“I’ll not be satisfied until the police have their hands on him, boss.”
“Neither shall I. But nothing is going to happen, Muggs, to bother us. Keep that hunch of yours until another time.”
Muggs resumed his guard of the prisoner, and, though he asked Verbeck nothing concerning the plans he had made, there was a question in the expression of his face. Verbeck lighted a cigar for himself, and sat down not far from the Black Star. He looked at his watch.
“It is half after ten,” he announced. “Mr. Black Star, in exactly an hour and a half the police will take into custody some of your people; eight men and two women, to be exact.”
“Indeed?”
“Exactly,” said Verbeck.
“Would you mind telling me how this is to be done? I am somewhat interested and wholly skeptical.”
“Last night,” said Verbeck, “I assumed your robe and mask, and played at being the Black Star. I destroyed the orders you had prepared, countermanded all of which I learned, and issued new orders of my own. There was no hitch in the arrangement. Not one of them became suspicious as far as I could see.”
“And the orders?” the Black Star asked, interest showing in his face.
“Were the same in each instance,” said Verbeck. “The orders make it possible for the police to round up the entire gang at one swoop. They’ll be kept separate until I turn you over and tell all I know. With those facts upon which to work the detectives will have no trouble getting confessions. As for you—Muggs and I can swear to enough to convict you, especially after the police have searched that house where you had your headquarters.”