"Carry them out. There is nothing new!"
The master rogue hung up the receiver, put the telephone away in a secret niche in the wall, and sat down at the end of the long table again. A man entered with a tray containing luncheon, and the Black Star removed his mask and ate. The servant was a member of the old organization, and took part in no crimes—it was not necessary for the Black Star to wear a mask in his presence.
Having eaten, the master criminal stretched himself on a couch in one corner of the room, and slept. It was dusk when he awakened. He ate again, and as he finished the little bell on the wall jangled. The Black Star put on his mask, and touched a button.
The robed and masked man who entered was small. He went directly to the blackboard.
"Number Sixteen," he wrote.
"Countersign?"
"Providence."
"Report!"
"First National received shipment of currency to-day as expected," the other wrote.
"What amount?"