CHAPTER XXV
END OF THE TRAIL
HALF a dozen feet from the fence Verbeck stopped. He watched the house for a couple of minutes, and then advanced another pace. He was within three feet of the fence now, and he saw what he had expected—wires and cables of metal cunningly woven in the mesh of the structure itself, and in such manner that the whole thing would be charged when a current was turned on.
The chief had crawled up behind Verbeck.
"That fence is deadly!" Verbeck said. "The Black Star used something like this once before, you'll remember, and half a dozen men were seriously shocked and burned. We don't dare try to pass it at present. The current may or may not be running through it. We can't take the chance. If the gate was open, we probably could pass through without danger, but the gate is a part of the circuit."
"Well, are we going to let a fence tie us up?" the chief asked. "If the Black Star and his band are inside, every minute we spend out here gives them a chance to get ready for us."
"Warn the men!" Verbeck said.
The chief sent the word around the circle of officers—nobody was to touch the fence, since it probably was charged with a deadly current, and shocks and burns would result. Sheriff Kowen had crawled up to them through the brush.
"Look!" he exclaimed suddenly.
A dog, attracted by the men in the woods, had been running from one group to another. Now, chasing a stick one of the men had thrown, he brushed against the fence. A single yelp came from him; and he was stretched on the ground, apparently lifeless.
"You see?" Verbeck said. "Perhaps it wouldn't kill a man, but it would burn him badly, and put him out of the game."
"We've got to get through!" the chief declared. "And how are we going to do it?"
One of the electricians had crawled forward, and they explained the situation to him.
"If the current is that strong, we can't fool with it," he said earnestly. "Electricity isn't a timid plaything at best, and a dose like that fence hands out is too much for anybody. You'll notice that the dog hasn't moved; he's dead. And since we can't get through that fence"
"We can go over it!" Verbeck added.
"How?" the chief and sheriff asked in chorus.
"Bridge the thing," said Verbeck. "We've got men enough, and there are trees enough."
"It'll be one ticklish job," the electrician warned.
"But it can be done," Verbeck declared. "Chief, have all your men watch the house closely. If anybody in there tries to interfere with me, bombard the place."
Verbeck sprang up and ran parallel to the fence for a distance of half a hundred feet. He had spotted a big tree there that had a projecting branch not fifteen feet from the ground—a branch half a foot in diameter that extended over the fence and into the yard about the house. He swung himself into the tree, reached the branch, and crept out along it. He crossed over the deadly fence, hesitated a moment, and dropped. Roger Verbeck was inside.
He found that he was partially screened from the house by a clump of brush. He turned his back upon the house and crept toward the fence again. The chief and sheriff hurried to meet him.
"Almost all your men can do as I have done," Verbeck said. "We don't even have to bridge it. Have them come over, one by one, and have the others watch the house closely. If the Black Star or any of his men are in there, they know we are after them and are watching us."
The chief issued the orders. The men made the perilous trip one at a time, and dropped to the ground beside Verbeck. Twenty men in all crossed over, and left the others to guard outside the fence, maintaining the blockade around the house.
Not a sign had come from within to show that their presence was known. But Verbeck and those who had fought against the Black Star before knew that that did not mean safety. It was like the Black Star to wait for the proper moment before striking.
"Be careful, you men!" Verbeck warned. "We are fighting the Black Star, please remember, and he can be unscrupulous at times. You may consider yourselves in danger from the moment we start toward the house. In his old headquarters he had some of the most diabolical traps known to man; and you always find them where you least expect them. Beware of the doors and windows. Investigate them before you touch them; and if we get inside the place, be alert continually. You may expect pitfalls, vapor bombs—anything!"
The officers scattered and surrounded the house inside the fence. Those on the outside crept as close as they dared, weapons held ready, and watched the doors and windows.
On and on went those inside the fence, until they were almost against the walls. The chief, the sheriff, and Verbeck were at the front.
"Doesn't seem to be anybody around," the chief said. "They got wise and left, I suppose. Well, we'll investigate the place anyway, since we are here."
He started up the steps that led to the small veranda at the front of the house. His foot struck the lowest step.
There was a sharp explosion, and half the veranda was torn away. Verbeck and the others reeled backward. A cloud of smoke filled the air; and it was not the pungent vapor used by the Black Star in his bombs.
"That was the real thing!" Verbeck declared.
The chief was pale and trembling as he retreated.
"I'll get that fiend!" he declared. "Look at the hole that explosion made in the porch floor! If a man had been over that——"
"They set it off too quick!" the sheriff said. "We've got to move carefully, or we'll be having casualties."
"We must take that chance!" the chief said. "We've got to get that fiend, and policemen are paid to run into trouble when it is necessary. Into the house, men! Get in any way that you can! Try to take care of yourselves, but get in!"
The officers cheered and shouted. They plunged toward windows and doors. They smashed panes of glass in, and hurled themselves against doors as if they knew no fear.
Half a dozen explosions came, but no man was injured. Here and there a policeman made an entrance, and others followed him. Within five minutes Verbeck and the chief and Kowen found that all were inside, gathered in the big hall at the front of the house, and that no man had received a scratch.
"I guess we're on the right trail, sure enough!" the chief said.
"And this is where we must be careful," declared Roger Verbeck. "This is where we are liable to run into traps."
The search of the house began. There were but two floors and the basement, and the search started at the top. There the officers found nothing except unoccupied rooms that were filled with dust. They even went into the garret, and found nothing except a heap of discarded clothing that looked as if it had been there for years.
Next they searched the ground floor. In the rear was a kitchen, almost immaculate, with its pots and pans and stores of food. There were three bed-chambers that appeared to be in constant use. And that was all.
"I suppose it is in the basement, as usual," Verbeck said.
"Careful, men!" the chief warned. "If they are in the basement, they'll put up a fight. That big crook knows what is in store for him when he's caught, so you don't want to bank too much on that old bunk of his that he abhors violence. A cornered rat will put up a stiff fight!"
They found the basement door. Roger Verbeck went forward, grasped the knob, and jerked the door open suddenly. Again there was a rending explosion, and the panels and framework were shattered. Back through the hall staggered Verbeck and the others. The vapor the master crook used was mingled with the smoke of the explosion, and was sweeping through the hall.
But the police had been prepared for it. They ran to the open windows and inhaled the fresh air, remaining there until the poisonous fumes had been swept out of the open front door. Then they rushed back into the hall.
Before them was a stairway shrouded in dense darkness. Verbeck took an electric torch in one hand and his automatic in the other, and began the descent, a detective immediately behind him. He flashed the torch on the stairs, hesitated before treading upon each one, made his way step by step toward the bottom, expecting every instant to hear the crash of another explosion.
He reached the end of the flight, and found himself in a narrow hall. Along this he went, a file of other men behind him. He came to a door.
"This seems to be the place," he whispered. "If they are inside, we are due for a warm reception."
He grasped the handle and jerked the door open. This time there was no explosion. He flashed his torch again. In front of the door was a heavy curtain of some sort.
Verbeck put out his hand and moved the curtain aside gently. He could see into the room—could see in the path of the electric torch, and that was all.
Verbeck knew that the situation was precarious. It meant something to enter a dark room in which the Black Star and some of his men might be waiting. It took courage, the more so since Roger Verbeck was well acquainted with the master rogue's methods, and realized that the Black Star was fighting for freedom now.
"Hold the curtain—and wait!" Verbeck whispered to the man nearest him.
He slipped inside the curtain and stood with his back against it. He had extinguished the torch. There was not a glimmer of light, not the slightest sound.
Verbeck held his automatic ready, and suddenly flashed the torch in his left hand. He played it down the length of the room, sweeping the streak of light from side to side.
"In!" he cried to the others. "Torches!"
They crowded into the room, their lights flashing. The room was thoroughly illuminated. The chief gave a cry that was echoed by the sheriff and the others.
Without a doubt, they were in the Black Star's headquarters. Verbeck knew the room instantly for the one in which he had been prisoner for a short time. There were the long table, the blackboards, and on the table a black robe and mask that had been discarded by some member of the band.
"Careful!" the chief warned.
"I don't think there is any need of caution," said Roger Verbeck. "I have an idea that neither the Black Star nor any of his people are around the place. He knew we had got on the right trail—and he has moved. The Black Star always has another headquarters prepared, remember. He moved half a dozen times the last time we fought against him. There is a lamp on the table—one of you men light it."
Verbeck walked across the room to the blackboard, upon which there was some fine writing.
"I thought so!" he exclaimed.
This is what he read:
Gentlemen: I am aware that you are going to locate the place where I live and work, and so I suppose I am forced to move. Had not that fool of a Landers telephoned me from the roof of the hotel, had not Roger Verbeck overheard the number he called, I would have been safe here as long as I wished to remain.
I am leaving for a new place that already has been prepared for me. I am taking Muggs along as a sort of hostage. There is no rush, since I have all night to make the move.
When I go, I shall leave bombs attached to some of the windows and doors, and connected with the veranda steps. They will annoy you, perhaps, and make you think that you are brave men rushing into danger. It is just a little joke.
For this inconvenience, the city shall be made to pay dearly, of course. It costs me something each time I move my headquarters. I have to leave furniture behind, and I have to inform all my people of the new location. But the people of the city shall pay! To-night, I strike, and I shall strike hard! *****
"Fooled again!" the chief shrieked, in rage. "And we were on the right trail, too!"
"We'll get him yet!" declared Sheriff Kowen. "Some of his people will make another slip"
"And, in the meantime," Roger Verbeck interrupted, "we'd better be preparing for to-night and what it may bring forth. After this, the Black Star will strike with twice his usual strength and cunning. He has said he would—and the crook always keeps his word!"