"My hunch was right," Muggs muttered. "I told the boss-that I had a hunch!"

He sat up again; the dizziness had pa.s.sed, but his head still pained.

He must act quickly, he kept telling himself over and over. Then the plan for which he had been groping flashed into his brain.

Muggs sprang to the telephone and called police headquarters. He got the chief on the wire.

"The Black Star has escaped!" he cried. "You'll get his gang down at the dance, but you'll not get him unless you hurry. He knocked me down and escaped. I know where you can catch him-if you're quick!"

Shotted queries and commands came to him from the frenzied chief.

"A house-in the south end of town!" Muggs gasped. "A deserted house-he has his headquarters there! He's gone there to get money, then he'll get out of town. You can catch him! ... What's that? Oh, yes-I didn't give you the address!"

Muggs swayed from the telephone, but in a moment had gathered his strength and was talking again. He gave the location of the house, and the chief said that he understood.

"And I'll be there-I'll start right now," Muggs added. "I'll be there to identify him."

Sudden decision had come to Muggs, and he stumbled away from the instrument without further words, not even stopping to hang up the receiver. He hurried across to the door and threw it open and went out. The stinging cold air refreshed him. He started along the driveway.

By the time he reached the boulevard, Muggs was himself again, except that the pain pounded in his head because of the blows the Black Star had given him. He hurried along the street, half running. On the first corner he waited for a car.

An automobile came along, bound for town, and Muggs hailed the driver.

He was a private chauffeur going to the big hall to fetch home from the ball some of the women of the family for which he worked. Muggs told him it was a matter of life and death, and the chauffeur allowed him to crawl up beside him and put on speed. Five minutes later, well down in town, Muggs got off and hailed the first taxicab he saw, offering double pay if good time was made, and the cab soon was rushing toward its destination.

The police had acted promptly on Muggs' information, and as the taxicab whirled around a corner half a dozen blocks from the goal, Muggs could hear in the distance the shrieking of a siren on a police automobile. He urged his chauffeur to greater speed. At a corner he stopped the cab, paid the driver, and the next moment was running down the dark side street toward the deserted house.

He slipped along the hedge and crept near the wall, making his way toward the door. It was closed, and Muggs did not try to open it, but went on to a window. He raised it as he had that first night when Verbeck had been with him. Muggs wanted to get inside and catch the Black Star at work. He wanted just one blow at the Black Star before the police arrived, for the blow that had been given him, and for the misery Verbeck had been caused. Then he'd gladly hand the Black Star over to the authorities.

He slipped through the window. As he did so the police automobile stopped on the nearest corner, and men piled out of it and ran forward to surround the house. Muggs gave them one glance, then left the window and stepped softly across the room. Light was coming through that crack in the door-the Black Star was there!

Muggs put his eye to the crack. He did not see the Black Star-he saw Roger Verbeck just blowing out the candle and starting to enter the dusty hall!

The meaning of the situation flashed over Muggs in an instant. The Black Star had not arrived yet. Verbeck had come here to get those letters before going to the big hall. And he-Muggs-had brought the police! They would capture Roger Verbeck-and there was nothing to prove that Roger Verbeck was not the Black Star!

CHAPTER XII-AT THE CHARITY BALL

Muggs jerked open the door, rushed through the furnished room, and entered the hall.

"Boss! Boss!" he hissed.

Verbeck was just recoiling from the outer door. He closed it as noiselessly as he could and hurried back.

"Boss!"

"That you, Muggs?"

"Yes. That devil worked a trick on me-he got away. He intended to come here and get money, then hurry out of town. I-I telephoned the police, boss, to come here, and I came myself to identify him. I didn't know that--"

"All right, Muggs. I understand. You did right."

"But I let him trick me-and the cops are here. If they catch you they'll think you're the Black Star."

Verbeck realized that even better than Muggs. If the capture was made at the big hall, and the prisoners questioned-as they would be, and mercilessly-Faustina Wendell and her brother, under the strain, might give evidence that would convict him.

"We've got to get away, boss!"

She had recognized the ring, Verbeck was thinking. Perhaps it was Howard Wendell who had watched as he went home that night. Yes-he'd have to escape.

"Oh, boss! I said I had a hunch!"

"Quick!" Verbeck whispered. "And be quiet! My roadster is at the curb a block away. We must get out and reach it. How many policemen?"

"A dozen at least, boss-and there may be another auto full of 'em coming."

"Hush! Some one is trying that door now. Into the kitchen with you!"

Muggs hurried through the kitchen door. Verbeck pushed him into a closet and bade him remain there until he returned. Then he went from the kitchen to the dining room, and there he lifted his pistol and sent three shots ringing into the ceiling.

Another instant and he was back in the kitchen, in the closet with Muggs.

"Perhaps they'll think the Black Star has committed suicide when they hear those shots and find there isn't a light," he whispered. "There is a window behind you, Muggs. Can you open it quietly and without attracting attention, while those police are wondering about the shots?"

Muggs went to work, making no noise. The window was raised a fraction of an inch at a time. Verbeck turned the key in the closet door, for things might come to a pa.s.s where seconds of delay would mean everything.

Finally the window was open. Muggs, putting out his head cautiously, looked around.

"Only one man on this side, boss," he reported. "The others have gone around to the door."

"They're in the house," Verbeck replied. "They're flashing their torches-I can see them in the hall through the keyhole."

"This side of the house is dark, boss, shaded by trees. And there is a drift of snow against it. We might get out without being heard or seen."

"Try it!" ordered Verbeck grimly.

Muggs went first, like a shadow, and soon was standing beneath the window in the deep darkness close to the wall. Verbeck followed, almost afraid to breathe, expecting every second to hear the challenge of a policeman and to be taken. But finally he, too, stood in the shadows against the side of the house.

"One man," Muggs whispered. "See him? We've got to hurry-those cops in the house will be through searching soon. You wait here, boss."

Muggs slipped away beneath the trees; Verbeck could scarcely see him.

Nearer and nearer he got to the unsuspecting policeman, who was watching the group in front of the door. Then Muggs sprang, and the policeman went down. It had been done without noise, with a single blow, but not effectually enough to render the officer unconscious for long.

Verbeck hurried across and joined Muggs; each took a deep breath, and then, just as the man on the ground raised a cry they darted out into the open, racing for the hedge.

Behind them was a chorus of cries, a fusillade of shots. They got to the other side of the hedge and ran wildly for the street. Behind them came the determined pursuit, a captain shouting orders. As they ran, Verbeck found himself wondering at the queerness of it-that he and Muggs had been forced to attack a guardian of the law in the interests of justice. Verbeck promised himself to make that policeman a handsome present when things were straightened out.