CHAPTER IV.
WHAT RILEY DID.
HIS visit to police headquarters that afternoon had proved highly unpleasant for Detective Riley. It was his first appearance there since the chief had assigned him to live with Roger Verbeck and aid him in getting a clew to the Black Star's whereabouts. Since he had joined forces with Verbeck, Riley had come in for sarcastic sentences in the Black Star's letters to the newspapers; and his comrades at headquarters were not slow to torment him when he appeared that afternoon.
Riley had intended remaining at headquarters until Verbeck picked him up in the roadster about eight o'clock. His tormentors drove him away at five.
He walked slowly up the avenue, got something to eat at his favorite chop house, and then continued his promenade. He knew where Verbeck would dine, and intended to be in front of the café waiting beside the roadster with Muggs when Verbeck emerged.
Acquaintances stopped him frequently to discuss the Black Star and his latest exploit. It was almost seven o'clock when Riley swung into a side street to hurry toward the café, and at the curb in the distance he saw Verbeck's big roadster.
Muggs, then, must be in the near vicinity, he knew. He quickened his stride. And then he saw Muggs—saw him standing before the open door of a taxicab, evidently in argument with a tall individual who bent forward and shook a forefinger under Muggs' nose. And then
Detective Riley scarcely could believe his eyes. Experience had taught him, however, to act first and analyze things afterward. Just as he saw Muggs hurled backward into the taxicab, Riley sprinted forward. He was still some fifty feet away when the chauffeur of the cab sent his machine dashing down the street.
Detective Riley did not shout a command to stop, nor draw a weapon and fire into the air. He was too wise for that. It was evident to him that Muggs was being abducted. The fact that there was no commotion in the cab, that a door was not thrown open, and either Muggs or his abductor hurled to the pavement, convinced Riley that Muggs had met with foul play the instant his abductor had followed him into the cab. Who would annoy Muggs, assault him, abduct him? Nobody, Riley decided, except persons allied with the Black Star. Where were they taking Muggs? That, Riley determined to discover.
There was Verbeck's roadster at the curb—one of the most powerful cars in the city—and Detective Riley had operated it before. Now he ran forward and sprang into the seat, and an instant later was making his way down the boulevard, one eye on the street before him, and the other on the taxicab in the distance.
A traffic officer, recognizing him and noting the look on the detective's face, hurried him across a busy cross street, and Riley sped on. He had gained considerably on the taxicab ahead; he did not try to gain more, but kept his distance. Riley was aware that members of the Black Star's band were familiar with the appearance of Verbeck's roadster, and did not care to follow the taxicab close enough to make its chauffeur suspicious. The sixth sense that all good police officers possess told Riley to trail that other car, to discover where Muggs was being taken, and why.
After a time, the taxi left the broad boulevard, went into a side street, and turned toward the manufacturing district. Here there was less traffic, and Riley dropped behind, knowing he could speed up and overhaul the other car if it turned aside.
Over rough streets, paved with cobblestones, through muddy alleys, the cab led the way. Riley was using great caution now, never sounding his horn, dropping behind as long as he could see the tail light on the car, speeding up whenever it made a turning.
Now they were down near the river, where the street lights were placed far apart, a district teeming with life and industry in the daytime, but almost deserted after nightfall. Here were the city's smaller manufacturing plants, where old factories and abandoned buildings scattered among the ones where machinery hummed during the day.
The taxi made another turning, and again Riley raced the roadster forward to the corner, the powerful engine making scarcely a sound. As he approached the corner, he slowed down; when he reached it, he saw that the taxicab had stopped at the curb half a block away.
Riley drove the roadster across the street, sprang out, and hurried back to the corner. There was scarcely any light on this block, yet enough for him to make out that two men were carrying a third between them from the taxi and through a gate in a factory fence.
The semidarkness was kind to Riley. He slipped from shadow to shadow, came to the fence, and hurried along it, careful to make no noise. At the gate he stopped to peer around the post. The two men were carrying Muggs through a little door in the side of an abandoned factory building.
Riley waited until they had disappeared, then hurried across the inclosure, reaching the corner of the building just in time to escape being seen by the chauffeur as he emerged. The chauffeur hurried out to the car, and Riley let him go. To attack the man might mean that he would fail to subdue him, that an alarm would be given, and all chance to investigate this affair further be lost.
Riley slipped in through the door and found himself in a narrow, dark hallway. He heard no sound. He followed the hall for some distance, until he came to a flight of steps. Down these he hurried, and into another hall. He came to a door beneath which light showed. To the right of the door was another flight of steps that led upward, and there was an open door at the top.
Riley listened for some time, and heard no conversation. He hurried up the steps and through the door, to find himself in a dusty room, half filled with rusty machinery. Light came through the floor. Riley knelt on the dusty boards and peered through a tiny crack.
He gasped at what he saw. Muggs was stretched on a couch in a corner. Before a blackboard stood the Black Star; before another blackboard was the gowned and masked figure of Muggs' abductor. The Black Star was writing:
"Understand? Return in hour and half with taxi to take this man and the other away again. They must be put to sleep first, of course."
The other man nodded and backed through a door. Detective Riley made no effort to descend the steps and catch him in the lower hall. Before his eyes was the Black Star, the big quarry—and the other man was to return in an hour and a half.
Neither did Riley hurry below and make an effort to capture the master criminal in his lair. He determined to watch developments. He did not know what a few minutes might bring forth. Important clews that would lead to the capture of members of the Black Star's band might be forthcoming. And it appeared that there was no danger at present of Muggs being made the victim of violence, since the abductor was to return and remove him. Also, the Black Star had spoken of another man.
With his eyes glued to the crack in the floor, Riley waited breathlessly, an interested spectator of what transpired. The Black Star spent some minutes walking back and forth across the room, now and then chuckling as he looked at the unconscious Muggs. Then he spoke—and Muggs showed that he had regained consciousness.
From then until the Black Star raised the curtain and showed Roger Verbeck gagged and lashed to a chair, Detective Riley lost not a word or movement of the master crook. But the sight of Verbeck, held a helpless prisoner, almost made Riley lose caution. He was on his feet instantly, ready to slip down the stairs, cover the Black Star with a weapon, release Verbeck and Muggs, and take the master rogue prisoner.
But caution returned to him in time to check such a course. To make a move like that might be to meet with disaster. Riley did not know whether other members of the band were near, ready to answer an alarm from the Black Star. He did not know what would confront him if he threw open the door and faced the Black Star, for the Black Star had proved he had unusual methods of protection. And a slip, a mistake, a failure, might result in the capture of the master criminal being further delayed. Riley decided to watch longer, that there was no need for immediate action, since Verbeck and Muggs did not appear to be in peril.
He stooped over the crack again, and there he remained. He heard the bell ring, and saw a gowned-and-masked figure enter and give number and countersign. And then Detective Riley forgot even Roger Verbeck and his predicament momentarily, as he read the blackboard conversation and realized what the Black Star and his band intended doing that night.
Riley had an added need for caution now. He had to rescue Verbeck and Muggs, prevent the theft of the gold, capture the Black Star, and some of his band, if possible. He could slip away and go for help—but while he was gone, Verbeck and Muggs might be moved, and Riley would not know where they had been taken; or the master criminal might leave his headquarters, and the police find an empty nest when they arrived.
Also, Detective Riley, who had known Verbeck's father and adored the son, decided he would rather win the victory with only Verbeck and Muggs to help. He wanted to see Verbeck victorious in his feud with the master criminal. And the Black Star was a man of strategy who would not be captured through violence. Two or three men meeting him at his own game would have a better chance for victory.
There was another angle, too—a noisy attack on the Black Star's headquarters would warn the members of his band and allow them to escape. By working a clever plan of campaign, it was possible to arrest some of the master crook's accomplices.
Riley had the plan. He remembered how Roger Verbeck, on a former occasion, had donned the Black Star's robe and mask, and played master rogue for a day. Riley decided now that the best plan would be to get into that lower room and make the Black Star prisoner. Then Roger Verbeck could play rogue again, and as the members reported for orders, they could be captured, one at a time.
Riley knew he courted disaster if he stepped into that room and faced the Black Star in the guise of a police officer. He did not doubt that the Black Star, even facing a loaded pistol, might use some trick, and turn the scales in his favor. Had he not, once before, touched a button with his toe and sent Roger Verbeck to the bottom of a pit twelve feet deep?
"If I could get into a gown and mask, and get right beside him without him suspecting me" Riley mused.
Gown and mask, he doubted not, were to be found some place in the lower hall. But, once inside the room, Riley would have to give number and countersign to throw the Black Star off his guard for an instant—the instant necessary to do the work properly. That was what bothered Riley—the number and countersign.
Then he remembered the man who was to return and take Verbeck and Muggs away. Riley got up from the floor, crept down the stairs, and hid among the shadows in the lower hall near the outside door.
He did not have to wait long. A shadowy form slipped through the gate and took up a position a few paces outside the door. Crouching just inside, Riley waited. The other was waiting, too, looking at his watch now and then, and grumbling. And then, down the street, came a taxicab.
It stopped at the curb. The chauffeur glanced up and down the street, and then darted through the gate and hurried toward the door. The other man stepped forward to meet him.
"You're five minutes late," he said. "Want me to catch particular fits from the big boss?"
"Got here as soon as I could. I'm No. 20—countersign Trenton."
"I'm No. 10—countersign Jackson."
"Good. What's the game?"
"We've got this Roger Verbeck and his valet inside. I'm to put 'em to sleep, and we're to take 'em near Verbeck's house and drop 'em there. Stand near the door and be ready to help. I'll get into the robe and mask, and have 'em out here in a jiffy!"
The chauffeur turned his back and glanced at his cab; the other man whirled around and started for the door. Riley had the information he desired now. He knew this man's number and countersign, and how to use them.
The man who had entered the hallway went to a small box against the wall, and took from it robe and mask. As he raised the robe to don it, Detective Riley struck swiftly and with precision—a sharp blow from a blackjack in the approved place just behind the left ear. The Black Star's man went down without a groan.
Riley gagged him with a handkerchief, and bound his hands and feet with some old straps he had carried for that purpose from the room above. Working swiftly, he put on gown and mask, rolled the unconscious man to one side, and fumbled around the box until he found a push button. He pressed the button; a bell tinkled in the distance. Almost immediately there was an answering tinkle, and Riley hurried through the hallway and opened the door of the illuminated room.
His glance rested first on the glittering eyes of the Black Star, then upon Verbeck and Muggs. Whether the Black Star was aware of the deception or not, Riley did not know; but he was forced to turn his back and write his number on the blackboard. The countersign followed, and the Black Star's orders; and then Riley advanced upon the defiant Muggs, waited until he was in the proper position, and whirled to level his weapon at the Black Star, and to tear off his mask.
He heard the gasps of relief and joy from Verbeck and Muggs, but did not glance toward them again. Riley's eyes were blazing into those of the master criminal, and he was watching for the Black Star to make a move.