“Don’t you think we’d better call the police now, boss? I got a hunch——”
“You heard what he said, didn’t you, Muggs? If the police take him in, the others will discover it, and escape. And he said some other things that have me guessing. How did he know what I said last night at a private reception in a private residence, eh? I know none of his crooks was close enough to overhear me. And how does he know what’s in my safe? He says he even knows the combination of it, and I don’t doubt him.”
“Then what are we going to do, boss?”
Verbeck had slipped off his robe, and now handed it, together with the mask, to Muggs.
“Put these outside in the box, then hurry back,” he directed.
As Muggs rushed away, Verbeck bent forward and took off the Black Star’s mask. There was revealed the not unhandsome face of a man about forty-five. Verbeck contemplated this countenance as he started to remove the Black Star’s robe. It was one he never had seen before. Despite the Black Star’s words, Verbeck had been half of a mind that the master crook was some one known to the city in general as a respectable man, a sort of Jekyll and Hyde.
Muggs returned, and the Black Star was gagged and bound with a curtain that Muggs tore from one of the doorways and ripped into strips.
“And now——” Verbeck began.
He did not complete the sentence. On the wall above his head a bell tinkled. Verbeck and Muggs looked at each other, the same idea in the mind of each.
“Another crook,” Muggs whispered.