“Good enough! It isn’t every one we can trust in this game. You take Riley with you and go after the Black Star, independent of this department—just as you did before, except that you’ll have a regular officer along. And we’ll work on our own lines. And between us, we’d ought to get our hands on him. Riley knows a certain private phone number he can use in case of emergency, and a call will rush a score of men to any part of the city. That’s agreeable? Get out, then, and take Riley with you! I’m going to lie down on the couch and take a nap.”
Verbeck laughed and led the way from the private office, waiting in the lobby with Muggs while Riley went to his locker for certain paraphernalia he always had on his person when engaged on a particular case.
“I like that guy,” Muggs confided in a whisper.
“The chief?”
“Naw! This Riley. I’m glad he’s goin’ to be along.”
“If I needed a recommendation for Riley—which luckily I do not—that would be the best I could get,” Roger said, and he meant every word of it.
“I think the three of us can make the Black Star look like a sucker!”
“You don’t want to underestimate the Black Star, Muggs. Whenever you feel inclined to do so, remember a certain smash behind the ear he gave you recently when you thought his hands were tied.”
“He’ll never do it again!” Muggs declared. “If I ever get my lamps on that man again I’ll forget how to turn my head!”
Riley returned, and the three went out to the roadster.