CHAPTER XXXII—A NARROW ESCAPE

When the Black Star had entered the aperture in the lodge hall, and the panel closed behind him, he flashed his electric torch around the interior of a space about five feet long and three wide.

“Notice our ingenuity, Mr. Verbeck,” he said. “Here we have constructed, as I remarked, a sort of dumb-waiter between the walls of the two buildings. It took considerable time, and great care was necessary, but the job will be profitable for all that. Every bit of material had to be smuggled into the lodge hall, but we did it without the stupid police suspecting anything was wrong.

“I am sorry that I cannot remove your mask and gag and discuss this bit of work with you, but you might shriek and call down our foes. Kindly give me your close attention now. You see this small cable running through the corner? I pull on it like this—similar to the old-fashioned elevators, you see. And down we go!”

The little box arrangement crept downward slowly as the Black Star chuckled his satisfaction. There was not the slightest noise; the holes even had been greased so the cable would slip through silently. Inch by inch the box descended. It was insufferably hot, and the air was bad. None spoke a word until the descent of the box stopped, and then the Black Star turned to his prisoner again.

“We are at the bottom,” he said. “You see this small button here? It is connected with an electric light signal that we installed, and when I press it a certain number of times it conveys a meaning to one of my men in the bank. The little bulb light, I assure you, is cunningly hidden. You see, I am prepared for everything, Mr. Verbeck. Perhaps that is why I am so successful.”

He reached out and pressed the button. There was a wait of half a minute, and then a green bulb glowed in the top of the box.

“Ah, the coast is clear!” the Black Star said. “We are about to take a fortune in money and securities from the strongest bank in the city, Mr. Verbeck, from a bank that boasts its vaults cannot be opened by burglars.”

The Black Star chuckled again, and then pressed against the wall. An opening showed before them, and one of the Black Star’s men stood just outside, masked.

“All ready, sir,” he reported. “The suit cases are on a table before the vault’s door and you have only to open that door and step inside.”

“The watchmen are on duty?”

“In front on the two upper floors, sir, and in the rear on this floor at this time. He has to punch his report box there in ten minutes.”

“Guard the corridor, then. I want only the three men with me in the vault room. Should there be trouble, use the back exit, and leave this for me and those working with me.”

He stepped out as he ceased speaking, and the men behind him carried the prisoner between them as they had on the floor above. They were in a narrow side corridor that ran from the offices to an alley entrance—an entrance used by directors when they attended a meeting, and by bank officials when they desired to get out of the building without seeing some undesirable.

Along this narrow corridor they walked slowly, bending low when they came to a place where light came through the windows from the street. They opened a door and passed through an office, opened another door, and were in the vault room.

“Put Mr. Verbeck in that chair at the end of the table and facing the door of the vault,” the Black Star whispered to his men. “I want him to have the privilege of watching operations. Then, when we are done, we’ll pin a nice little note to his breast, put him to sleep, go away, and telephone the stupid police to come here and find him. And then the public can have a laugh.”

His men obeyed him, and the Black Star turned to the door of the vault. He chuckled again as he reached a hand forward, grasped the handle, and swung the heavy door open. He looked back at his prisoner and waved a hand in derision, and then stepped into the vault.

The others could see his torch flash, and presently he came out.

“A very good haul, I imagine,” he announced, and began piling packages of bank notes into one of the suit cases. “I am gathering the big bills—haven’t time to bother with such things as fives and tens at first. Perhaps, if we have time, I’ll take a few packages for the men. Now for some more.”

Six trips he made into the vault, and each time he came out with his arms filled with bundles of bank notes, which he put into the suit case. On the seventh trip he carried two bags of gold coins and put one in the first suit case and locked it, and then threw the second sack in a corner of the second suit case.

Securities were the next things he went after. He filled the second suit case with bonds, even stopping to flash his torch over them and discard those of small value or such as would not be easily negotiable.

“You see how simple it is, Mr. Verbeck, when a man with brains plans things?” he asked. “Quite a bit of wealth here, what? More than many ordinary men would earn during their lifetimes. And I take it as an evening’s diversion, after some weeks of preparation, of course, and make it, instead of a lifetime’s work, only one bit of work out of many good ones. I am going to make one more trip. I have heard of a certain diamond necklace that is kept in this vault, and I want it, if it can be found quickly. If I do not get it to-night I’ll have to rob this place again, and I have made it a rule heretofore never to strike twice in the same place.”

Even his own men marveled at the man’s composure. Here he was robbing the strongest financial institution in the city, entering a vault considered impregnable, and without showing the slightest nervousness. Apparently he was in no great hurry to get away. He might have been a man in his own home, showing his friends treasures taken from a private safe.

Then came the sound of a distant shot, the sound of breaking glass, a man’s shriek. The Black Star hurried from the vault and stood listening, and the faint light from the street showed that there was some concern in his countenance. One of the watchmen came running in from the corridor.

“The red signal!” he exclaimed. “The signal from the lodge hall!”

“Quietly, quietly, my man,” the master criminal said. “Nothing ever is gained by getting into a sweat when quick thinking is necessary. Give the signal and go out the rear way—all of you.”

“But you, sir?”

“I’ll take care of myself—go! Undoubtedly those fools upstairs are frightened at nothing.”

But a fusillade of shots from the lodge hall above gave the lie to his words.

“Something appears to be wrong,” he said. “I suppose we may as well get out of here and into our between-the-walls box. Pick up the suit cases, men. I am sure I don’t imagine what has happened. There is no way in which the police could have been informed. If you were not my prisoner now, Mr. Verbeck—but you are, and so is Muggs. I was going to bring Muggs down here and leave him with you, but he’ll have to miss this share of the fun, I think. One moment, Mr. Verbeck, until I decorate your breast with a sarcastic note.”

He reached in his pocket and brought forth the note he had prepared, and stepped toward the prisoner, reaching to his lapel for a pin.

“We’d better hurry,” one of his men suggested.

“Are you afraid, when I am here beside you?” the Black Star demanded. “Such a man has no place in an organization like mine.”

“I’m afraid for you, sir—that’s all.”

“Your solicitude for my welfare overwhelms me. Start on, my man, and I’ll be with you almost instantly.”

The three men started toward the door with the suit cases. The Black Star bent forward to pin the note on the breast of the man before him. And then the chief’s whistle came.

With the crashing in of the front door of the bank, the Black Star was a changed man. He grasped his prisoner by the shoulders, jerked him from the chair, and dragged him across the room to the office door. Through the offices police poured in upon him. His hand dived into his pocket, and came forth, holding a round object about the size of a tennis ball. He hurled it on the floor in front of the advancing foes.

There was a roar as the bomb struck, a hiss as the cloud of vapor spread. The Black Star laughed mockingly, and backed toward the wall, shielding himself behind his helpless prisoner’s body. He touched the wall, and the opening appeared. He went in, still carrying his prisoner, and in the little box he laughed again, aloud, and tugged at the cable.

“Quite a bit of excitement, Mr. Verbeck,” he observed. “But here we are, safe and sound, and with the suit cases filled with loot. Now I wonder what brought those police down upon us. I suppose I’ll have to go through my organization and ask a few questions. And if there is such a thing as a traitor—ha!”

He tugged at the cable again, and the box ascended.

“Listen to the poor fools pounding on the wall!” he exclaimed. “They will have difficulty, I imagine, finding how that opening is caused. You notice, my dear Mr. Verbeck, that when I opened it either above or below, I press the wall with my hand. That is merely a trick, should some one be observing too closely. As I do that, I touch the real spring with the toe of my shoe. Men can press with their hands all day and not find it.”