He crept across to this door, careful that the boards of the floor did not creak with his steps. He bent and peered through a keyhole into the room beyond. He did not chuckle now, for a chuckle might have meant disaster, but he did smile, and the expression on his face was one of lively satisfaction. He had arrived at an opportune moment.
Caution remained with him, however. He hurried back across the room and locked the door with the key from his pocket. Then he journeyed to one of the windows and made sure that it was unlocked and that from it a man easily could drop to the ground. That done, he went back to the keyhole again and bent down to watch.
As he took up his position a deep voice came from the other room, a voice that seemed to be issuing orders in a tone that meant the speaker generally had his orders obeyed instantly.
“All ready now! Bring those two back to earth, and we’ll have the show!” the voice said. “Number Ten, get out of the house and down to the river and see that everything is prepared. It is now nine-thirty o’clock, and we want to leave about eleven.”
[CHAPTER XXVII—IN BLACK STAR’S HANDS]
The man who peered through the keyhole saw a large room, furnished lavishly. The furniture was massive and antique; the rugs on the floor were valuable; tapestries of rare worth were there; cut glass was on a heavy buffet at one side of the room; an antique lamp standing near the center of the room shed an uncertain yellow light that made some things look grotesque and others fantastic.
At the end of a long table and beside this lamp stood the Black Star, his robe and hood and mask in place and the star of flaming jet flashing on the hood. Behind him was the blackboard upon which he wrote orders to those of his band not enough trusted to hear his voice. To one side were six members of the band, each dressed in black robe and mask.
On two chairs a short distance in front of him, their hands and feet bound and their mouths gagged, were the two prisoners of the roadster. As the man of mystery watched, one of the Black Star’s followers approached the chairs, and for an instant he held a small sponge beneath the nostrils of each of the two men.
He stepped back near the others. A moment passed, and then Muggs groaned and opened his eyes. Those eyes seemed to flash fire when he took in the scene.
“Well, my dear Muggs, here we are again,” the Black Star said, laughing a little. “You regain consciousness a second sooner than Mr. Verbeck, as I have noticed before. That, I presume, is because you are a tougher specimen of humanity.”