On the glass, directly over the figure IX, had been pasted a tiny black star!
“That wasn’t there when I dressed last evening,” Verbeck mused. “So he’s been here since he escaped the police, eh? That is pretty swift work!”
Muggs hurried in from the bedroom.
“Boss! Look!” he cried. “This was pinned on your pillow!”
He extended an envelope. A black star was pasted on it. The letter was addressed to Roger Verbeck.
“Swift work!” Roger exclaimed again.
“Boss, my hunch is workin’ yet! Telephone the chief to send up them men—let him send twenty of em!”
“One moment, Muggs! Your solicitude for my welfare is overwhelming—but suppose we read this entertaining epistle before making a move. Perhaps I’ll want to fight this out alone.”
He ripped the envelope open, took out a sheet of paper, unfolded it, and read:
Mr. Roger Verbeck: You almost had me, but at the supreme moment I escaped. You have seen me; so have police officers and eight of my band who never saw me before. You have discovered some things concerning me, but what you have found out is as nothing when compared to what you do not know. This little incident has served to put an edge on my wit.
You boasted you could catch me—do it! And the next time hang on to me until I am behind the bars—and even then I’ll triumph. I laugh at you and your efforts, as I laugh at the police. I am not going to run away! I’ll even keep you informed of my movements—and then you cannot get me. And, for the trouble you and your man have caused me, I am going to get you, Roger Verbeck, and get you good! I do not contemplate violence on your person—that would be the resort of an ordinary thug. But I’ll hurt you, Roger Verbeck, in a thousand ways, break you down, ruin you, make you a joke, until you’ll curse the day you first heard of the Black Star. It’s a fight to a finish between us. Every place you turn you’ll be reminded of me and my purpose.
Sleep well to-night, and in security, for you’ll need the rest. The moment you awake the fight is on. And I’ll know when you awake. I’ll know every move you make, and I’ll almost know every thought in your head—you poor fool!