to catch the master criminal with loot in his hands, to get such
evidence that there would be no possibility of a mistrial or
acquittal.
There was the sound of crashing glass as the partitions went down.
There was a loud command for the Black Star and his men to throw up
their hands and surrender.
There came a deafening crash, and a cloud of vapor rolled toward the
police. Some inhaled it and fell; others, guessing what it meant,
tried to hold breath until it passed, though it half blinded them and
made their eyes smart and torrents of tears run from them.
Over the noise and confusion rang the mocking laugh of the Black Star.
Through the gas cloud they could see him retreating, shielding himself
with the body of his bound and gagged prisoner. Three men who
retreated before him carried two heavy suit cases between them.
Shots rang out, but none fell. Those of the police who had not been
rendered unconscious by the gas bomb charged again. They saw the Black
Star back into a little side corridor, saw him hesitate a moment by
the wall, put his hand against it, and saw an opening appear.
Through this opening his men darted. He stepped into it himself, still
using his prisoner as a shield. Then the opening closed.
“We’ve got him—got him!” the chief cried. “Our men are watching the
top of that between-the-walls business he built, and we are watching
the bottom. He can’t get out. He’ll give up or he’ll stay there and
starve. And if he doesn’t give up mighty quick we’ll go in after him.”
Muggs grasped the chief by the arm and opened his mouth to speak, but
the chief was quicker.
“I know, Muggs,” he said. “The scoundrel’s got Verbeck in there. But
we’ll get ’em—and I don’t think he’ll hurt Verbeck.”
CHAPTER XXXII—A NARROW ESCAPE
When the Black Star had entered the aperture in the lodge hall, and
the panel closed behind him, he flashed his electric torch around the
interior of a space about five feet long and three wide.
“Notice our ingenuity, Mr. Verbeck,” he said. “Here we have
constructed, as I remarked, a sort of dumb-waiter between the walls of
the two buildings. It took considerable time, and great care was
necessary, but the job will be profitable for all that. Every bit of
material had to be smuggled into the lodge hall, but we did it without
the stupid police suspecting anything was wrong.
“I am sorry that I cannot remove your mask and gag and discuss this
bit of work with you, but you might shriek and call down our foes.
Kindly give me your close attention now. You see this small cable
running through the corner? I pull on it like this—similar to the
old-fashioned elevators, you see. And down we go!”
The little box arrangement crept downward slowly as the Black Star
chuckled his satisfaction. There was not the slightest noise; the
holes even had been greased so the cable would slip through silently.
Inch by inch the box descended. It was insufferably hot, and the air
was bad. None spoke a word until the descent of the box stopped, and
then the Black Star turned to his prisoner again.
“We are at the bottom,” he said. “You see this small button here? It
is connected with an electric light signal that we installed, and when
I press it a certain number of times it conveys a meaning to one of my
men in the bank. The little bulb light, I assure you, is cunningly
hidden. You see, I am prepared for everything, Mr. Verbeck. Perhaps
that is why I am so successful.”
He reached out and pressed the button. There was a wait of half a
minute, and then a green bulb glowed in the top of the box.
“Ah, the coast is clear!” the Black Star said. “We are about to take a
fortune in money and securities from the strongest bank in the city,
Mr. Verbeck, from a bank that boasts its vaults cannot be opened by
burglars.”
The Black Star chuckled again, and then pressed against the wall. An
opening showed before them, and one of the Black Star’s men stood just
outside, masked.
“All ready, sir,” he reported. “The suit cases are on a table before
the vault’s door and you have only to open that door and step inside.”
“The watchmen are on duty?”
“In front on the two upper floors, sir, and in the rear on this floor
at this time. He has to punch his report box there in ten minutes.”
“Guard the corridor, then. I want only the three men with me in the
vault room. Should there be trouble, use the back exit, and leave this
for me and those working with me.”
He stepped out as he ceased speaking, and the men behind him carried
the prisoner between them as they had on the floor above. They were in
a narrow side corridor that ran from the offices to an alley
entrance—an entrance used by directors when they attended a meeting,
and by bank officials when they desired to get out of the building
without seeing some undesirable.
Along this narrow corridor they walked slowly, bending low when they
came to a place where light came through the windows from the street.
They opened a door and passed through an office, opened another door,
and were in the vault room.
“Put Mr. Verbeck in that chair at the end of the table and facing the
door of the vault,” the Black Star whispered to his men. “I want him
to have the privilege of watching operations. Then, when we are done,
we’ll pin a nice little note to his breast, put him to sleep, go away,
and telephone the stupid police to come here and find him. And then
the public can have a laugh.”
His men obeyed him, and the Black Star turned to the door of the
vault. He chuckled again as he reached a hand forward, grasped the
handle, and swung the heavy door open. He looked back at his prisoner
and waved a hand in derision, and then stepped into the vault.
The others could see his torch flash, and presently he came out.
“A very good haul, I imagine,” he announced, and began piling packages
of bank notes into one of the suit cases. “I am gathering the big
bills—haven’t time to bother with such things as fives and tens at
first. Perhaps, if we have time, I’ll take a few packages for the men.
Now for some more.”
Six trips he made into the vault, and each time he came out with his
arms filled with bundles of bank notes, which he put into the suit
case. On the seventh trip he carried two bags of gold coins and put
one in the first suit case and locked it, and then threw the second
sack in a corner of the second suit case.
Securities were the next things he went after. He filled the second
suit case with bonds, even stopping to flash his torch over them and
discard those of small value or such as would not be easily
negotiable.
“You see how simple it is, Mr. Verbeck, when a man with brains plans
things?” he asked. “Quite a bit of wealth here, what? More than many
ordinary men would earn during their lifetimes. And I take it as an
evening’s diversion, after some weeks of preparation, of course, and
make it, instead of a lifetime’s work, only one bit of work out of
many good ones. I am going to make one more trip. I have heard of a
certain diamond necklace that is kept in this vault, and I want it, if
it can be found quickly. If I do not get it to-night I’ll have to rob
this place again, and I have made it a rule heretofore never to strike
twice in the same place.”
Even his own men marveled at the man’s composure. Here he was robbing
the strongest financial institution in the city, entering a vault
considered impregnable, and without showing the slightest nervousness.
Apparently he was in no great hurry to get away. He might have been a
man in his own home, showing his friends treasures taken from a
private safe.
Then came the sound of a distant shot, the sound of breaking glass, a
man’s shriek. The Black Star hurried from the vault and stood
listening, and the faint light from the street showed that there was
some concern in his countenance. One of the watchmen came running in
from the corridor.
“The red signal!” he exclaimed. “The signal from the lodge hall!”
“Quietly, quietly, my man,” the master criminal said. “Nothing ever is
gained by getting into a sweat when quick thinking is necessary. Give
the signal and go out the rear way—all of you.”
“But you, sir?”
“I’ll take care of myself—go! Undoubtedly those fools upstairs are
frightened at nothing.”
But a fusillade of shots from the lodge hall above gave the lie to his
words.
“Something appears to be wrong,” he said. “I suppose we may as well
get out of here and into our between-the-walls box. Pick up the suit
cases, men. I am sure I don’t imagine what has happened. There is no
way in which the police could have been informed. If you were not my
prisoner now, Mr. Verbeck—but you are, and so is Muggs. I was going to
bring Muggs down here and leave him with you, but he’ll have to miss
this share of the fun, I think. One moment, Mr. Verbeck, until I
decorate your breast with a sarcastic note.”
He reached in his pocket and brought forth the note he had prepared,
and stepped toward the prisoner, reaching to his lapel for a pin.
“We’d better hurry,” one of his men suggested.
“Are you afraid, when I am here beside you?” the Black Star demanded.
“Such a man has no place in an organization like mine.”
“I’m afraid for you, sir—that’s all.”
“Your solicitude for my welfare overwhelms me. Start on, my man, and
I’ll be with you almost instantly.”
The three men started toward the door with the suit cases. The Black
Star bent forward to pin the note on the breast of the man before him.
And then the chief’s whistle came.
With the crashing in of the front door of the bank, the Black Star was
a changed man. He grasped his prisoner by the shoulders, jerked him
from the chair, and dragged him across the room to the office door.
Through the offices police poured in upon him. His hand dived into his
pocket, and came forth, holding a round object about the size of a
tennis ball. He hurled it on the floor in front of the advancing foes.
There was a roar as the bomb struck, a hiss as the cloud of vapor
spread. The Black Star laughed mockingly, and backed toward the wall,
shielding himself behind his helpless prisoner’s body. He touched the
wall, and the opening appeared. He went in, still carrying his
prisoner, and in the little box he laughed again, aloud, and tugged at
the cable.
“Quite a bit of excitement, Mr. Verbeck,” he observed. “But here we
are, safe and sound, and with the suit cases filled with loot. Now I
wonder what brought those police down upon us. I suppose I’ll have to
go through my organization and ask a few questions. And if there is
such a thing as a traitor—ha!”
He tugged at the cable again, and the box ascended.
“Listen to the poor fools pounding on the wall!” he exclaimed. “They
will have difficulty, I imagine, finding how that opening is caused.
You notice, my dear Mr. Verbeck, that when I opened it either above or
below, I press the wall with my hand. That is merely a trick, should
some one be observing too closely. As I do that, I touch the real
spring with the toe of my shoe. Men can press with their hands all day
and not find it.”
CHAPTER XXXIII—PUZZLED POLICE
As he ceased speaking, the Black Star turned suddenly and gave his
prisoner a shot from the vapor gun. His own men evidently had guessed
what was coming, for they turned their faces away, and each held a
small sponge to his nostrils, for in that close space the vapor seemed
twice as heavy.
“Quick, now!” the master criminal instructed his men. “I don’t know
how it happens that the police came down on us, but they’re here, and
I suppose the block is surrounded. We can’t go up, and we can’t go
down—yet. The men upstairs must have been overcome, since the fighting
has stopped, and the bank is full of police. So we’ll try the halfway
station.”
He tugged at the cable, and the car stopped. He flashed his torch on
the wall, and then pulled the cable again and forced the car to ascend
as slowly as possible, while he looked closely at the wall.
“Here’s the scratch we made,” he said finally, and stopped the box. He
pressed against the wall, and a new aperture showed. “In with you,” he
instructed, “and don’t forget the loot.”
The three men stepped past him and into a tiny room that had been
constructed between the walls, halfway from the first floor to the
third. The Black Star followed, turned to tug at the cable and send
the box on to the top of the shaft, and then closed the opening and
turned to face his three men and his unconscious prisoner.
“Here we are!” he said. “Speak in whispers now, and we’ll be all
right. We have some ventilation here, and you may smoke if you wish.
This little room was connected with an airshaft in the building,
you’ll remember. You see what forethought does? I had this constructed
just for such an emergency. The percentage of chance was against it
ever being needed, but I thought it better to take no chance, and you
see what it has meant. That is why I always win. I prepare for every
possible contingency.”
The police, at that moment, were trying it. Down below, the chief was
ordering his men to hammer through the wall, since they were unable to
find the spring that released the panel. Those above had been
unsuccessful in their search for the spring, too, and both above and
below officers were smashing at the wall with axes, trying to cut
their way through.
Down in the bank, Muggs was raging.
“I knew you’d let him get away!” he cried. “I knew it!”
“We’ve got him trapped,” the chief answered.
“How do you know it? Ain’t you got some respect for the Black Star’s
schemes by this time?”
“We’ll get him—you’re worrying about Verbeck, that’s all. I don’t
think he’ll hurt your boss.”
“The Black Star’ll get out some way!”
“Take it easy, Muggs,” the chief advised. “We’ve got the entire block
surrounded. Every door and window is being watched. Why, I’ve even got
men watching the sewer connections. Not a rat could get out of this
block without being seen and caught.”
“Yeh? We had him surrounded in a house once out on the river, and
didn’t he get to the roof and streak it away in an aëroplane?”
“Well, you may be sure he hasn’t any plane on the roof of this
building, Muggs. He couldn’t have driven it here and landed—he’d have
been smashed to bits, and, besides, some one would have heard or seen
him. An aëroplane makes a noise. And he didn’t have any on the roof at
supper time, because one of the watchmen we found bound and gagged
lives up there, and he just told me he’d seen nothing suspicious.
We’ve got him in a trap, I tell you.”
The wall crashed in, and the men fell back, half expecting to face a
fight with the Black Star and his men. But their torches showed them a
dark shaft running up between the walls and a cable in one corner of
it, and that was all.
They cleared away the debris. Up in the lodge hall the other policemen
smashed through the wall, too, and sent a shower of bricks and plaster
down. Through the shaft they held conversation with those below.
“That box business is up here, chief, but she’s empty,” one of the men
called.
“What’s that—empty?”
“Not a sign of anybody in it or anything. It was at the top of the
shaft.”
The chief sputtered a moment in impotent rage, and then shouted his
orders up the shaft.
“Two or three of you get into that blamed thing and come down, and you
examine the walls every inch of the way. Keep your torches going and
have your guns ready. I tell you they’ve got to be in the shaft
somewhere!”
Then he stepped back and waited. The cable moved, and by glancing into
the shaft the chief and his men could see that the box was descending
slowly. The chief turned to send a captain outside to warn the men who
surrounded the block that closer watch was to be kept.
“They’re in this block—and they can’t get out without being nabbed!”
he declared.
And then the box struck the bottom of the shaft, and with a sigh of
relief a lieutenant and two men crawled out.
“Not a thing!” he reported. “We examined every foot of the walls, and
there isn’t a crack nor a hole a mouse could get through. The top of
the shaft is solid wall, and so is the bottom. The Black Star and
three of his men went in there and took Verbeck with them, and they’ve
gone up in smoke or something!”
“You’re a fool!” the chief retorted.
He got in the box himself with two men, and went up and came down
again, and confessed himself bewildered. Reports came in from the
streets that not a person had left the block. The Black Star and the
others, it seemed, had melted into thin air and drifted out and away.
The Black Star at that moment was chuckling softly and assuring
himself that his prisoner was not regaining consciousness. He had used
the vapor gun in the box before reaching this hole in the wall,
because he didn’t want his prisoner to know where he had been. For the
Black Star intended having his little joke.
He and his three men had held their sides to keep from laughing aloud
as the police went up and down the shaft, so close to them at times
that they could hear the muttered curses of the officers.
“The entrance to this little room was the best job of all,” he said.
“They could look right at it and not see it, and, if they did see it,
they couldn’t get in.”
“But we’re due for quite a rest here,” one of his men complained.
“Don’t get nervous,” the master criminal warned. “We are due to get
out of here before daylight, and don’t you forget that. Don’t think
that I intend to stay here all day to-morrow, waiting for to-morrow
night. If we did we might find that the stupid police had sealed up
the bottom and top of the shaft. That’d be lovely, wouldn’t it?”
He chuckled again as his three men shuddered at the thought of being
interred alive. He went to the wall and pressed against it, and the
panel slid back three or four inches. Leaning forward carefully, the
Black Star glanced down.
He could see the flashes of the police torches at the bottom of the
shaft, and he could hear Muggs and the chief in a lively argument.
Glancing up, he saw the flash of a torch at the top. He reached out,
knowing that his hand could not be seen unless several torches were
flashed down the shaft at the same time, and pulled at the cable. The
box began to ascend.
It was halfway to the hole in the wall before the chief noticed it,
and then, thinking the men above were raising it, he shouted for them
to lower it again. While they conversed by shrieks and yells, the
Black Star brought the box opposite the sliding panel and gripped the
cable there.
The men below and the men above tugged at the cable, but the box
remained in place. The Black Star, still chuckling, took pencil and
paper from his pocket and scribbled a note, and pinned it to the
breast of the unconscious man before him. Then he tumbled his prisoner
into the box.
“Go down to your friend, the chief, and mystify him, my dear Mr.
Verbeck,” the Black Star said. “You have not indulged in much action
this evening. I trust the chief will unbind you, and that when you
regain consciousness you’ll join in the chase.”
He chuckled again, tugged at the cable, and sent the box downward, and
then closed the panel and sat down beside his men.
“Listen now, and you’ll hear a roar!” he exclaimed.
“But how are we goin’ to get out, sir?” one of the crooks asked.
“Don’t worry about that. What time is it?”
The man flashed a torch and glanced at his watch.
“It’s almost two o’clock.”
“Ha! Then we’d better get out of here within the hour. It’ll be
daylight by four-thirty, and I want to be back at headquarters before
then. You know how I am going, of course.”
“I know how you’ll go if you get out of here,” the man replied.
“Getting out of here is what is worrying me.”
“Don’t worry—it causes gray hairs. Listen!”
They could hear a commotion at the bottom of the shaft. The box had
reached its destination, and the bound, gagged, and unconscious man
had been seen and taken out.
“It’s Verbeck!” the chief cried. “He’s doped, or something!”
“Vapor gun!” Muggs explained.
“Then they’ve sent him back to us. But where did he come from? Answer
me that! He didn’t come from the top, and there’s no place between
here and the top where he could come from. Unbind him, you men, and
take that gag off. Maybe he can tell us something when he gets rid of
that vapor dope. What’s this—a note?”
One of the men held his torch, and the chief read it swiftly:
Dear Chief: Here is Roger Verbeck safe and sound. Since you
don’t seem able to make very much war against me, perhaps you’ll
revive Verbeck and let him get into the game. I’ve kept him
pretty quiet to-night. I’m sending him to you out of the sky, my
dear chief, you might say. At least, you don’t know where I am
sending him from, and cannot find out. I don’t know how you got
on my trail so swiftly to-night, but it didn’t save the bank
from losing a vast sum, and didn’t help you much, did it?
*****
“If I ever get my two hands on that man he’ll never live to stand
trial!” the chief promised. “Verbeck conscious yet? We’ve got to look
into this business. I tell you the Black Star’s somewhere in this
building. He’s somewhere in that shaft——”
“But he can’t be,” a lieutenant protested. “There isn’t a place in the
shaft where a man could leave the box.”
“Nevertheless——”
“Verbeck’s come to!” one of the men cried.
They knelt beside him, aided him to sit up, tried to get him to talk.
They shot questions at him as bullets come from a machine gun, and he
waved them away.
“Where did they take you, Verbeck?” the chief demanded.
“I—don’t know. I’ve been unconscious——”
“All the time?”
“They did it—just after the box started up. That’s the last I
knew—until now.”
“They’re in that shaft!” the chief cried. “I’m going up again to see!”
CHAPTER XXXIV—WHAT HAPPENED TO THE CHIEF
The head of the police department, knowing that a crowd surrounded the
block now, and that news had gone abroad that the Black Star and some
of his men had been cornered, and that certain newspaper reporters
were standing by and waiting to see whether the police would be made
again to look like fools, grew frantic. Also, his determination to
capture the Black Star increased. He had his men drive every one out
of the bank building and guard the offices and corridors, and, leaving
four men to guard the bottom of the shaft, with two others, he got in
the box and started to ascend.
The Black Star, from his post above, heard the chief issue these
orders, and knew the box was on its upward journey.
“Couldn’t be better,” he told his men. “Only four at the bottom of the
shaft now. You know we have to go, of course? Hurry through the
corridor to the narrow flight of stairs in the rear, and climb!”
“But——” one of his men began.
“Silence, fool. The box is almost opposite us!”
The chief and his two men were ascending slowly, examining every inch
of the walls with their torches. They stopped for a moment just
outside the panel, but evidently saw nothing to make them suspicious,
for the box continued its ascent.
It went on until it was at the top, and there the chief held a
consultation with his men, and examined the lodge hall’s walls, making
certain by questioning the men on guard that it would have been
impossible for the Black Star and his men to have passed through the
room without being seen.
Then the disgusted and sorely angry chief got into the box with his
two officers again and started to descend, more puzzled than before.
The Black Star heard the descent begin, and growled orders to his
three followers. He touched the wall and slipped the panel back three
inches, and thus he waited, one hand ready to close the aperture
instantly, the other holding a vapor gun. Below him one of his men
stretched out on the floor and made ready to grip the cable when the
master criminal gave the word.
The box continued to descend. The chief was speaking of the futility
of examining the walls again. He was going to double the guard around
the block, he declared, and wait for daylight, and go through the
buildings inch by inch until he found the Black Star. The master
criminal’s men, all but the three with him, had been accounted for,
and now were in cells at police headquarters, he was saying.
The Black Star hissed a warning to the man on the floor. The box came
directly opposite the aperture in the wall. The man on the floor
gripped the cable and stopped it, and as he did so the Black Star’s
vapor gun worked. Three times he pressed the trigger, filling the box
with stupefying gas. The chief was the first to topple forward; the
other two were unconscious almost instantly.
The Black Star and his men staggered backward, holding the little
sponges to their nostrils. The air cleared, and then the master crook
opened the panel to its greatest extent, and hauled the chief of
police and his two men inside the little room.
“Lively now,” the Black Star commanded. “Only four men at the bottom,
remember, and there are three of us. I’ll hurl a vapor bomb as soon as
we get to the bottom, and you be ready with your guns. I’ll take one
of those suit cases. Number Ten, you take the other. And you, Number
Six, make sure of at least two of the men at the bottom, if you can.”
They got into the box and started it downward, leaving the chief and
his two men in the halfway room. They mumbled a conversation so that
the men below would hear it and think nothing was wrong.
Foot by foot they drew nearer the bottom of the shaft. Finally the box
jarred and stopped.
A bomb crashed at the feet of the four men standing less than half a
dozen paces away; the cloud of vapor surged at them as the Black Star
and his three men sprang out. Vapor guns flashed—and the four
criminals rushed through the narrow corridor toward the rear stairs.
They had not hoped to get away without an uproar being raised, and
they did not. Two of the four guards shrieked as they fell, and other
policemen came running from the front of the bank. They arrived in
time to see their comrades falling and to see four dusky shapes
running down the corridor. Their revolvers spoke, and the Black Star
and his men once more found themselves in the midst of a leaden hail.
As they got to the bottom of the stairs one of the men stumbled and
fell, coughing because of the wound he had received.
The Black Star and the other two had no time to stop. It was an axiom
of the master criminal’s organization that every man should care for
himself in such an emergency. “Get away with the loot!” was the motto.
A man arrested would be bailed out or aided to escape from prison by
the organization, if possible—but the others of the organization were
waiting to share the loot and could not be denied for the sake of a
single man.
So the three ran on, springing up the stairs two at a time, reaching
the second floor and going on to the third. Behind them came the
determined pursuit. Outside in the streets other officers heard the
commotion, and prepared for a dash on the part of the crooks. The
Black Star hurled another vapor bomb, and checked the pursuit for a
moment, but not for long.
They were on the fourth floor now, and they could tell by the sounds
that officers were rushing up the broad stairs in front. The Black
Star was glad that the elevators were not running. Had they been, he
could have made a swifter get-away, but also the pursuit would have
been closer.
Now they were panting because of their exertion, but did not slacken
their pace. The fifth floor was reached, and half a dozen policemen
dashed down a hallway at them. Once more there came a fusillade of
bullets—and another of the Black Star’s men fell. There remained only
himself and one other now—but they kept hold of the two suit cases
filled with loot.
The top floor was above them, and they reached it only by hurling two
more vapor bombs. They rushed along a hallway toward the front of the
building now. They came to where a curving iron stairway led to the
roof, and up this they rushed, exposed to the shots of the police as
they came into view.
The Black Star threw his last bomb. The man behind him staggered and
fell, but was upon his feet again instantly. He gasped that he had not
been wounded, had only tripped on the edge of a step. They reached the
little door at the top, threw it open, and dashed out on the roof. The
door was slammed behind them, bolted, and barred. The bars constituted
another of the Black Star’s preparations against emergencies—his men
had affixed them the last thing that evening.
On the other side the police crashed against the little door, fired
into it, and then realized that it was a metal, fireproof door, and
proof against their bullets. It was another case where axes would be
necessary.
It took several minutes to send word down and get axes from below, and
then the assault on the door began. They took turns working at it, for
this was no easy task. Finally the hinges gave a trifle, and they
redoubled their blows, while others behind them got ready to give
battle. The word spread below rapidly—the Black Star and one of his
men were on the roof, trapped. They would be prisoners or dead soon
now. If the police could not get at them through the door, then the
fire department would be called, ladders would be raised, and they
would be reached that way.
The door gave again; some of the police cheered. With revolvers held
ready, they waited for the blow that would hurl the door to the roof
and let them through.
The door crashed—and a roaring filled their ears. A gust of wind swept
back against them. Something dark showed against the sky. They heard a
mocking laugh.
“His aëroplane, curse him!” a sergeant cried in anger. “There he
goes!”
Again they heard the laugh. They fired in the air, knowing as they did
that their target already was beyond reach. The beating of the
aëroplane’s engine grew fainter.
The sergeant stepped to the flagpole at the corner of the roof and
took from it a bit of paper that had been fastened there. He read it,
then put it in his pocket to give his chief. And this is what he read:
Farewell, gentlemen. You gave me a run for my money to-night,
battered up some good men of mine, and took others prisoner, but
I have triumphed in the end.
Perhaps you wonder how the aëroplane happened to be here on the
roof, where it could not possibly have landed, though it can
take off from here. Why, it was carried up from the lodge hall
in sections to-night after the building watchmen had been
disposed of and my men took charge, and expert mechanics worked
hard to assemble it. I had not expected to use it, but found it
necessary. It was another emergency for which I was prepared.
Always prepare for emergencies and never make mistakes, and you
may be successful, like me.
By the way, I am getting away with quite a fortune, and with the
place filled with police. Tell that to the papers, and give my
respects to Roger Verbeck and Muggs.
*****
“Got away—got away with th’ goods,” the sergeant muttered. “Oh,
heavens! What will th’ public say to this? They’ll clean out the
department from the chief to th’ office boy!”
CHAPTER XXXV—AN UNEXPECTED BLOW
The Black Star took his aëroplane to an altitude of three thousand
feet, circled over the city, and finally started down the river. He
gave all his attention to the machine, and did not even glance at the
man who sat beside him. Far below were the lights of the city where he
had stolen so many fortunes in money and jewels the past six months,
the city he had terrorized, at whose police he had scoffed, and the
home of Roger Verbeck, the young millionaire clubman who had sworn to
capture him.
Well, Verbeck had not captured him, he thought. He had made the young
clubman a laughingstock more than once. He had made his efforts appear
childlike and foolish, and so he was satisfied. For he would have to
leave this particular city now, he knew. His last two adventures had
almost resulted in his downfall. In them he had lost many men,
including his most trusted lieutenants. The man beside him really was
the only one left whom he could trust.
He could afford to retire for a time, and that was what he would do,
he decided. He had ample funds. He would call the remainder of his
band together in a couple of days, at some new headquarters—for he had
a feeling that the present one was dangerous after to-night—give them
their share of the money on hand, and then pack up and get out.
War-ridden Europe did not appeal to him now, but there was Japan and
China and the South Seas. He’d spend a year or so touring around,
taking life easy, enjoying himself, spending his money, and gloating
over some of the magnificent jewels that the band had stolen and which
he had claimed in his share of loot.
When the country had begun to forget the Black Star he’d reappear in
some other city, organize his band again, and start his depredations
anew.
It took the Black Star only a few minutes to decide this. Having
decided it, he felt better. He looked down at the river, and failed to
see any craft.
“I’ll go to headquarters,” the Black Star told his man. “You go on
with the plane and hide it in the usual place back in the woods, and
then get into town. I’ll send you word in the usual way within a
couple of days where to have the men come for their share. I’m going
to give up the present headquarters, for it’ll be dangerous after
to-night, I am afraid. I’ll pack up and get out by noon to-morrow.”
“Verbeck’s roadster is near the front gate,” the man reminded him.
“That’s right—got to get that out of the way before daylight. You go
ahead with the plane, though. I’ll get the suit cases in the house,
and then run the roadster up the road and drive it into the river off
the cliff.”
He turned the plane toward the shore and descended slowly. On reaching
the ground the master criminal tossed the suit cases overboard, then
sprang out himself.
“Good night,” he said.
“Good night, sir.”
The plane, with its engine roaring, took the air. The Black Star
picked up the heavy suit cases and started for the road.
After all, he was thinking, it would be a relief to get away and give
up his dangerous occupation for a time. He hated to admit it even to
himself, but to-night’s business had shaken him. He had almost felt
fear, especially when he had been cornered in the halfway room.
But he had succeeded. He had made a last big haul. He was safe
now—there remained only to leave the headquarters, meet the men, and
distribute some money, and then quit the city for the West and China
and the South Seas. Crime didn’t pay, eh? Well—he had made it pay!
He decided that he’d send a last sarcastic note to the police, the
newspapers, and to Roger Verbeck, just as he left. He chuckled again
now as he thought of Verbeck. It seemed that he had been unable to get
into action to-night. How he would rage when told that the Black Star
had escaped again! How funny little Muggs would snort! How the fat
chief would fuss and fume! Yes—the Black Star had had his fun as well
as his profit!
He reached the gate and passed through it up the drive to the house.
Here he set the suit cases down on the porch and unlocked the front
door. Then he took the loot inside, struck a match, and applied it to
the wick of a lamp. A hasty glance around the room told him that
nothing had been disturbed during his absence. For a moment he stood
in the center of the room and listened and looked about. Then he put
the suit cases on a table.
He threw off hood and mask and overcoat and hat, and opened the suit
cases. Before him were the bundles of bank notes, the two bags of
gold, the packages of securities—a fortune!
He laughed lightly and went to a cupboard and got out crackers and
cheese and a can of fish. He laughed as he ate his simple meal, and
promised himself a gorgeous dinner before another twenty-four hours
had passed.
Having eaten, he put the remainder of the food away, closed the suit
cases again, lifted a trapdoor in the floor beneath a rug, and put the
loot in a hidden box there. He stretched his arms and glanced at his
watch. It would be daylight within the half hour now, and he needed
sleep. He decided that he’d retire and rise in about four hours. Four
hours of sleep would refresh him enough, he decided, for the time
being. He wanted to smuggle himself and his ill-gotten gains into the
city by noon.
Keen eyes watched his every movement through the keyhole in the door
that opened into the adjoining, unused room. The mysterious man who
had trailed the abductors there early in the evening was still in the
house. The hours had seemed doubly long—but he had waited.
He watched the Black Star carefully now. He had made sure that he had
returned to the headquarters alone, and now he was awaiting his
chance. He knew that the Black Star had a couch in the room on the
other side of the headquarters room, and would sleep there if he
decided to go to bed.
He watched him as he removed coat and vest and took off his shoes and
donned a pair of slippers. And then he crept softly across the room,
unlocked the door that led to the hall, and slipped out.
Foot by foot he made his way along the hall, and noiselessly, for he
had removed his shoes. He reached the door of the room where Black
Star slept, and crept inside and went across to the other door, and
there, crouching at one side, he waited.
The Black Star finished undressing and put on a pair of gorgeous
pajamas. Then he turned off the light and started for his couch. He
passed through the door.
And then he gasped in surprise and alarm, tottered, tried to curse,
and fell forward unconscious into the arms of the other man, a victim
of his own vapor gun.
The man who had caused his downfall laughed aloud now and ran to the
lamp to light it again. From a corner he carried ropes and bound the
unconscious man securely. He gagged him, too, and propped him up in a
chair and tied him in it with ropes.
Then he whirled toward the trapdoor beneath the rug, and managed to
get it open. He lifted out the suit cases and other boxes in which
valuables had been stored.
“Money, securities, and jewels!” he said. “I guess I’ll just take care
of these, Mr. Black Star!”
He laughed again, half in relief and half in pure joy, and then he
rushed across to the telephone. For the second time that night he
called a number—the number of police headquarters. And then he gave a
startling message.
CHAPTER XXXVI—IN CUSTODY
When the Black Star opened his eyes he saw a peculiar-looking
individual before him, scarcely half a dozen feet away, who held an
automatic pistol in his hand in a threatening manner. This individual
was dressed in greasy overalls and jumper, and had a soft hat pulled
down low over his forehead. The collar of his jumper was turned up so
that scarcely any of the face could be seen except the eyes. His hands
were dirty; his hair was black and long, and apparently needed cutting
badly.
“Well, I’ve got you, all right!” the individual growled in a hoarse
voice. “Pretty good pickin’ around these diggin’s, too. Notice the
swag I’ve got here on the table?”
He bent forward and tore the gag from the Black Star’s mouth.
“Talk, if you want to,” he offered. “Black Star, eh? Big crook, eh?”
“Who are you?” the Black Star asked.
“What do you care?”
“I am interested. Any man who can put me down and out—and I suppose
you are the one who did it—interests me strangely. So you think I am
the Black Star?”
“I know it.”
“I suppose you want to join my organization and are taking this
melodramatic way to show me you are fitted?”
“Guess again!”
“Well, what is the idea, then? I suppose you realize what you are
running up against when you tackle the Black Star?”
“I know that, all right, and I’m not scared.”
“You’re not very communicative,” said the other. “Suppose you untie me
now, and we’ll talk business. If it is money you want——”
“Why untie you when I’ve got it all right here on the table?”
“Well, what are you going to do?”
“Give you a surprise,” came the answer.
The Black Star saw the man before him straighten up suddenly. His hand
went to his hat, and the hat came off, and with it a black wig. And
then he smiled and bowed.
“Roger Verbeck!” the Black Star gasped.
“At your service, Sir Crook! I said I’d get you, and I have!”
“But—— How did you get here so soon? I saw you back at the National
Trust—as I was leaving.”
“Pardon me, my dear Mr. Black Star. You are not very observing, are
you? How many times have you seen me, spoken to me?”
“Half a dozen, I suppose.”
“But never paid particular attention to me, did you?”
“I never had a chance particularly, as I always saw you under
conditions of excitement.”
“That was one bad mistake you made. You should know me when you meet
me face to face.”
“I know that, all right, but you haven’t answered my question—how did
you get here so quickly, and alone? How did you know where my
headquarters was?”
“Naturally, since I was out to get you, I just discovered that.”
“One of my men turned traitor, I suppose.”
“Indeed, no. I did it all by my own little self, Mr. Black Star. I
said six months ago that I could get you, and you dared me to try. You
went right ahead with your crimes, and you made a fool of me on
several occasions. You always prepared for every possible emergency;
that was it. You never made a mistake. You went ahead on your thieving
way, and I told you that no criminal could be successful for always,
no matter how brainy a man, and that some day you’d make a mistake.
You’ve made one—and now you’re going to pay for it. For you’re going
to jail from here, Mr. Black Star. I’m going to see you in the
prisoner’s dock, as I swore I should. And I’m going to follow you to
the doors of the penitentiary, and see them close behind you. You have
to pay for your career of crime. Every criminal must pay! He may
succeed for a time, but in the end he pays! He can’t dodge the law of
compensation.”
“I’m not in jail yet, Mr. Verbeck.”
“You’ll be there soon. I notice you are slipping your foot along the
floor. I presume you are looking for the button that throws a trap and
opens a pit beneath where I am standing. Might as well give up. I
found that trap several hours ago and wrecked the spring. Oh, I’ve got
you this time, Mr. Black Star!”
“Several hours ago! I don’t understand.”
“You made a mistake, that’s all—a bad and a sad mistake.”
“Suppose you tell me about it.”
“In good time,” Verbeck replied. “I am waiting for some friends of
mine—Muggs and the police and some others.”
“You’ve called the police?”
“To hand you over—yes. How did you escape them to-night? I warned them
what you were going to do.”
“So that’s how they discovered it! But how could you warn them, when I
had you abducted and carried here and had you watched every minute of
the time until—— What do you mean? Explain!”
“You made a bad mistake,” Verbeck reiterated. “That explains
everything. Ah!”
Down the road a siren shrieked. Verbeck deliberately turned his back
on the Black Star, walked through the house and threw open the front
door. Two automobiles splashed through the mud and stopped near the
front gate.
“That you, Verbeck?” some one called.
“Yes. Come right on in!”
He went back and stood before his prisoner again.
“Quick, Verbeck—let me go!” the Black Star begged. “I’ll do anything
you say—let you give them back the stuff——”
“Save your breath!” Verbeck replied.
The crowd rushed in from the road. The chief and Muggs were in the
lead, and half a dozen officers, revolvers in their hands as if they
were expecting another battle, followed at their heels. They stopped
in astonishment when they saw Verbeck.
“Wha-what——” the chief cried.
“No questions!” Verbeck begged, laughing. “Here is the Black Star,
chief, and there is the loot he got to-night, and some jewels he
obtained in other robberies. See that you don’t let him get away this
time! I got him—as I said I would. And where is—— Ah!”
Another man came through the door and stood at Verbeck’s side. Every
man there except Muggs gasped in surprise, and Muggs only grinned.
Here were two Verbecks, alike except that one was an inch shorter than
the other and slightly thinner in the face.
“Here is the explanation, gentlemen,” Verbeck said. “I discovered that
the Black Star was having me shadowed night and day. The men who
shadowed had to report some time, of course. I got the idea that if I
could get some one to take my place I might shadow the Black Star’s
shadow and so find his headquarters. When he threatened three weeks
ago to abduct me and let me witness his next crime, I realized that
here was my chance. Gentlemen, allow me to introduce you to my cousin.
His father and mine married sisters—perhaps that is why we look so
much alike.”
“Your cousin!” the chief gasped.
“He has been living out West. I wrote him full details, and he came on
to help me. I smuggled him into my house and let him take my place. He
went out with Muggs, visited my fiancée in my place, went to my clubs
a bit. Only Muggs was in the secret, for I didn’t want to take a
chance of having that secret leak out. And I shadowed the shadow,
waiting for the abduction, and to-night it came. Mr. Black Star, I
came here on the rear of my own roadster, which carried your
prisoners. I put your watchdog to sleep and entered this house, and
I’ve been here since. I overheard your plans and telephoned the police
as soon as you had left.
“I wanted to be in at the death, of course, but knew I could not get
back to the city in time. And I had a suspicion that you’d escape the
police at the last minute, as you had so many times before—so I
remained here, waiting for you, and when you came I succeeded in
making you my prisoner. While you were gone I examined the house and
found many interesting things.
“In your excitement at planning and carrying out a big crime you made
a mistake, Mr. Black Star—you didn’t use your eyes, didn’t observe
closely. You took my cousin for me. That’s all. And now you must pay!
Oh, yes! I must decorate you as you have often in the past decorated
me.”
He took a bit of paper from his pocket and he pinned it to the Black
Star’s breast while the master criminal sputtered his wrath. It read:
Mr. Black Star: Never depend on the eyes of others but use your
own. Because Muggs drove a roadster and my cousin looks like me,
your men took it for granted that my cousin was me, and you let
it go at that. That was your mistake.
Roger Verbeck.
“Now, chief, take your man,” Verbeck concluded. “And don’t let him get
away this time. And you, Muggs, go out and get the roadster ready.
We’re going home! There is a telephone, chief, if you want to give the
glad news to the papers.”
Muggs turned toward the door. The adventure was over, Muggs knew. He
was no longer comrade in arms—now he was chauffeur and valet and
all-around man to Roger Verbeck—until that young gentleman should feel
the call of adventure again.
THE END