Roger Verbeck’s boast had not been an idle one. He believed sincerely that no crook could be so clever but what some honest man could match wits with him and win. He believed, too, that the Black Star did not work alone, but was the leader of a band. Not for an instant did Verbeck think the man he had taken prisoner was the notorious Black Star, but it pleased him to let the prisoner believe he did.
His first impulse had been to call the police and hand the man over. But he guessed that such a course would not insure the capture of the master crook, and that the prisoner would refuse to talk, take a sentence for burglary, and thus allow the Black Star and the others to go free.
It would be clever, Verbeck decided, to allow this man to escape, to shadow him, and to learn more. Roger Verbeck had adventured with Muggs scores of times, and he yearned for an adventure now. Here was his chance. Besides, the Black Star had issued the challenge.
Muggs returned fully dressed. For an instant the eyes of master and man met, and there flashed between them an understanding.
“Better look at this chap’s bonds, Muggs,” Verbeck said. “We don’t want him escaping before the police come.”
Muggs bent behind the prisoner’s chair and fumbled with the cord, and when he arose his eyes met those of Verbeck again, and Verbeck knew that Muggs had obeyed orders.
“Now go down and call the house manager,” he directed, “and I’ll telephone the police.”
Muggs hurried out into the hall. Verbeck left his chair and stepped back to the door of the bedroom.
“I fancy you’ll be secure for a moment or so,” he told the prisoner. “You’ll scarcely get away unless you carry that chair with you.”
He backed through the curtains, grasped his topcoat and cap, and crossed the room on his toes and unlocked the hall door. To cover the sound of the key turning in the lock, he spoke as if calling a number on the telephone.