“That’s a hard question to answer,” Verbeck replied. “He’s liable to do almost anything that means profit. You want to remember that he had an organization that was collecting information for him, as I discovered. He knows more than we think. He has combinations of safes, knows the personal habits of people, knows—oh, everything that a crook would want to know if he pulled off a job! The information I found tabulated at his headquarters was all concerning jewels to be worn at the Charity Ball, but Heaven alone knows, besides himself, what he had gathered in the way of facts before that.”
“But he said he’d commit the greatest crime since he’d got to town,” Riley went on. “What could that be? He’s turned some pretty good tricks, you’ll remember.”
“He might get into the vault of the First National,” Verbeck offered.
“No chance! That’s the finest——”
“Pardon me, Riley. Fine vaults and burglar-proof affairs do not seem to bother the Black Star. You remember how he robbed the safety-deposit boxes of the National Trust, don’t you?”
“Well, what would be something big he could do?” the detective asked.
“He goes after money, but jewels are his particular delight, if I have judged the man correctly,” Verbeck said. “He has some perfect arrangement for disposing of them at a profit, I suppose. And there are half a hundred places he could make a rich haul of jewels. He’s what might be called a jewel fiend, Riley. He—— Ah!”
“What’s the matter?” Riley asked, looking up quickly and stopping his pacing.
“I have an idea.”
“If it’s anything that will help us catch the Black Star or bring him out of his hole so we can chase him, for Heaven’s sake let us have it!” Riley cried.