"Careful!" he warned again. "This is the headquarters, all right, and there doesn't seem to be anybody here—but you never can tell. Watch out for tricks and traps! Be careful what you touch and where you step. When he was after the Black Star before, Roger Verbeck found himself in a trap when he thought he was boss of the situation—don't forget that!"
The sheriff stepped to the floor, walked a couple of paces away from the steps. He saw an electric switch on the wall, hesitated a moment, and then turned it. The basement was bathed in light.
All the deputies with him were on the floor of the basement now. A chorus of gasps escaped them.
The basement was not like the rest of the house. It was furnished lavishly. In the middle was a long table. At either end was a blackboard on the wall. There were half a score of heavy chairs scattered about. There were some papers on the table.
"Watch the walls," Kowen instructed. "We've found the new headquarters, all right. We'll beat Roger Verbeck and the police this time, thank Heaven! Watch the walls—they're liable to open up and let a gang of thugs in on us any time. I'm going to look at these papers on the table."
He posted his deputies where he wished them, and advanced slowly and carefully across the floor. He was afraid the floor would open and swallow him, afraid of some clever trap that would turn victory into defeat and make him a laughingstock.
He reached the table without accident, and glanced at the papers there. There was no handwriting in sight. The papers had been printed with tiny rubber stamps. Kowen remembered that such was the Black Star's method.
He picked up the nearest and began reading. His eyes bulged and an exclamation escaped him.
"Great—great!" he muttered.
For he was holding in his hands some of the master rogue's orders to his band. Moreover, they had to do with the campaign of crime the Black Star had promised. Kowen read it swiftly: