“Such things have been done before. A little rap would start the blood, and he might have shammed a great deal of that staggering-around business. You don’t suppose this Black Star has got hold of Muggs—corrupted him or got the hooks into him?”
“I do not!” Verbeck replied emphatically. “I’d stake my life on Muggs. He’s loyal! If the Black Star tried anything like that Muggs would tell me at once.”
“Then how did it happen? Answer me that! It stands to reason, doesn’t it, that nobody has been in this house except the three of us?”
“It looks that way, but——”
“Humph! You go right ahead thinking what you like, Roger. As for me, boy, I’m going to keep one eye on Mr. Muggs.”
“But——”
“Don’t be angry now. It’s my business to be suspicious of people. I knew you when you were a baby, and I’m right with you in this scrap with the Black Star. You’ve lived with this Muggs man for some time, and you think he’s loyal—sure! He’s somewhat of a stranger to me, and I look at him from the outside, and don’t see him with any rosy waves of glory around his head. No insult meant, Roger. I’ll just keep an eye on him, and if he ain’t guilty it won’t hurt him a bit.”
They went back to the kitchen. Muggs, now that the excitement was over, was going ahead with the preparations of the evening meal. Half an hour later he had it ready, and the three of them ate it in the living room, while Muggs groaned now and then and held his hand to the back of his head often, apparently not noticing that Riley eyed him constantly.
“If I get my hands on that Black Star I’ll kill him!” Muggs promised. “That’s the second time he’s smashed me on the head!”
“Maybe the Black Star didn’t do it,” Riley said.