The chief of police, notified by Sheriff Kowen that the Black Star had been rescued cleverly by members of his band, dressed quickly and hurried to police headquarters, there to go into his private office and rave and fume, and relate to the world that Sheriff Kowen was an official who knew not the meaning of precaution and efficiency.

"That's what he gets for being a bug on raiding gambling joints!" the chief cried. "Anybody would have known it was a plant—anybody with brains. We fight that fiend of a Black Star for more than a year, Roger Verbeck finally lands him, we convict the brute and have him handed a stiff sentence—and then an idiotic sheriff allows him to escape! Now I suppose we are in for another reign of terror, with every newspaper in town telling the dear public that the police are fit candidates for some old lady's home!"

There was a lot more of this, while captains and lieutenants, sergeants and roundsmen held their peace and hoped that their superior would not make this an occasion for reprimanding them for some fancied mistake. The chief had worked his way up from the ranks; he was endowed with more brute force than intelligence, and he was a bad man when aroused.

"Call Roger Verbeck's apartment, and get him on the wire!" the chief commanded.

The desk sergeant tried it immediately. He reported that the apartment house did not answer. The chief made a few remarks about sleeping telephone operators, and ordered the desk sergeant to try again. Not getting a reply immediately, the chief called two detectives, ordered them to hurry to Verbeck's place and acquaint him with the news, and to have Verbeck get in communication with the chief at once.

"The first thing the Black Star will do, will be to get hold of Verbeck!" the chief declared. "He'll probably put Verbeck out of the way if we don't prevent it. Verbeck caught him before, and he'll have to do it again. I've got a police force composed of idiots, imbeciles and blockheads! They couldn't catch a turtle walking across the street!"

At about the same moment the chief of police was indulging in this tirade, Muggs groaned, tried to turn over and found that he could not, experienced nausea, wondered whether he was being taken down with some disease—and then made the discovery that he was bound and gagged and lashed to the bed.

Having made that discovery, Muggs forced himself to breathe normally, composed himself, and tried to think. The last he remembered, he had retired, started to fall asleep, and had dropped into the middle of a not unpleasant dream. Now it appeared that there had been violence, and he had known nothing of it.

"Burglars!" Muggs thought at first. "Doped while I slept, and tied up like this! I wonder if the boss——"

The mere thought that something disastrous might have happened to Roger Verbeck moved Muggs to instant action. He struggled with his bonds, and at first believed that they could not be slipped; but finally he found a knot that gave a trifle, and he redoubled his efforts, working in a frenzy, his imagination picturing Roger Verbeck robbed and slain.

After a time the knot gave, and Muggs managed to get his hands free. He removed the gag and started working at the cords about his ankles.

"Boss! Boss!" he called.

There came no answer from Verbeck's room. Muggs managed to get off the last rope, and sprang from the bed. Immediately he reeled and fell back again.

"I'm—sick!" Muggs gasped weakly. "That was—some dope! I wonder what it——"

And then it came to him.

"I know that feelin' in my head and that taste in my mouth!" he told himself. "Vapor gun! I've had enough doses of it before to know! The—the Black Star——"

But the Black Star was safe in a cell in the county jail, and due to be taken to the penitentiary in a few hours, Muggs tried to tell himself. However, Muggs did not have a lot of faith in jails, having escaped from them twice himself before Roger Verbeck saved his life and made a man of him.

Once more he started to get up from the bed, this time slowly and cautiously. He did not experience the nausea now, and though he still felt weak, yet he managed to stagger across the room toward the door.

He went into Verbeck's bedchamber and snapped on the lights. Verbeck was not there. The room was in confusion. Verbeck's clothes, that Muggs had put out for use in the morning, were gone, and his pajamas were on the floor in a corner.

Muggs hurried to the bed. It was there, pasted on the headpiece—a tiny black star!

"If he hurt my boss——" Muggs began, almost sobbing.

And then he felt moved to sudden action again. He rushed into the living room and to the telephone. He rattled the hook frantically, and presently heard the operator's reply.

"I want the police!" Muggs cried into the transmitter. "Mr. Verbeck is gone—been taken away!"

"Say! There are a couple of detectives here now to see Mr. Verbeck," the operator replied. "They're coming right up!"

Muggs darted back into his own room and began dressing with such speed that he was almost fully clothed when the officers knocked at the door. Muggs hurried to let them in.

"What's this about Mr. Verbeck?" one of them asked.

"The Black Star's got him!" Muggs cried. "They doped us while we slept, and——"

"I guess I can tell you all about that," the detective interrupted. "They put out the night clerk and the telephone operator with those cursed vapor guns."

"And Mr. Verbeck is gone! They must have taken him! We've got to find him! There's a black star—pasted on his bed——"

"The chief just sent us up to see Verbeck about this business. The Black Star's gang rescued their leader to-night—turned him loose. He left a note saying that he was going to raid the town."

"Well, why stand here and gas about it?" Muggs demanded. "Don't you understand that the Black Star's got my boss? He put the big crook in jail before, and you can probably guess what he'll get handed to him for it now, if the Black Star is loose!"

"Well, what can we do?" one of the detectives asked. "All we found out was that there was a closed auto out in front, and three or four men with it. If they carried Verbeck away, it's a wild guess where they took him. This town has some size, remember, and the Black Star and his gang are smooth customers."

"You're a fine lot of detectives!" Muggs sneered. "You don't know what to do, huh? Expect to find him by standin' around here smokin' cheap cigars? Why don't you talk to headquarters and tell what you know? Get busy!"

One of the detectives called the station and made his report to the chief. The police reporters were electrified by the statement that Roger Verbeck had been abducted by members of the master crook's organization. At the time the Black Star was arrested, he had sworn to have vengeance on Verbeck, and though he claimed that he abhorred violence, and seldom resorted to it, there were fears and misgivings lest Verbeck's body be found in some lonely spot, a black star pasted on the forehead.

The chief had not been idle. Every officer in the city was alert. The police knew that the master criminal must have a headquarters somewhere, and that it was their duty to locate it. Until he was under arrest again, and his band broken up, he was a constant menace. He was liable to strike at any part of the city, at any moment of day or night. The blow might fall upon one of the big banks, or upon some social gathering where a fortune in jewels could be obtained.

News of Verbeck's abduction was flashed to all officers as soon as possible. Roads leading from the city were under guard, and all vehicles were being stopped and their occupants questioned. Arrangements had been made to quiz real estate and rental firms in the morning, ascertain every recent lease, and investigate it. The chief had given out word that the headquarters of the master criminal had to be found, and without delay.

Muggs journeyed to headquarters with the two detectives, and told all that he knew. And then he paced the chief's private office, raging, begging them to do something, to give him only as much as a clew regarding where Roger Verbeck had been taken, and he, Muggs, would rescue him alone.

In vain the chief attempted to quiet Muggs.

"He's my boss—he ain't yours!" Muggs shrieked. "He saved my life and he showed me how to make a man of myself! Maybe you don't care what becomes of him, but I do. And if that big crook harms him, I'll get Mr. Black Star if it takes me the rest of my life, and I'll choke the life out of him with my bare hands!"

"Muggs, we're doing all that we can!" the chief protested.

"What are you doin'? Yellin' over the telephone to a bunch of cops and havin' them run around in circles?"

"But we can't do anything else!" the chief cried. "All we can do is——"

The bell of his telephone rang. The chief whirled around and took down the receiver.

"Hello!" he cried.

"Hello!" a man's voice answered. "Well, well, it is some time since I had the pleasure of speaking to you over a telephone wire, chief."

"Who is this?" the chief cried. "We're pretty busy here to-night, and——"

"I suppose that is all my fault. Don't you recognize my voice? I am the Black Star!"

"Oh, are you?" the chief shouted. "Well, you put one over on Sheriff Kowen, but we'll pick you up before long!"

"You think so?" the Black Star asked, laughing.

"I know it, you crook! We'll get you, and we'll get the men and women of that gang of yours!"

"Well, well! You are talking violently, chief—but you always were inclined to violence."

"I'll be violent enough when I get my hands on you, all right!"

"And I just called you up to give you some information. Are you concerned about Roger Verbeck? One of my men reported a few minutes ago that you were. You see, I am keeping in touch with you, chief. I know every order you issue, every plan you make."

"What about Verbeck?"

"Don't worry about him. I had him taken to my headquarters so I could have a little conversation with him. Half an hour ago he was dropped, drugged, and unconscious, at the edge of one of the city parks. No doubt he will be with you soon."

"Your headquarters, huh?" the chief cried. "We'll locate that little place within twenty-four hours, if it is in the city!"

"You think so? I assure you that it is in the city—and perhaps in a quarter where you'd least expect to find it. I scarcely think you can find it inside twenty-four hours, chief. Besides, you are going to be very busy before then."

"I am, eh?"

"You are," the Black Star said. "You will be wondering how we did it."

"Did what?"

"What it is that we are going to do—the first blow, chief!"

"Lost your nerve, have you? You used to tell us what you were going to do, and dare us to catch you at it."

"Chief, your work is too coarse. Trying to anger me into telling you my plans, are you? It cannot be done to-night, chief. But I'll tell you this much—we intend making quite a haul! Expenses have been heavy recently, you know, and I must have a sort of indemnity."

"You'll get something worse than that when we get our hands on you!" the exasperated chief cried. "You'll go up for life when we catch you!"

"Catch me first!" the Black Star suggested. "By the way, some of my men left Muggs bound and gagged when they carried Verbeck away. You should see that he is released."

"He has been—he's here."

Muggs thrust the chief aside and grasped the receiver.

"Yes, he's here, you big crook!" Muggs cried. "He'll be on hand when you're caught, too, and then you want to look out for yourself! Kidnap my boss, will you?"

"Why, Muggs, how violent you are!"

"You—you——" Muggs sputtered. "When I get hold of you, I'll make you think you never saw or heard tell of that violence stuff before! I'll show you some real violence, you crook!"

"Tut, tut, Muggs! You'll be working yourself into a passion, my dear boy. By the way, Muggs, tell the chief that he need not bother about tracing this telephone call. I have tapped a private wire and am talking over it—understand?"

A click came over the wire, and it went dead. Muggs put up the receiver and turned away from the desk, growling.

The door of the office was thrown open—and Roger Verbeck hurried in.

"Boss! Boss!" Muggs cried.

"One minute, Muggs! We haven't time for a demonstration of affection at present. Well, chief, he had me nabbed, and I've seen the inside of his new headquarters."

"Know where they are?"

"I haven't the slightest idea. I was in an inside room—unconscious when taken there, and unconscious when they brought me away. I came back to life up in the park, where they had dropped me, got a taxi and hurried here. I suppose we have it all to do over again. We've got to catch that fiend, of course!"

"Will you help, Verbeck?" the chief cried. "Will you take the time and trouble?"

"You know it! Why, the Black Star challenged me again—said I couldn't catch him."

"You're in command, Verbeck, as you were the other time. Any orders now? Where shall we start in?"

"You're having the roads watched?"

"Of course."

"Throw out the dragnet and pick up what you can. Can't tell—might get a clew of some sort, you know. Get the rental agencies——"

"I've planned to do that."

"It probably will do no good, but it won't hurt any to try. The Black Star is too smooth to be caught in that way. His headquarters probably is in some house one of his band has owned and occupied for years."

"He just called up," Muggs put in. "He said we'd be busy within twenty-four hours."

"And the Black Star, as we know well, always keeps his word!" Roger Verbeck declared. "So his message probably means that he will strike his first blow to-morrow night—or, rather, to-night. But where? And what? Those are the questions."

"And all we can do——" the chief began.

"Is to wait until he strikes, and then take up the trail," Roger Verbeck added. "I found out one thing—he has some new people in his organization. He is using the blackboards again."

"What's that?" the chief asked.

"Each member of the band has a number and a countersign. Each enters the headquarters room robed and masked, and carries on the conversation by means of the blackboards. The Black Star issues his orders the same way. He handles them by number, and in his other organization the numbers were issued by one of his lieutenants."

"What's the use of all that?" the chief asked.

"It is very simple, chief. The Black Star may know what Number Eight or Number Ten does, but he doesn't know the identities of the persons with those numbers. He never could go on the witness stand and swear that a certain member of his band did a certain share of the work. Understand? It is a protection all around. On the other hand, the men could not swear that the Black Star issued the orders—it might be somebody else wearing the master crook's robe and mask. See?"

"He's a clever devil!" the chief grunted.

"He is!" Verbeck agreed. "We discovered that much before, remember. But we know his methods now, and that is a help. We will not make the mistake of underestimating him. It's all right to let him think so, and to talk like it when he calls up by telephone, but in truth we know we're up against a tough proposition, and we've got to act accordingly."

"You mean to say you think it's going to be a hard job landing him?" the chief asked.

"I mean just that," said Roger Verbeck. "But we'll get him!"

"You can bet we will!" added Mr. Muggs.