Author: Johnston McCulley
Category: Mystery
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CHAPTER XVI--A NOCTURNAL VISIT
Verbeck opened his eyes at eleven o'clock that morning after adreamless, refreshing sleep to find Muggs standing at the foot of hisbed, fully dressed, grinning, the morning newspapers in his hands.
"They've got it all, boss," he reported. "That Black Star sent lettersto the papers last night by special messengers, and from a downtownhotel. Whaddaya think of his nerve? Here it is--story of the wholething, givin' us a lot of credit and makin' fun of the police forlettin' the crook escape. I'll bet that fat chief has a fit when hereads this!"
"Probably he read it several hours ago and already has had his fit,"Verbeck said. "Had breakfast? Yes? You're the original early bird,Muggs. Well, I'm famished!"
Verbeck bathed and dressed in record time, and hurried to the cafe inthe basement, eager to eat and be gone before the regular luncheoncrowd gathered to point him out and make remarks about his pursuit andcapture of the Black Star.
No sooner had he seated himself at his favorite table than the waiterplaced before his eyes an extra edition of one of the evening papers,damp from the press. Roger spread it open to find his own portraitgazing at him from the front page, and as he waited for his toast andeggs and coffee he read.
The Black Star had sent a letter to the evening paper also, butthrough the mail, with a special-delivery stamp affixed. Again themaster criminal scoffed at the police, threatened some particularlydaring crimes to demonstrate that he did not fear them, and then paidhis respects to Roger Verbeck. A reproduction of the last paragraph ofthe Black Star's letter was shown in the paper:
To All Whom It May Concern: There is war between myself and Roger Verbeck, who caused me considerable trouble the last few days. I hereby warn all persons not to give aid to this enemy of mine--to refuse him shelter, food, clothing, refuse to hold conversation with him, or have business dealings with him of any sort whatsoever. Against those who dare disobey this order I'll strike--and strike hard.
*****
Roger smiled as he read that paragraph; he presumed it was one of theBlack Star's jokes--for he had discovered that the master rogue had asense of humor. Certainly it could be nothing else. Roger Verbeck wasthe last of one of the city's old families, a young man respected byall, with unlimited wealth at his command, possessing a myriad ofacquaintances and legions of friends. This warning of the Black Starwas very liable to fall upon deaf ears.
Still, it was embarrassing, and Roger found himself frowning becauseof the unpleasant publicity. That was one way the Black Star couldfight him--by making him ridiculous through the newspapers; for it wascertain that the papers would print any letters the Black Star sentthem. Roger caught a vision of future days of horror, with every onepointing him out, joking him, making his life miserable. On thestreets, at any of his clubs, wherever he met his friends, his namewould be coupled with that of the Black Star. There would be but oneescape--and that by capturing the master crook, turning the laugh onhim, and so ending the affair.
Having breakfasted, Verbeck had Muggs get out the roadster, and theydrove to police headquarters. The snowstorm was at an end, and the daywas warm for March. But they failed to find the spirit of springprevalent when police headquarters was reached.
A sleepy chief paced the floor of his private office, chewing at hisinevitable black cigar. Detectives, plain-clothes men, and uniformedofficers rushed in and out. Telephones rang.
"Don't ask me," the chief roared when he saw his visitors. "I'll tellyou--it'll take less time. We haven't got him. We haven't evendiscovered a trace of him. The handcuffs he wore were found in analley less than half a dozen blocks away--and that's all. He's foundtime to send letters to the papers--and to me."
"He sent one to you?" Roger asked.
"He did. If ever I get my two hands around the throat of that BlackStar I'll choke the life out of him. I wouldn't care if he got mad andsent me cuss words--but he called me a blanked fool!"
"Ah! We are fellow sufferers," Verbeck said. "That's what he calledme."
"You! You've heard from him?"
"When I got home this morning his black stars were pasted around myapartment, and I found a letter pinned to my pillow--or rather Muggsdid. Here it is."
Verbeck handed it over; the chief read it. Then the head of the city'spolice department sat down before his desk, thought for a moment, andfinally pushed a button. A sergeant entered.
"Send me Detective Riley!" he ordered.
A moment's waiting, while the chief chewed his cigar and Roger andMuggs puffed at theirs. Then Riley entered and saluted his chiefrespectfully.
Detective Riley was a man of fifty, and he had been in the departmentsince the age of twenty-one. He knew every inch of the city, and was aman of nerve and resource. But for his honest and outspoken opinionsof political leaders undoubtedly he would have been high in thedepartment. As it was, he was satisfied.
"I believe you know Mr. Verbeck, Riley," the chief said.
"I certainly do, sir," the detective answered, grinning at Roger. "Hisfather got me my job on the force, and I taught Roger how to hold abat when he played ball on the corner lot near the old Verbeck place."
"Um! You know this town pretty well, too, and you're an honest man.Sit down--and listen. You're going on the trail of this Black Star,Riley. And if you're in at the death when he's nabbed I'll see youmade a captain, if I have to go into politics myself and slay half adozen ward bosses who don't like your looks."
"Some special line of work, sir? I'm already assigned to the case."
"So is every other man in the department. Yes--this is a special lineof work. You are to glue yourself to Mr. Roger Verbeck and hang on.Understand?"
"But, chief----" Roger began.
"Just a moment, Mr. Verbeck. I admire your courage and all that, butwe've got to do this in proper fashion. You've been threatened by thisBlack Star. He's going to take you partly into his confidence so hecan make a fool of you. I want Riley with you for two reasons. Thefirst is that you are going to have police protection whether you wishit or not. If Riley is with you and Muggs, one man can be awake and onthe job always, yet all of you get plenty of rest. The second is thatRiley can add his police experience and knowledge of crooks and thecity to your natural courage and cleverness. Understand? If this BlackStar communicates with you or makes a move against you in any wayRiley will be there and on the job to help. You'll not lose timesending to headquarters for assistance."
"I understand, chief."
"Another thing. Do you feel you can trust Riley?"
"I certainly do," said Verbeck earnestly.
"Good enough! It isn't every one we can trust in this game. You takeRiley with you and go after the Black Star, independent of thisdepartment--just as you did before, except that you'll have a regularofficer along. And we'll work on our own lines. And between us, we'dought to get our hands on him. Riley knows a certain private phonenumber he can use in case of emergency, and a call will rush a scoreof men to any part of the city. That's agreeable? Get out, then, andtake Riley with you! I'm going to lie down on the couch and take anap."
Verbeck laughed and led the way from the private office, waiting inthe lobby with Muggs while Riley went to his locker for certainparaphernalia he always had on his person when engaged on a particularcase.
"I like that guy," Muggs confided in a whisper.
"The chief?"
"Naw! This Riley. I'm glad he's goin' to be along."
"If I needed a recommendation for Riley--which luckily I do not--thatwould be the best I could get," Roger said, and he meant every word ofit.
"I think the three of us can make the Black Star look like a sucker!"
"You don't want to underestimate the Black Star, Muggs. Whenever youfeel inclined to do so, remember a certain smash behind the ear hegave you recently when you thought his hands were tied."
"He'll never do it again!" Muggs declared. "If I ever get my lamps onthat man again I'll forget how to turn my head!"
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Riley returned, and the three went out to the roadster.
The greater part of the afternoon was spent in Verbeck's apartmentdiscussing plans for the campaign. There was no sense, Riley pointedout, in running blindly around town trying to find the man theywanted; for the Black Star, it was to be supposed, was in hiding forthe time being, and without doubt planning a campaign of his own.Detectives were watching railroad stations, hotels, and lodginghouses, and the deserted residence where the Black Star had had hisheadquarters. There was nothing for the three men who sat in Verbeck'slibrary to do except wait for the master criminal to make the firstmove.
Roger visited Faustina Wendell for an hour that evening, while Muggsand Riley remained outside in front of the house where she lived withher mother and brother. Then the three returned to Roger's apartmentand spent an hour around the pool table.
"A crook works at night if he's breaking safes and vaults," Rileysaid. "Hence it is proper that we are prepared for night work. Isuggest we never retire until four or five o'clock in the morning andget up about noon. Then we'll be ready to jump if anything happens."
"Get a deck of cards, Muggs," Verbeck ordered. "What Detective Rileysays goes. By the way, Riley, I've ordered the roadster left standingin front of the building all night, ready for a quick jump."
"That's the stuff! I wish this Black Star would hurry up and startsomething. I'm anxious to get into action."
Tired of cards, they played pool again, and then they read, and thenthey talked of the Black Star some more, and finally they beganwondering if it wasn't time to retire.
"Just four o'clock," Verbeck announced.
And then the telephone rang!
Roger stepped across the room to the desk and picked up theinstrument; Muggs and Riley were on their feet, eager to know what themessage would be, and hoping it was a call to battle.
"Is this Mr. Verbeck's apartment?" a voice demanded.
"Yes," Roger answered.
"And who is this speaking?"
"This is Mr. Verbeck."
"Indeed? I thought perhaps it was that dolt, Detective Riley, fromheadquarters. I understand he is a more or less permanent guest ofyours."
"Who is this?" Roger demanded in turn.
"Pardon me for not telling you before. This is the Black Star."
"What's that?" Roger exclaimed.
"I assure you I am the Black Star. This is not one of your friendsplaying a joke on you. I just thought I'd call you up and say that theletter I sent the newspapers was meant. I've already made a moveagainst the manager of the apartment house where you live because hehasn't ousted you."
"Indeed?" Roger asked, beckoning Riley and Muggs toward him.
"You think I am jesting? I never jest about my work, Mr. Verbeck. Iimagine you'll have to find another home before night. Pardon me if Iring off now. It is possible you are sending Detective Riley or Muggsto another telephone to trace this call. And that would be bothunnecessary and embarrassing for me. For I am speaking to you from theoffice of your own apartment house. Good-by!"
Roger Verbeck dropped the telephone, spoke a dozen quick words, andwas running out into the hall, closely followed by Riley and Muggs.Down three flights of stairs, four steps at a time, they rushed, andinto the lobby.
Not a person was in sight.
From outside came the roaring of an automobile engine. They ran to thedoor, hurled it open, and hurried out. Tearing down the broadboulevard was Roger Verbeck's big roadster, and the man who drove itturned an instant to wave one hand at them.
"The nerve of----" Muggs began.
Detective Riley emptied his automatic at the vanishing car, andgrowled low in his throat because he knew he had missed.
"The night clerk----" Verbeck cried. "Where was the clerk?"
They rushed back into the lobby. They heard doors slamming on thefloors above as tenants, aroused by the turmoil and shooting, startedan investigation. And they heard groans coming from behind the longdesk.
Verbeck vaulted the counter, and cried out in surprise. On the floor,bound hand and foot, and gagged, was the night clerk of thebachelor-apartment house.
In the middle of his forehead was pasted a tiny black star!
And pinned to his breast was a card that bore this information:
To the Manager: This is just a hint that Roger Verbeck must go. If he does not, my next demonstration will be more disastrous.
*****