Staggering against the side of the table, he threw out his hand to grip the edge—and a drawer shot out!
He forgot the place and danger, and gave a cry of joy. Accident had accomplished what search had failed to reveal. The drawer was half filled with papers. He inspected them quickly—yes, there were several notes in Faustina’s handwriting, and a forged check for three thousand dollars in the bolder scrawl that belonged to Howard Wendell. The Black Star evidently had had that check close at hand to show the boy now and then in case he thought of quitting the organization.
There were other letters, too, the handwriting of which Verbeck seemed to recognize, but could not quite place—letters written by other victims of the Black Star, he supposed.
He carried them to the grate, set them afire, fed them to the flames one at a time. He ran back to the table and pressed the edge of it all the way around, and found one other drawer. There was nothing in it, however, and he felt that he had secured and destroyed all the dangerous papers there. The fire in the grate died down. Verbeck stirred the ashes to make certain nothing remained that would give a clew. Then he blew out the candle and started through the dusty hall to the door.
As he reached it he stopped in alarm. Creeping toward the house from the hedge were two men. Far to the right were two more. To the left were two more. He heard a sibilant whisper from near the wall a short distance away. Light from the nearest street lamp flashed against a policeman’s shield.
The police were surrounding the house!
[CHAPTER XI—CLOSE QUARTERS]
Muggs stood in front of the door for a moment after Verbeck had dashed from the house, then turned to face the Black Star again. Muggs’ lower jaw was shot out, his eyes were narrowed, and, but for Verbeck’s orders, he probably would have launched himself at the Black Star and attempted the old-fashioned retaliation known as “beating up.”
Muggs was small in size, but he had great strength in his arms and shoulders, and possessed knowledge of a multitude of tricks to aid him in the art of self-defense or aggression. He worshiped Roger Verbeck. He was ready at any time to fight for Verbeck, to defend his life and his happiness. The fact that the Black Star had caused his master misery was enough to make Muggs want to throttle the man. But Verbeck had decreed against that.
Muggs wished he was at his master’s side, helping him in the fight. He imagined Verbeck driving the roadster at top speed through the streets to the big hall; he fancied him entering upon the brilliant scene there, as he had intended doing at a later hour, getting Faustina Wendell and her brother to places of safety, then witnessing the capture of the Black Star’s band. He anticipated a telephone call from Verbeck telling of success.