Muggs knew that it would take his master some time to get there from the apartment house, and he hoped that Landers would remain in the hotel until Verbeck arrived. Muggs began speculating, too, as to the identity of the two Misses Whaley. Probably they were members of the Black Star's organization.

Muggs was doomed to disappointment. Before ten minutes had passed, he saw Landers come from the hotel and start walking up the street. Muggs wheeled the roadster, and followed slowly. Landers was on the opposite side.

"I hope he don't look this way and spot me!" Muggs growled. "He sure would remember this car. There ain't another like it in town, and he saw plenty of it when we were after the big crook before. I sure hope he don't look this way!"

It appeared that Muggs was to have his wish. Landers walked briskly down the street for three blocks, and then stepped to the curb. A big touring car was standing there, and Landers spoke to the chauffeur and sprang in. The car started down the avenue, and Muggs followed in the roadster.

The touring car cut across the city, following the boulevards and keeping away from the busy streets, and it appeared to Muggs that the chauffeur was trying to make speed. After a time it turned into the street that led to the river drive, and the speed became higher.

"Drivin' for his health, is he?" Muggs asked himself, and then answered: "Not any, he ain't. That bird's got all the health he needs. It's coin he's after—other folks' coin!"

Mile after mile Muggs followed the car ahead, now creeping up closer when there was traffic, now dropping behind so there would be no suspicion that he was deliberately following. Muggs knew that the roadster he was driving could overhaul the other car at any time. He had made a note of the other car's number, too.

Then they reached the pleasure resort, and the car ahead turned in. Muggs promptly followed.

"Must be out for his health, after all," he mused. "Maybe he's goin' to meet some more of the gang out here. It'd be a good place at that, in all this crowd."

On seeing Landers get out, he parked the roadster and followed his man. Landers walked down to the water front and watched the bathers. Muggs watched him from a corner where he could not be seen. He saw that Landers glanced around now and then, as if to search for some one, or to see whether there was an enemy near.

Then Landers began walking along the shore of the river, and presently turned into a little grove and made his way toward a road that ran through the woods.

"Now we get it!" Muggs said. "Here's where he meets some of the gang. I wish the boss was here!"

Muggs followed him cautiously through the woods, careful not to attract attention. They came to a lane, and Landers turned down it, glanced around, and then began walking faster.

Muggs remained in the woods, but followed as swiftly as he could. He managed to keep Landers in sight. After a time he saw his quarry leave the lane and plunge into the woods again, cut through them, and come out where there was a clearing and an old farmhouse in the midst of a grove of trees.

Crouching behind a clump of brush, Muggs watched Landers stoop and pick up something. The man's back was turned and Muggs could not see what he was doing. Presently he got up, walked to the gate, stood there a moment, and then opened it and passed inside. He took great care, Muggs thought, to see that the gate was closed and latched again.

The valet remained where he was for several minutes, and then crept forward under the brush until he reached the spot where he had seen Landers stoop. He felt around there—and found a telephone.

"Ha!" Muggs said to himself. "This is a funny thing to find around here. He phoned before he opened that gate, too! I've got an idea that fence ain't a pleasant thing to touch, and I ain't goin' to try it until I know. I wish the boss was here!"

He put the telephone back, crept on through the brush, and watched the house. There was nobody in sight.

"I'll bet that's the big crook's headquarters, or one of his branches where he plans things," Muggs told himself. "And I ain't man enough to tackle it alone. The thing for me to do is get back and phone the boss, and get him out here with a gang!"

Muggs started to back through the brush. He heard a step behind him, then whirled and tried to get to his feet. He found himself in the clutches of two men dressed as fishermen.

In his younger days, Muggs had enjoyed a reputation for being an excellent rough-and-tumble fighter. He still retained some of his strength and all his knowledge of how to conduct such a combat. He uttered no word, but went into action.

He kicked, struck, tried to bite and to get his thumbs into the eyes of one of his antagonists, ignoring all rules of fistic combat, striving only to be victor. But he found that he was fighting men who were used to such tactics.

Back and forth across the ground they fought and wrestled, until Muggs' breath was coming in gasps, he was seeing red, and he felt his strength going. Another fisherman crashed through the brush and threw himself into the fray—and Muggs went down from a blow to his chin.

He came back to consciousness to find two of the fishermen bending over him, one of them throwing water in his face. He struggled to get up, but they held him securely. Then he saw that he was not out of doors, but in the house.

"No more fightin' for you just now!" one of the fishermen growled at him.

"Let me up, and I'll show you!" Muggs said. "What you mean jumpin' me like you did?"

"What do you mean by snoopin' around and investigatin' things you ain't got any business investigatin'?"

"I don't remember investigatin' anything. Can't a man bum through the woods any more? Is there a law agin' it?"

"There is in this particular section of the woods," the fisherman replied. "And you needn't try to run any bluff, either. We watched you lookin' at that telephone—and we was watchin' you before that, trailin' a man."

"Yeh?" Muggs asked.

"Yeh! And now you're goin' to do a little explainin'."

"Let's see you make me!" Muggs exclaimed.

"We ain't goin' to try to make yeh. There's another man to do that. You get up and we'll tie your hands behind your back, in case you want to get violent and beat somebody up. And if you start a fight again, we'll just wallop the everlastin' face off you. Get me?"

They lifted Muggs up. He started to struggle, but was no match for them. They held him, and lashed his wrists together behind his back with fish cord. Then they thrust him along a narrow hall and to a door.

One of them pressed a button, and Muggs heard a bell tinkle. Then a buzzer sounded.

"In you go!" one of the fishermen said.

They opened the door and thrust him forward, and he heard the door slammed behind him. Muggs blinked his eyes rapidly, for the hall had been half dark, and the apartment in which he now stood was lighted brilliantly.

He saw a room with expensive furnishings. A long table was in the middle of it, heavy chairs were scattered around, and before him was a man dressed in a black robe, with a black mask on his face, and a flaming star of jet on his hood.

"Greetings, my dear Muggs!" the Black Star said. "I regret it if some of my men handled you roughly, but then you are inclined to violence yourself."

"You—you——" Muggs gasped.

"Be seated, Muggs. You must be fatigued after your recent exertions. I understand that you put up a good fight."

"I'll put up a better one if I ever get a chance at you!" Muggs growled. "I'll show you how to make fun of my boss in the newspapers! You big crook!"

"That is not an insult, my dear Muggs, but a compliment. I flatter myself that I am a big crook. Please sit down."

Muggs complied. He was still weak from the fight, and he felt that he wanted to gather what strength he could, for use in case an opportunity presented itself.

"I understand that you followed a certain member of my organization," the Black Star went on. "I have rebuked him for his carelessness. Since you have discovered my location, I cannot allow you your freedom, of course, and have you bring the police down upon me. I make it a point, as perhaps you learned before, to change my headquarters now and then. But I am very comfortable and safe here, and have no intention of moving for some time. So you are to be my guest, Muggs, until I do decide to move."

"That's what you say!" Muggs exclaimed.

"I scarcely think you'll escape, Muggs, if that is what is in your mind. And, if you behave yourself, I may show you some very interesting things. I shall feed you well, Muggs, and give you plenty of cigarettes. What more can man desire? I do this because I admire your loyalty to your employer. Perhaps, if I keep you prisoner, and so inform him, he will exert himself and add spice to our little game. Mr. Verbeck hasn't betrayed any great amount of cleverness recently, you know."

"Is that so?" Muggs retorted. "He could, if he wanted to, I guess! It looks as if you don't read the newspapers. My boss ain't in the game any more. He and the chief had a scrap!"

"Oh, my dear Muggs! Give me credit for having some intelligence, and some clever people in my organization. I happen to know that it is all a trick—and not a very clever trick at that. I know the arrangement he made with the chief. Thought I'd take my eyes off him, didn't he? Utter rot!"

"I tell you he had a scrap——"

"If that is so—if Verbeck is no longer trying to capture me—why do you betray so much interest in my affairs?" the Black Star demanded. "Why did you follow my man to-day? Why did you trail him through the woods? Muggs, your story is weak."

Muggs saw that it was, but he wasn't willing to admit it.

"I didn't say I had quit, did I?" he asked. "Maybe I'm after you on my own hook. There's a fat reward up, ain't there?"

"That's not at all clever, Muggs. But we need talk along this line no more. We understand each other, Muggs. You are my enforced guest for a time, and I trust that you'll appreciate my hospitality. If you start causing trouble, I shall be forced to descend to means I abhor—and use violence!"

"You untie my hands and take off that fool robe, and I'll give you all the violence you want!" Muggs cried. "Maybe I can't fight half a dozen thugs of your gang, but I can handle you, all right, without any help!"

"I fear that I must refuse to accept the challenge, Muggs. I have work to do, and it would be delayed if you happened to lay me up for a few days. Perhaps, some other time——"

"Yellow streak!" Muggs taunted.

"Take care!" the Black Star thundered angrily. "You may go too far, my man!"

"Don't you 'my man' me! Even my boss don't do that, and no crook's goin' to! Not on your life!"

"Then do not make me lose my temper," the Black Star said. "Go over to that couch and make yourself comfortable, Muggs. You may see and hear some interesting things. Since you are to be my guest for some time, until a certain thing is accomplished, I do not care how much you learn. I have an idea that some of my people are about to report."

Muggs, a sudden gleam in his eye, got up and went over to the couch. It was like the Black Star to let him overhear orders and commands; and there always was a chance that he could escape and give the alarm. He needed rest now to gather his strength. He would wait, learn all that he could, catch the Black Star off guard as soon as possible, and effect an escape.