“Gone!” Verbeck echoed.
The chief of police swore. The manager of Jones & Co., who had left his place of safety, tore his hair and lamented his loss and berated the police.
“He—he can’t be gone!” Riley reiterated.
Verbeck, his heart sinking, stepped inside and looked around. Fastened in the corner of one of the trays was what he had feared he would find—a letter written by the Black Star and addressed to himself. He read it swiftly, then handed it to the chief, and threw wide his hands in a gesture of momentary despair.
And this is what he had read:
Mr. Verbeck and Aids: I am leaving this because I assume you’ll find my other note at the house and follow me here. I dare say that, when you entered you saw me standing before the open door of the vault. You watched, and saw me enter the vault. Did you not? You did not! Your eyes deceived you! I intend waiting here until you arrive, to add one more small bit to my evening’s entertainment.
Illusion, my dear Mr. Verbeck—all illusion. The dim light coming in from the street, you know, helps some. You will notice that there are many mirrors scattered around the room. I took the liberty of moving a few of them to serve my purpose. Go back to the door at which you entered and look at the vault. Have your silly Muggs stand ten feet to the right of the door to the room. Now look at the vault, Mr. Verbeck, and it will appear that the silly Muggs is standing in the vault door. You follow? Simple, old-fashioned mirror illusion that won’t even go at country fairs any more. And you fell for that!
For, when you enter the room, I shall be standing within ten feet of you, and you’ll imagine you see me in the vault door, and creep forward. I’ll take two steps to the right, and you’ll think I have entered the vault. You’ll advance toward it, and I’ll step outside quietly to the window that opens on the court, let myself down a rope already prepared, and be on my way—with this excellent collection of diamonds. All thought out beforehand, you see!
I have made you a laughingstock, as I promised, but I am not done with you yet. I defy you again, Roger Verbeck, as I defy the police. You’ll hear from me soon.
*****
They snapped out the lights and tried it—Muggs standing where the Black Star had said—and found it was so.
They went to the court and found an open window from which a rope dangled to the ground floor below.
Then they placed a guard and went out, leaving the manager to estimate and bemoan his loss.