Then the front door of the apartment house was opened, and a man and woman stood framed in it for a moment. The woman stepped back, and the door was closed again; the man turned up the collar of his raincoat and stepped briskly down the steps and toward the waiting roadster.
The watcher at the mouth of the alley betrayed some interest now. The motor cyclist left his place of seclusion and walked forward slowly, head bent as if against the force of the storm.
“Home, Muggs!”
The man who had taken Muggs’ place reached forward as he heard the words and found the seat beside him occupied. And for the second time that evening he turned swiftly and discharged a cloud of vapor from the pistol he carried. For the second time also that vapor rendered a man unconscious instantly.
“Great! Walked right into the trap!” It was the motor cyclist who spoke. He got into the car and aided his companion in putting the second unconscious man in the rear, under the robe. “Better let her out now!” he went on. “We’ve got ’em both—Verbeck and Muggs. I reckon we caught ’em off their guard. They didn’t expect to get that vapor stuff right here on the boulevard. Great idea of the boss to always give a man what he doesn’t expect! I guess this’ll put a crimp into young and handsome Mr. Verbeck. Nail the boss, will he? Huh!”
The other had turned the roadster, and now it darted up the boulevard at a speed perilously near the limit allowed by city ordinance. From the mouth of the alley darted the light truck, and took up the pursuit. The driver of it was chuckling again, evidently at the ease with which the Black Star’s men had made Verbeck and Muggs captives.
The Verbeck roadster led the way up the boulevard, and, after a time, turned into a side street. Down a long hill it dashed, with the light truck following less than a block behind. Traffic was passing in both directions, but the speed of roadster and truck did not diminish to any great extent.
Now the residence district was left behind, and the two machines were passing through the dark wholesale district. Here the truck dropped a short distance behind, and its driver glanced around frequently to see whether any other machine was following.
And then a railroad crossing was reached, and the roadster was forced to stop against the gates while a long freight train was pulled slowly by. The truck drove up and stopped behind it. The driver got down and stepped across the sidewalk and into a cheap saloon on the corner there. He came out again almost instantly, puffing at a cigar he had purchased. He stood beside his truck, looking at the train, shaking the raindrops from his coat collar. The two men in the front seats of the roadster glanced at him, but apparently he gave them no attention.
The end of the train rattled past; the gates began to lift. The roadster started slowly forward across the tracks. The man who had been driving the truck gave a quick spring—and landed on the rear of the roadster, where there was a broad bulge in the body, with an extra wheel lashed upon it. Top and curtains were up; the men in the roadster could not see him.