The Black Star Part 3

Before the Black Star could make a move Verbeck's robe parted and his left hand emerged, holding the pistol ready for instant action. With his other hand he waved toward the armchair, and then he spoke:

"Sit down! And put your hands flat on the table!"

His eyes still glittering into Verbeck's, the criminal obeyed.

Standing at the end of the table, Verbeck confronted him, scarcely knowing what step to take next. The man before him did not speak, but those glittering eyes-burning, malevolent, ominous-seemed to cry out with surprise, hatred, and threats.

"So you are the Black Star?" Verbeck said. "Quite a comedy you play here, eh? Masks hide faces and blackboards take the place of spoken words. A very clever crook-you. But I said a clever man could find you, and I say it again. This is the best proof of it, isn't it? You challenged me-and I have come. So your man thought he had escaped, did he? If ever you see him again, tell him that his bonds were left loose purposely, so that he'd escape and could be shadowed here. Allow me, sir-Mr. Roger Verbeck, at your service!"

Verbeck raised a hand and tore off his mask, and bowed low in irony, meanwhile watching his victim, for he did not make the mistake of underestimating the cleverness of the man before him, and he was alert for tricks. He saw the Black Star's hands contract and his arms stiffen, and imagined the master crook calling down curses on the head of the man who had led enemies to his stronghold.

Then the Black Star spoke-in a low, penetrating voice, almost a monotone, obviously disguising his real tones.

"I suppose you think you are very clever?" he said.

"I don't advertise my cleverness like some persons, and then fail to live up to my estimation of myself," Verbeck replied.

"You have done something no outsider has done before-you have seen the Black Star in his workshop. That is, indeed, a rare privilege. And, of course, you'll pay for it in the end."

"You think so?" Verbeck asked.

"I presume you started out with the intention of handing me over to your stupid police. The greatest and most difficult thing, you perhaps thought, would be to locate me. Well, you have located me-and your task is but begun."

"Indeed?"

"It takes evidence to convict."

"Naturally," said Verbeck. "Suppose I call the police now. How about the robe and mask you wear, that star, these blackboards, those printed letters identical with ones that have been received by the police and the newspapers? Evidence? This room is full of it!"

"But, when you get right down to the point," said the Black Star, "you'll want evidence of theft and burglary, you know."

"I never heard of a gang yet where some one wouldn't turn state's evidence."

The Black Star chuckled, and through the slits in his mask his eyes seemed to be dancing with delight.

"That is just where my cleverness comes in," he said. "To show you how little I fear you, Roger Verbeck, I'll tell you things no man knows except myself. I can tell you, for instance-and it is the truth-that the Black Star does have a band working for him, but that not one of them ever saw his face or heard his voice."

"Nonsense."

"Not nonsense, but the truth. So certain am I as to what is going to happen to you, Roger Verbeck, that I'll reveal secrets and show you how useless it would be to fight me, before you-er-cease to trouble me further. I say no member of my band ever saw my face or heard my voice, and it is the truth. I say, moreover, that I never saw the face of one of my band or heard his voice, that I know nothing of their names or ident.i.ties, and, whenever a crime is committed, I do not know which person or group does the work. Can you understand that? Turn state's evidence, Mr. Verbeck? Not a man of them knows a thing to tell, except against himself."

"Rot!"

"The truth," said the Black Star. "Attend me closely. I reveal my methods to you, because you'll never pa.s.s them on. I began my work years ago. I have a genuine partner, who is not in this city at the present time. When I decided to invade this town he came here. He rented this old house and fixed up this one room in it. The furnishings were carted one at a time, and they were unloaded several blocks away and fetched here at night. When everything was ready, I came.

"My gang? This one man who knows me got the gang together. Every one of them is an expert in his particular time. Each was eager to work under me, for I am in a position to insure success and big profits. My organization extends farther than you dream. Each man was fetched here and taught what to do. Here he comes to get orders and to report.

There is no conversation except on the blackboard; and masks are always worn.

"At the first, these men drew numbers out of a box, and in addition I gave each a countersign. I issue orders by number, and they report by number. If I was on the witness stand at this moment and wanted to betray my men I couldn't do it. I could only say that a certain crime was committed by Number One, for instance-but if all were lined up before me I couldn't swear they were members of my band, because I'd not know. Do you understand that, Mr. Roger Verbeck? Very clever, eh?

We work together, yet were we to pa.s.s on the street we'd not dream we knew one another. Absolute protection-you see? Hand me over to the police this minute-if you can-and it will avail you nothing. No jury would convict on the evidence that could be presented. And my organization, in a hundred different ways, would come to my rescue."

"I thought none of them knew you," said Verbeck.

"That is the truth. You do not understand everything yet. I have a band of men who do the real work. And I have an organization that collects knowledge I must have. Every man and woman in that organization has a very good reason for being loyal to me--"

"Women?"

"Yes," said the Black Star. "Many women! People in every walk of life.

And, naturally, I have arranged it so that I could harm them, but they never could harm me. I heard of your foolish boast of last night, didn't I? How do you suppose I knew that? And I can tell you the combination of the safe in your dressing room, Mr. Verbeck, if you are skeptical, and tell you also that there is nothing in it at the present time that we desire. There is a bundle of stock certificates and deeds in the upper right-hand pigeonhole, and a score or more old coins in a drawer at the bottom."

"How do you know that?" Verbeck demanded.

"I know a mult.i.tude of things, Mr. Verbeck. Get this idea in your head-I do not know the names or faces of my real workers, but I do know the ident.i.ties of those who gather my information. I know them, and could punish them-but they do not know me. Tidy little arrangement? I fancy you'll not find a flaw in it."

"You have deluded yourself into thinking it is perfect," replied Verbeck. "Suppose one of your crooks is captured while committing a crime, and brings the police down on you to save himself?"

"He would not. If he kept his mouth closed, the organization would save him. If he played traitor, the organization would save me and see that he got the limit. I could convince you if I wished to talk more, but I do not; I must protect the organization as it protects me. You have pitted your cleverness against mine, Mr. Verbeck, and you have been successful in your first attempt-you have located me. And now what are you going to do about it?"

"Suppose I hand you over to the police?"

"Even if you could do that-and I am not admitting it-you'd be laughed at in the end, and I'd probably conclude by suing you for heavy damages. Believe me when I say everything has been thought of, and for every attack there is a defense arranged. Also, to hand me over to the police would be to warn all the others, and you'd have a difficult time convicting me without their testimony. And there is another thing--"

The Black Star hesitated.

"Say it!" said Verbeck.

"I have said that my organization is far-reaching. If you meddled in my affairs, the chickens might come home to roost. You are up against something regarding the magnitude of which you know very little, Mr.

Verbeck. I have only just begun my organization in this city, but already it is broad enough to cause you pain and chagrin, did I put it to work."

"I suppose," said Verbeck, "that you imagine you are going to frighten me by this lot of pointless talk."

"You may be a very clever man in some things, Mr. Verbeck, but in this you are no better than a babe. Did I take the fancy to do so, I could make you one of my organization, too. But you have gone too far for that-you have discovered too much."

"You'd make me join your band of crooks!" exclaimed Verbeck, laughing.

"I could force you to be a loyal and obedient member, believe me, if such was my desire. You do not realize, sir, the strength of the Black Star and his band. You do not realize how very little you know. You have heard my voice, that is true, and you have seen my workshop-but even you, Roger Verbeck, have not seen my face."

"And what is to prevent me taking a look at it now?"

"This," said the Black Star. "You are standing at the end of the table with a pistol in your hand. I am seated, and my hands are on the table before me, so that you could fill me full of lead before I could get a weapon from beneath my robe. But the toe of my left shoe, Mr. Verbeck, is resting on a b.u.t.ton in the floor-a b.u.t.ton that works a trigger-and you are standing over a cement-lined pit twelve feet deep. Before you could shoot, my toe would press the b.u.t.ton-so! And down you go, Mr.

Verbeck, through the floor and into the pit, and the trapdoor comes up again-so!-and you are a prisoner in the darkness-you who tried to match wits with the Black Star!"

It all had happened in a second of time. A section of the floor had swung downward with a crash, and Roger Verbeck had been dashed to the bottom of the pit. The one shot he fired went wild, the bullet burying itself in the ceiling. The trapdoor closed again-and the Black Star, standing at the end of the table now, threw back his head and laughed uproariously.

And the laughter died in his throat as he sank suddenly to the floor!

For Muggs was through the door as Verbeck shot downward, and the b.u.t.t of his automatic had crashed against the Black Star's head just behind the left ear.