HE rattling of pistol shots continued. From every direction police officers hurried toward the block and reported either to the chief or one of the captains. Lines were stretched two blocks away on every side, and behind the ropes gathered scores of automobiles that had carried hundreds of morbidly curious persons to the scene of battle.
Throughout the city had flashed the news that the Black Star and his band of criminals had been surrounded by the police in an abandoned factory building, and that a siege was in progress. Rumors told of the death of Roger Verbeck in a duel with the master criminal, others that the Black Star had escaped, and only some of his men were surrounded, still others that a dozen policemen had been wounded, and some slain.
Held in check by the ropes and the police guard, the throng, ever increasing, passed these rumors around and invented new ones on the spur of the moment. Police arriving from suburban districts had to fight their way through the jam to get to the battle line. The sheriff, hearing of the siege, journeyed to the spot with his deputies to offer his aid to the police. A frantic mayor, unable to get into communication with the head of his police department, debated whether to visit the scene of conflict or wire the governor of the State for the use of militia.
The first hysteria passed, as it always does. The throngs behind the ropes settled down to a steady wait, plying police officers for late information; the sheriff and his deputies mingled with the city's officers on the firing line; the mayor remembered that only a few criminals were in that building, and that it would be a reflection on his administration to ask the governor for help.
The searchlights arrived and were connected. Floods of light bathed the factory building, but they did not stop the volleys of bullets. Officers poured leaden hail through those windows, until it looked as if no man could approach one near enough to fire out, yet from the factory's interior came answering shots.
A perspiring chief crept close to Roger Verbeck again.
"Please come with me, Mr. Verbeck—you and your man," he said. "The mayor wants to speak to you."
Verbeck and Muggs, hugging the wall, and so keeping in the darkness, followed the chief to the gate and dashed through it. The mayor stood against the wall outside, half a dozen other officials with him.
"We ask your advice, Mr. Verbeck," he said. "You believe the Black Star is in that building?"
"I heard his voice urging his men," Verbeck replied.
"And how many men do you believe he has with him?"
"Frankly, I have no idea, sir."
"I am insisting that the chief have his men rush the building, Mr. Verbeck. He tells me it would be a foolish thing to do at this juncture. I am of the opinion that few, if any, policemen would be wounded making the dash to the doors."
"Kindly remember," Verbeck said, "that getting inside the doors is not all of it. Once inside, there'll be a hand-to-hand fight. I know the Black Star, Mr. Mayor. He is a tricky individual. He had traps in his other headquarters, and he may have in this."
"Are we to do this sort of thing forever, then?"
"I believe the chief is taking the right method," Verbeck replied. "He is flooding the place with light now. If they continue the fight, they must appear at the windows to fire, and sooner or later some of them will be wounded. A few wounded men, a few hours of this continual warfare, and the men inside that building will lose heart."
"I understand Detective Riley, an old and tried officer, is held prisoner in the building."
"The last I knew of him, he was," Verbeck said.
"Um! It seems peculiar to me that you and your man could not have overcome this Black Star when you were in the room with him and Riley had him covered. I understand he defeated the three of you."
"He did," Verbeck admitted. "Muggs and I were bound hand and foot. The Black Star took a chance and smashed the only lamp in the room. In the darkness he overcame Riley and Muggs with a vapor gun he uses. The rest was simple, since I was helpless."
"Say!" Muggs shoved his way forward and confronted the city's chief executive. "Have you got the nerve to stand here and bawl out my boss because we got the worst of it? Why, he's got more nerve than you and all your police together!
"Muggs!" Verbeck shouted.
"Well, it makes me mad! Why are we mixed up in this thing, anyway? Because the police can't handle the job—that's why! And now the mayor tries to bawl us
"My good man" the mayor began; he was an aristocratic mayor.