Roger Verbeck and the chief looked at the sheriff aghast. His announcement had startled them. In his previous career of crime, the master criminal had raided that establishment, and had almost wrecked it because he removed so many assets.

"How do you know that, Kowen?" the chief demanded.

The sheriff told the story, not sparing himself, for he wanted to convince the men before him, and now that the recapture of the Black Star seemed so near, he could afford to speak the truth.

He related the story of Mamie Blanchard's first visit to his office, and of how he had trailed her after meeting her on the street.

"That woman," said Verbeck, after Kowen had described her carefully, "is a member of the old organization, and is known as The Princess. She caused us a lot of trouble before."

"She certainly did!" the chief admitted. "She is almost as clever as the Black Star, is trusted by him, and handles a lot of his work. We didn't get her when we caught the Black Star and smashed his old gang, and we had supposed that she had left the country—possibly had gone to South America. She came from Brazil, originally."

Then Kowen continued his story, and told of finding the papers on the table in the basement.

"That's the part of it I don't like," Verbeck said. "It isn't like the master crook to leave papers like those scattered around."

"Didn't you get into his old headquarters once and find papers and orders there?" the sheriff demanded.

"I did, I'll admit. But really I do not like the appearance of this. Describe that basement room to me again, Kowen."

The sheriff did so.

"Well, you seem to have described the room I saw last night," Roger Verbeck said. "Perhaps you are right; but I think we are assuming too much when we think the Black Star's people are not aware of the visit of you and your men there. It would be more like him to have the place watched continually."

"It all looks good to me," the chief put in. "I happen to know that the National Trust Company has a lot of gold in its vault just now—and you can bet that the Black Star knows it, too. That organization of his is a wonder. Why, my own secretary might belong to it, for all I know. We found a police captain in the old one, remember."

"Well, what are we going to do about it?" the sheriff asked.

"What have you to suggest? It's your game," the chief reminded him.

"I've got to have the help of the police, of course," Kowen replied. "I haven't men enough, and this job calls for trained men. I think we should combine forces."

"Certainly," the chief agreed.

"We ought to have a gang around the block that contains that cottage, ready to nab anybody that goes in or comes out; and we ought to be ready for the crook and his gang at the National Trust."

"How do you want to work it?" the chief asked. "Do you want to watch the cottage with your men?"

"I'll send some of my men there, and you do the same," Kowen replied. "And we'll both have men around the bank. I want to be there when the big row comes off. Let's figure it out!"

"Mr. Verbeck is in command of this, as far as I am concerned," the chief informed him.

"That suits me," the sheriff replied.

They spent an hour perfecting their plans, and then the chief began issuing his orders. Those orders went to officers in all parts of the city. They were of such a nature that the Black Star, if some confederate reported them to him, would not be exactly sure what they meant, except that the chief of police expected him to attempt some gigantic crime and would have his men in readiness.

"If you see that Blanchard woman again, put her in the jug!" the chief told the sheriff. "If you are afraid of a suit for damages, turn her over to me. I'm not! She's The Princess, and there is a little charge pending against her right now. Don't forget that."

"If I had arrested her to-day, I wouldn't have found the crook's headquarters," Kowen retorted. "But I'll nab her if I see her again, all right!"

The sheriff, well pleased with the arrangements that had been made, left police headquarters and hurried to his own office, to give orders to his own men. Kowen was exceedingly well pleased with himself. Even the chief of police, his ancient enemy, admitted that he had done the work. Kowen could see, in fancy, the newspapers of the following morning, with their glowing accounts of how, within twenty-four hours after the Black Star's escape, he had located the crook's headquarters, had learned his plans, and had captured him again and broken up his band. That should be political capital, Sheriff Kowen thought.

He reached his office, called his chief deputy, and gave him instructions. He warned the man that orders should be issued carefully so that the Black Star might not learn what was planned.

"We don't want to let that crook think we are wise to his game," Kowen said. "If he does, he'll simply move his headquarters and call off this little robbery. Then we'll have to start all over again—and I want to get that man back in a cell before to-morrow. Newspapers and public jump on me, will they? To-morrow they'll be saying how great I am!"

The chief of police had remained in his office to make further plans. Roger Verbeck left, and went out to the roadster. He ordered Muggs to drive to a certain corner across the city. That meant that Roger Verbeck had some deep thinking to do, for, when he had not, he drove the big roadster himself. So Muggs, with a thousand questions trembling on his lips, kept silent, though he looked at Verbeck reproachfully now and then.

Muggs reached the corner Verbeck had designated, and glanced around scornfully. Muggs did not favor this section of the city. It reminded him too much of certain quarters of Paris where he had existed in years gone by, when he had been a criminal.

"Wait here," Verbeck said.

"Aw, boss, ain't I in on this?" Muggs protested.

"Want to have the car tagged for being left longer than the law allows on this street?" Verbeck demanded. "If I am not back in twenty minutes, drive around the block and wait on the opposite corner—and keep that up until I do put in an appearance."

"This ain't a sweet end of town," Muggs said.

"Are you feeling a certain amount of alarm for me, Muggs? Have you an idea that I cannot take care of myself, in broad daylight?"

"Aw!" Muggs exclaimed, in huge disgust.

"You'll get plenty of action, Muggs, before this thing is over, if that is what is bothering you," Verbeck said. "What I am going to do just now calls for one man, and only one."

Verbeck walked down the street, and Muggs hunched down behind the wheel and glared at those who passed.

Verbeck turned the first corner and disappeared, as far as Muggs was concerned. He journeyed another block, turned another corner, and so approached the little cottage that Sheriff Kowen had investigated. He walked past it slowly, and glanced at the building. There was no sign of life about it.

Verbeck went on around the block and turned into the alley. He found the little door in the wall, but there appeared to be no way of opening it from the outside. He hurried on through the alley and made his way to the front again. If this was, in reality, the Black Star's headquarters, Verbeck did not want to spoil things by having some of the band see him loitering in the neighborhood.

He returned to the roadster, told Muggs to drive him home, and grinned at the look of disgust in Muggs' face.

"Ain't I in on this at all, boss?" Muggs wanted to know. "Gee! When we was after that big crook before, you let me know everything. Don't you trust me no more?"

"Certainly I trust you!" Verbeck told him. "You know that I do! But why bother you with minor details? In other words, Muggs, I am not sure of anything yet."

Reaching his rooms, Roger Verbeck spent the remainder of the day reading books, as if the Black Star and his band did not exist and call for thought. He ordered dinner earlier than usual, and then dressed in a plain dark suit, and put on a soft cap.

"Into the roadster again, old boy," he told Muggs. "Drive me to the same corner."

Muggs did so gladly; but when the corner was reached, he was disgusted once more to find that Verbeck wanted him to remain with the car.

"I don't seem to be nothin' but a chauffeur," he complained to the world at large. "I used to amount to somethin', but I guess I don't any more."

"Muggs, I told you that this is a one-man job," Verbeck said. "And I am the one man!"

He walked on down the street, chuckling at Muggs' grumbling. He passed the little cottage once more. There seemed to be no lights inside it. The yard about it was in pitch darkness, for the glare of the street lights was cut off by the high buildings on either side, by the billboards in front and the alley wall behind.

Verbeck slipped inside the yard. For a time he stood against the billboard and listened, and then he went forward like a shadow, and finally reached a corner of the cottage.

He made his way around the building, listening at doors and windows. He found a window unlatched, and raised it inch by inch, without making the slightest noise. A moment later, Roger Verbeck was inside the house.

He held his electric torch ready, and his automatic. Not a sound reached his ears to indicate the presence of any other human being in the house. Verbeck flashed the torch, located a door, passed through it, and was in the kitchen.

There he found the door leading to the basement, and listened beside it for some time. Then he opened it, slowly, cautiously, a bit at a time. There was no light in the basement.

Verbeck propped the door open with a chair, and descended the steps carefully, not flashing his torch. He reached the bottom, listened for some time, and then pressed the button. The shaft of light flashed across the room.

"Kowen was right—this is the place!" Verbeck told himself. "The furniture—everything seems to be the same. But I don't like it. It doesn't seem right, at all. I never knew the Black Star to be careless like this before."

Verbeck flashed his electric torch again and looked carefully around the room. He even walked across to the table and read the orders Sheriff Kowen had found there. The house was being watched by the police and deputies by this time, Verbeck knew, for the men had received orders to take up their positions soon after nightfall. The officers could be depended upon to capture anybody who visited the cottage.

Verbeck went back up the steps, crept through the house, and got out through the window by which he had entered, and which he now closed again. As he moved away from the house, an officer spoke to him.

"I thought that was you, Mr. Verbeck," he said. "Have you been inside?"

"Yes. There is nobody there now," Verbeck replied. "Is the door in the alley wall being watched?"

"Yes, sir," said the officer. "We've got good men scattered all around the place. If that big crook or any of his people come near here, they'll be nabbed!"

Verbeck hurried up the street and sprang into the roadster, smiling at Muggs' sour look.

"Drive to police headquarters, Muggs," he directed. "We'll stay there until a little before midnight, and then we'll go to the National Trust Company with the chief and his men, and watch for the Black Star. If he really attempts to rob that place to-night, he is going to be caught in the act."

"I'd like to get my two hands on him!" Muggs growled.

"Perhaps you'll have the chance," Verbeck said.

"If I do," Muggs said, "you can bet that the big crook will have a sore throat for a month!"