“You are a very boisterous man, Muggs,” the master criminal said. “You’d be very vicious, I imagine, under some circumstances. Please do not be so violent. I abhor violence.”
“You’re right; you’ll abhor it if I ever get my hands on you proper!” Muggs exclaimed.
The Black Star brought the palms of his hands together sharply.
“Enough of this chatter!” he commanded. “We have scant time before leaving here for the scene of the evening’s festivities. You have decided, Mr. Verbeck, to be made a laughingstock! Very well!”
“And where is this to take place?” came the question.
“Ah! Roger Verbeck thinks I fear to tell him in advance, does he? Why, sir, I’ll even tell you every detail of the proposed crime, if you wish. You are most certainly my prisoner, and cannot warn the police, and, could you, it would avail those stupid police nothing. One could steal the buttons off their uniforms and they’d not know it until the next day.”
“I’m listening!”
“Such impatience!” the Black Star exclaimed. “Attend me closely, then, Mr. Verbeck—you also, Muggs. Little good it’ll do you! It is my intention to-night to reap a harvest of some three hundred thousand dollars in money and securities. Quite ambitious—that? Merely an ordinary task for the Black Star, I assure you.”
“You’re th’ original shrinkin’ onion!” Muggs declared.
“Silence, please, while I explain. The money and securities I mentioned are in the vaults of the National Trust Company. Those vaults are impregnable, it is said. This is a joke, of course. With us it will be as easy to get that fortune as it would be to purchase a new cravat.”