CHAPTER XXXI—IN THE BANK

The forces were about even, and these men of the Black Star’s organization whom he had taken into his inner circle, and, in a measure, into his confidence could be expected to put up a brave fight to save themselves and their master from capture or death. They knew how the public regarded the Black Star and his band; they knew what a jury would do to any one of them who stood in the prisoner’s dock, and that the judge would give the limit of imprisonment to any declared guilty.

So, as the lights went out, there came a scattered volley from the criminals, who had darted to different parts of the lodge hall. Muggs and most of the policemen, however, anticipating that volley, had thrown themselves flat on the floor, and they fired at the flashes and changed their positions quickly.

Again volleys were exchanged, and shrieks of pain told that some of the bullets had found human marks. The lieutenant was bellowing his commands, urging his men to guard doors and windows. In the darkness it was impossible to tell policeman from criminal, and both sides ceased firing.

There came a rush, and some of the Black Star’s men reached the door that opened into the hall and threw it open. They were met by a stream of light from the corridor, and saw more policemen standing there awaiting them, their weapons held ready; there was no escape that way.

The light made it possible for the police to shoot again, and two of the criminals went to the floor badly wounded. Others ran to the front windows, but there was no way of escape there, for it was three stories to the ground; nor could they reach the rear windows and fire escape, for the police were on guard there.

They were cornered in the lodge hall, and knew it. To each of them came the thought that prison was better than death—for no murder was charged against the Black Star’s band. And they had faith in their master and his organization—arrest did not mean prison necessarily.

“Throw down them guns, or take it!” the lieutenant commanded.

One of the Black Star’s lieutenants groaned, threw down his gun, and put up his hands. Then the others followed his example. They couldn’t understand how the police happened to be there—the Black Star had almost always managed to lead them astray before. They began wondering how it fared with the Black Star and the others on the floor below.

“Once too often this gang has tried to put over something!” the lieutenant said as his men snapped handcuffs on the crestfallen criminals. “We’ve got you this time, and you’ll do a long stretch each.”

“We was only holdin’ a meetin’,” one of the men replied.

“Yeh? I know all about that meetin’. Masks on your faces, and the Black Star and some more down in the bank, and Muggs bound and gagged in a chair—and you was only holdin’ a meetin’. Down to the wagon you go now, and straight to the hoosgow!”

Muggs was not listening to this tirade of the lieutenant’s. No sooner had he seen that the battle was over than he had raced across the hall to the wall where the Black Star had touched a hidden button and caused an aperture to show there. He pressed the wall frantically, but with no result. He covered every square inch of it near where he had seen the Black Star put his hand, but no opening appeared.

“Needn’t waste time there, Muggs, if you want to get to that Verbeck man of yours,” he heard the sergeant saying. “There’s some trick about it, of course, or it wouldn’t belong to the Black Star. We were outside the window on the fire escape, and saw him open that, and heard what he said. So we’ll just guard this end here, in case they should open it and try to come up. The lower floor is guarded, too, and they’ll be mixing things there in a minute; they’re waitin’ until Black Star gets his hands on some money and stuff. We want to get him with the goods, see? Men all around the block, too—a mouse couldn’t get away. We’ve got him this time!”

“How’d you know?” Muggs demanded.

“Don’t ask me! Some tip to the chief—and it sure was a correct tip. Two thirds of the night relief is scattered around this block right now. Here’s where we clean up. By George, I’m sorry you and Verbeck didn’t do it!”

“Didn’t we?” Muggs snarled.

“You wouldn’t have done much, I guess, bound and gagged the way you were—just been left here for another joke. Nope! The police get the credit for this—the police and whoever tipped this off. One of the Black Star’s men did it, I suppose—some one that was sore at him for something.”

“Guess again!” Muggs snarled. He didn’t fancy this belittling of Roger Verbeck by a lieutenant of police.

He turned and hurried across the hall and into the corridor, and sped down the stairs. He wanted to get around to the other side of the block and see what was transpiring in the National Trust Company’s building. He had forgotten the fantastic robe in which the Black Star had dressed him, and the laughter of one of the policemen in the hall brought it to mind. Muggs tore the robe off and growled his imprecations, and ran on as the policeman laughed again.

At the entrance to the building an officer held him up with leveled weapon, not being sure of his identity. Muggs lost time until another lieutenant appeared who knew him and ordered his release. He reached the street, sprinted for the corner, darted around it, and reached the front of the bank.

Everything seemed quiet there. Half a dozen policemen were standing on the sidewalk, and there seemed no commotion inside.

“Why don’t you get in? Why don’t you do something?” Muggs wanted to know. “Standin’ here like dummies that ain’t got——”

“Easy there, man!” one of them replied. “We’re doin’ something, all right. You just wait here with us until we get the signal.”

“Wait nuthin’!” Muggs exclaimed. “I’m goin’——”

“Wait, Muggs! We know the Black Star is in there and what he’s doing, and we know he’s got Verbeck in there. Take it easy—we’ve got it planned and we’ll get him with the goods.”

“You’ll let him get away with half of what’s in the vaults, that’s what you’ll do!” Muggs stormed. “I’ve seen that gent work before. You just let me get in there! I’ve got a score or two to settle with him!”

“You’ll have to wait——”

He was interrupted by the blast of a whistle. Instantly the officers were active. They sprang to the big double doors of the bank and crashed them open and tumbled inside. Others who came running took up their stations outside to watch every exit. Muggs was the second man through the front door.

It was dark inside, save where some light came through the windows from the street. The police flashed their torches and charged through the main room and into the office section. They tumbled over low partitions and scrambled over tables and desks and chairs, working their way back of the cages toward the vaults.

There had been officers stationed inside the building before the Black Star and his men arrived to begin operations, and they were in the front of the charge. It had been the chief of police who had given the signal on the whistle. Through a glass partition he had watched proceedings until what he judged was the right moment to act. He was eager to catch the master criminal with loot in his hands, to get such evidence that there would be no possibility of a mistrial or acquittal.

There was the sound of crashing glass as the partitions went down. There was a loud command for the Black Star and his men to throw up their hands and surrender.

There came a deafening crash, and a cloud of vapor rolled toward the police. Some inhaled it and fell; others, guessing what it meant, tried to hold breath until it passed, though it half blinded them and made their eyes smart and torrents of tears run from them.

Over the noise and confusion rang the mocking laugh of the Black Star. Through the gas cloud they could see him retreating, shielding himself with the body of his bound and gagged prisoner. Three men who retreated before him carried two heavy suit cases between them.

Shots rang out, but none fell. Those of the police who had not been rendered unconscious by the gas bomb charged again. They saw the Black Star back into a little side corridor, saw him hesitate a moment by the wall, put his hand against it, and saw an opening appear.

Through this opening his men darted. He stepped into it himself, still using his prisoner as a shield. Then the opening closed.

“We’ve got him—got him!” the chief cried. “Our men are watching the top of that between-the-walls business he built, and we are watching the bottom. He can’t get out. He’ll give up or he’ll stay there and starve. And if he doesn’t give up mighty quick we’ll go in after him.”

Muggs grasped the chief by the arm and opened his mouth to speak, but the chief was quicker.

“I know, Muggs,” he said. “The scoundrel’s got Verbeck in there. But we’ll get ’em—and I don’t think he’ll hurt Verbeck.”