UGGS regained his cunning the instant he regained consciousness. He realized he was stretched on a couch, and that his hands and feet were bound. He made no effort to struggle, and he did not even open his eyes.
For fully a minute he lay motionless, almost without breathing, his ears strained to catch every sound. Once, coming from a distance, he heard the clanging bell of a trolley car. The rattling of vehicles on a busy paved street, the moaning of the wind that had been blowing a gale at the time of his abduction, the low-pitched voices of men in the room, discussing his case—the things he expected to hear—were not discernible.
Still he did not open his eyes, hoping that, if anybody was in the room, they would speak sooner or later and give him some clew to his predicament. He was breathing deeply and regularly now, his brain had cleared, and he knew the effect of the vapor he had inhaled had worn away. And
"Why play 'possum, Mr. Muggs? You have been conscious, and your brain has been active, for the better part of five minutes, and I know it!"
The voice was low, deep, striking—the words coming in a peculiar staccato. Muggs remembered that the Black Star possessed a voice like that. He opened his eyes.
"That is better. Why pretend?"
Opening his eyes was all Muggs did, save gasp, for he did not have to move his body to observe the scene. It was spread before him.
He was on a couch in a corner of a large room. The apartment was lavishingly furnished; mahogany table and chairs, tapestries, art rugs were there to delight the eye.
At one end of the table stood a tall figure enveloped in a flowing black robe with a hood that covered the head. The face was hidden by a black mask through which two eyes glittered. On the front of the hood, in flaming jet, was a big star.
"The Black Star!" Muggs gasped, scarcely knowing why he spoke at all, since it seemed so useless.
"You have guessed correctly, Muggs," the Black Star said, chuckling. "Once again you see the Black Star in his headquarters, his workshop. Before, you visited me like a thief in the night, accompanied by Roger Verbeck, the man you style your boss. This time, I have had you brought here."
The Black Star folded his arms and looked at the man on the couch, as if speculating what to do with him. Muggs remained silent, waiting, his brain busy with a thousand thoughts. He knew now that it was a member of the Black Star's band who had watched him in the restaurant, and that the chauffeur had been another. And why had he been abducted and carried to the master criminal's headquarters? Did the Black Star think he could hold Muggs as hostage and force Roger Verbeck to cease his campaign to put the master rogue behind the bars?
"Really, Mr. Muggs, I had hoped for something better from you," the Black Star was saying. "When I gave orders for you to be abducted and carried here I laughed to myself—I believed the men who received those orders would have their hands full. It appears, however, that the task was as easy as picking up a child."
"Yeh?" Muggs snarled.
"I knew, you see, that you would be in the business district to-day, since Roger Verbeck was purchasing supplies—stocking up the old Verbeck house well, to be comfortable with you and Detective Riley while conducting his campaign to capture
"And you can bet he'll gel you yet!" Muggs loyally exclaimed.
"Do you really think so, Muggs? However, I have you now!"
"Well, what's it to be—goin' to shoot me, or what?"
"My dear Muggs! I abhor violence! I am not a thug. Wit, strategy, the game of brains—those are the things! My purpose in bringing you here was not ulterior."
"Talk United States and get it off your chest, quick!" Muggs said.
"Such language! I cannot, for the life of me, understand why a refined gentleman like Roger Verbeck endures your companionship. By having you carried here, I believed I was doing Mr. Verbeck a favor."
"Yeh?"
"He matched his wit against mine, and almost destroyed my organization once. I escaped the silly police, however, and formed my organization anew, also obtained a new headquarters. Has it not been the desire of yourself, Mr. Verbeck and Detective Riley—the trio sworn to capture me—to discover the whereabouts of this new headquarters? Well—here it is, Muggs."
"I can see the headquarters, all right!"
"And please observe the heavy curtain on that side of the room. It covers an open doorway, Muggs. I am going to lift that curtain now and give you a shock. Yes, Muggs, I feel sure it will be quite a shock."