# Black Star's Subterfuge/Chapter 11

pp. 68-71.

### CHAPTER XI.
#### ON THE BLACKBOARD.

RILEY and Muggs blocked the doorway.
"Better keep every one out except a choice few," Riley said to the chief, in a low voice. "You come, and Mr. Verbeck—possibly one of the captains—that'll be enough."
Something in the tone of his voice caused the chief to look at him with quick suspicion, and caused Roger Verbeck to glance with apprehension at Muggs. But neither Riley nor Muggs gave them a sign as to what they were to expect.
The chief, however, took the hint. He selected one captain to go along, and ordered another to guard the doorway and keep every one out of the building for the present. The mayor had not been courageous enough to leave the gate.
Flashing his electric torch, Riley led the way down the hall and steps, and to the door of the headquarters room, the others crowding after him. Verbeck got a chance to whisper to Muggs:
"What is it?"
"Just another little trick."
"But——"
"Wait, boss—you'll have to see it!"
The door of the headquarters room was closed, but Riley threw it open, and they stepped inside. The chief and his captain gasped when they saw the rich furnishings. But they were not new to Verbeck, and his glance wandered elsewhere. Everything seemed the same as when he had been there before, except——
There was a phonograph, with a gigantic horn, on the mahogany table.
"The Black Star—his men——" the chief implored.
"None here!" Riley answered.
"Nonsense! They couldn't have escaped! Unless there's a tunnel of some sort——"
"There is no tunnel. Neither the Black Star nor any of his men has been in this building since you arrived."
"But——" the bewildered chief gasped. "Why—nonsense! Haven't they been shooting at us? Haven't we heard him screeching to his crooks?"
Riley pointed to the phonograph.
"That is what you heard," he said.
"But the shooting——"
"Let me tell it in my own way, chief, and we'll get at it quicker. After I was put out by that blamed vapor gun—which the Black Star kindly explained to me afterward—I came back to life to find that Verbeck and Muggs had been taken away. I supposed, naturally, that they had been doped first, and would be unable to find the place again. Since I did know the whereabouts of this place, I supposed the Black Star intended to keep me where I'd not do him any harm. The first thing he did was to assure me I'd not meet with violence—and that Verbeck soon would be back."
"But——"
"Wait, chief! I want you to get this straight. After that, the Black Star went ahead to explain a few things, gave me the laugh, took off his robe and mask, put on his coat and hat, and bade me adieu as cheerfully as you please. That was within ten minutes after Muggs and Verbeck had been taken away—and I've been the only man in this building since until Muggs stumbled in here a few minutes ago."
"Nonsense! The shooting——" the chief persisted.
"Oh, there is an explanation of all that! By the way, what time is it?"
"Three o'clock!" answered the captain, after glancing at his watch.
"Then he's done it!"
"Done what?" the chief cried.
"Got away with a hundred thousand in gold coin. He said he was going to, didn't he?"
"But the shooting——" The chief could think of nothing else.
"Look at the two blackboards," Riley said. "You'll find your explanation there. Read the one to your right first."
They whirled to read. Verbeck, with sinking heart, was reading it already. And this was the message the Black Star had left:
   To Roger Verbeck and any others it may concern: If you are reading this, it probably means that all my plans have been successful, as they are generally.
   I have scant time, and must be brief. First, this is not really my new headquarters, but one fitted up for this special occasion. I arranged to have Verbeck or Muggs abducted and carried here. Accidentally, both were captured, but that made no difference. I allowed them to overhear certain plans, knowing that afterward they would help carry them out.
   Detective Riley's arrival was unexpected, and threatened disaster, but happily I gained the upper hand. I will leave him here, and trust he meets with no harm.
   Mr. Verbeck. your struggle to keep from inhaling the vapor was amusing, since there was no sleep-producing vapor in the gun used on you. It was a harmless gas instead. It was intended that you were to think you were outwitting me by remaining conscious. I knew you would strive to make sure of the location of this building. The same plan would have been worked with Muggs, had he been captured alone.
   It was very clever of you to take the chalk, and I doubt not you marked everything along your way. You have departed now, feigning unconsciousness, and I must hurry away. Just a few words then, to tell you what will happen.
"Now read the other blackboard," Riley said. "Oh, it is interesting, all right—the crook!"
They turned to the second blackboard, and read:
   You, Mr. Verbeck—and I'd wager my life on it—will send an alarm to police headquarters as soon as you reach home and regain consciousness, for my man will use the real vapor gun on you before you separate—to give me time to get away.
   You will find your way here again as soon as possible, to rescue Riley and catch me. When you arrive, you'll be fired upon.
   A disturbance will be created, and police reserves sent for. The firing from this building will be heavy. The chief, eager to catch me, will call for more men. You'll start a siege. You'll batter this old building with bullets. You'll receive bullets in return. You'll hear my voice urging my men to die game.
   Presently you'll rush in—and find this! And while the town is attracted by this disturbance and the business district left practically unprotected, I'll get my hundred thousand in gold. I'll not make the attempt, of course, unless you do start a siege.
The writing ended, for the blackboard was filled with it.
"But the shooting——" the chief exclaimed again.
"Here is the rest of it—written on a sheet of paper," Riley said. "The Black Star left it on the table. Read this."
He handed it to the chief, who read it aloud:
   The phonograph is simple—it has an electric connection and holds a special record made from my voice.
   As to the volleys of shots—and I trust no one is injured, for if so it will be an accident—that is simple, too. Examine the building, and fastened in the windows you'll find automatics. You never saw any exactly like them before; they are an invention of a good friend of mine. You'll notice the cartridges are fed from a belt containing a hundred rounds of ammunition. Since there are fifteen guns, that will make some shooting. You'll notice, too, that the guns are operated by electricity. You'll find wires, and if you trace them they will lead you to a cheap lodging house three blocks away. Do not blame the lodging-house people, for they are innocent.
   One of my men, sitting in a room there, has a good view of the factory. He touches a button, and a gun is fired. He plays a keyboard, and you get a volley. Another button starts or stops the phonograph, and you hear me shriek encouragement to my men. Quite simple, is it not?
   I have been to some trouble and expense fitting up this fake headquarters, but I am sure my profit will be great. Please be kind to the furniture I am leaving behind. And tell yourselves again you cannot cope with the Black Star.
   And now go out and explain to the newspaper men what became of the band of desperate crooks you besieged in the factory. It ought to make interesting reading!
Muggs gave a snort of disgust and turned away from the table. Roger Verbeck's eyes met those of Detective Riley, and each read determination in the other's countenance. The Black Star had evaded them again, but the end was not yet.
"And I've got to tell the newspaper men!" the chief exclaimed. "That gold—I wonder if he got it—and from where!"
His answer came immediately. A sergeant of detectives hurried to them from the hall.
"Chief!" he cried. "Word just came from headquarters. There's been a consulate robbed. Got a fortune in gold yesterday at noon, to buy war stuff. Thought they were keeping it quiet, I suppose. The Black Star knew about it, though. His men robbed the vault and left the watchman on the floor, bound and gagged, with a black star pasted on his forehead. It's a hundred thousand in gold coin! Consul's frantic!"
"Yes," said the chief wearily, "it seems the Black Star knew about it!"
Johnston McCulley—John Mack Stone being the nom de plume under which the first two of this series of novelettes were written—is writing another novelette dealing with the Black Star and the efforts of Roger Verbeck to capture him. You can look forward to soon having the pleasure of reading this story—and Mr. McCulley says that it is his best Black Star story so far.