“I’ll call in the sergeant in charge of the squad, Muggs.”
“Yes, and maybe he’s one of the Black Star’s men for all you know!”
“Nonsense! Well, I’ll let you stay up until seven—how’s that?”
“That’s a little better, boss.”
Verbeck dressed and had his coffee, and Detective Riley retired to the bedroom. Muggs curled up on the divan. Verbeck paced the floor for a time, and then threw open the door and went out on the veranda for a breath of morning air. The squad of police had been changed, and the new sergeant in charge hurried toward Verbeck across the lawn.
“I brought you the morning papers, Mr. Verbeck,” he said, “when I came on duty. Thought perhaps you’d like to have ’em.”
“Thanks, sergeant.”
“Your name certainly is in all of them! Say, is it true what they say?”
“And what do they say?”
“That you were planning a trap for the Black Star and he knew all about it?”