"Great Scott!" the chief ejaculated.
"Now there will be a fine row!" Verbeck said. "We've got to catch the Black Star and get those paintings back! Every art lover will howl until we do! And, worst of all, they didn't belong to the museum—they were merely loaned. And the six are worth more than a million dollars!"
CHAPTER XV
SOME FISHERMEN
At his headquarters, the Black Star was pacing the floor nervously, his hands clasped behind his back. A buzzer sounded, and he hurried to the telephone, taking it from its hiding place in the niche in the wall.
"Hello!" he said.
"Number Eleven."
"Countersign?"
"Kokomo."