Detective Riley gritted his teeth and clung to one end of the seat in which Verbeck crouched. Muggs bent forward, squinting his eyes and trying to get a clear view ahead. They turned corners and swept around curves at dangerous speed, sprang down hills as if the car was some wild thing running for life from a hereditary foe.
It was half past two o’clock in the morning, and few vehicles were abroad, a fact for which Muggs gave devout thanks. They reached the edge of the business district, yet he did not slacken the car’s speed. Detective Riley had said no word since the start—now he was the sleuth on the trail, the officer of the law ready to try conclusions with the criminal. Neither did Roger Verbeck speak, not even to shriek orders to Muggs, for Muggs did not need orders, and Verbeck was thinking of the humiliation in store for him unless the master criminal was caught.
Muggs dodged an owl car by less than a foot, and took a corner on two wheels. Riley would have been dashed from the machine had not Verbeck flung an arm around him. Down another hill they raced, and into a cross street, where the heavy traffic of the day had obliterated the most of the slush, and the going was safer.
They were within a few blocks of their destination now. Verbeck and Riley were both wondering if the sergeant had been able to get to another telephone and notify headquarters. The Black Star might have a chance of escape if the block was not surrounded.
And they were not certain that he had not committed his theft and escaped already. He had had plenty of time while they were following the dictagraph wire, especially since it was certain his plans had been made carefully. Would they arrive in time to find him at work? Or, would they find the door of the vault open and a fortune in jewels gone?
Riley bent over and screeched in Muggs’ ear:
“Stop that horn! And stop the machine at the corner this way!”
Muggs nodded that he understood. He drove around another corner, and swung the roadster to a stop. Riley sprang to the walk, Verbeck and Muggs following closely. They hurried around the corner and to the entrance of the big building.
Automatics and electric torches were held ready now. There was no watchman in the entrance, and they started to creep up the stairs to the second floor. And there, at the top of the marble steps, just in front of the heavy glass doors that opened into the establishment of Jones & Co., they found the watchman.
He was stretched on the floor, bound and gagged and with a black star on his forehead. Riley motioned for silence, and relieved the watchman of gag and ropes.