Black Star's Subterfuge/Chapter 2

UGGS would not have recognized a pterodactyl had he met one face to face in the street. Also, he was woefully deficient in theories regarding the fourth dimension. He had, however, taken a post-graduate course in the University of Hard Knocks, where he had specialized in human nature, and hence he knew many things his better-educated brethren did not.

Muggs knew, for instance, that there are smiles and smiles, that they may be read as easily as print, and that, if read correctly, they tell a man's intentions—or a woman's—as openly as spoken words.

So now, when the stranger smiled at him again, Muggs analyzed the smile quickly and efficiently, and noted the one important thing—that the stranger smiled with his lips, but not with his eyes. The eyes were small and gray, and appeared to glitter venomously. Either the glitter of those eyes or the smile on the lips expressed a falsehood, and Muggs decided it was the smile that lied.

Muggs was aware, also, that the stranger had been regarding him intently for ten minutes at least. He had felt the other's eyes upon him. There had been a time in Muggs' career when he had been sensitive enough to feel immdiately [sic] the near presence of a hostile force, an accomplishment that often had saved him from prison. Though now he walked the straight and narrow path as valet, chauffeur, and comrade in arms to Roger Verbeck, he retained a great deal of his old sensitiveness.

Verbeck had told him to eat before rejoining him, and so Muggs had entered this little restaurant on a side street and ordered a modest meal. He had no more than seated himself when he became aware that he was under surveillance.

Being a man of broad experience, and at present engaged with Verbeck and Detective Riley in matching wits with a clever crook and his followers, Muggs used caution. He did not turn his head quickly to ascertain the identity of the person whose eyes he felt. He sipped his coffee and conveyed a generous bite of pie to his mouth, sat back and wiped his lips, and, without seeming to look up, he searched with his eyes a panel mirror directly before him, in which was reflected the interior of the little restaurant.

It was almost the same minute that Roger Verbeck, in the more fashionable restaurant, looked in a mirror and observed the approach of his waiter with the finger bowl.

Muggs spotted his man! He of the glittering eyes sat at a table near the door and pretended to be eating berries and cake. He was regarding the back of Muggs' head intently—and smiling the lying smile.

"There's one hombre I've never seen before, to the best of my knowledge and belief," Muggs told himself, "yet he seems to be mighty interested in me. A man would think he was layin' to hand me a jolt, the way he acts. It's up to me to hand out the jolt first!"

Muggs picked up his check and reached for his hat. As he turned to walk the length of the restaurant, he saw that the other man had risen also, and was hurrying toward the cashier's cage. Realizing that the stranger was eager to get outside, either to accost or trail him, Muggs did some smiling of his own now; and a wise man could have read many things in that smile, the most important being to hurry from the vicinity of Mr. Muggs as speedily as possible. Muggs paid his check and fumbled over the toothpicks, giving the other man ample time to establish himself outside to his satisfaction. Then he threw back his shoulders, shot out his lower jaw belligerently, and headed for the door.

The stranger with the glittering eyes was standing at the curb, a short distance away, just at the rear of a taxi-cab, and looking up and down the street as if awaiting an automobile. Muggs walked straight toward him.

"Pardon me, but are you an artist?" Muggs demanded, in a peculiar tone.

"I am not. Why do you ask, sir?"

They faced each other squarely. The stranger was well aware now that Muggs knew of the recent espionage, and was about to demand an explanation; and Muggs knew he was aware of it.

"You ain't lookin' for a model of a perfect male human head?" Muggs asked now.

"I am not, sir."

"I thought maybe you was, stranger. The way you bored them eyes of yours into my head back there in the restaurant, I not only suspicioned you was lookin' for a model, but that you'd found your man."

"I—I beg your pardon!" The other simulated astonishment.

"Yeh? Do I infer from that, stranger, that you ain't found your man? If for any particular reason you was lookin' for me, I'm here with my pedigree. My name's Muggs. I've got one peculiarity, and that is, that when I find a stranger regardin' me too close I always want to plant a fist 'tween his eyes. Ain't that funny?"

"Really, I"

"And just now," Muggs went on, "I'm engaged in a simple endeavor on the side, as my boss would say, that makes me nervous when a man gets pesty around me. I'm that nervous right now I could choke a man!"

"I—er—I fail to see" the other stammered; and he started to walk slowly along the curb, Muggs following.

"It ain't polite to stare at the back of a man's head and grin sickly like at the same time," Muggs continued. "There wasn't anybody near me in there, and so you was lookin' at me. I want to know why! Now suppose you give me your pedigree, so we'll know just where we stand!"

They were opposite the taxicab now, and the chauffeur sprang from his seat and opened the door as if in anticipation of a fare. It appeared to Muggs that the other man would be only too glad to jump into that taxi and hurry away without explaining; and Muggs did not wish that. While the war against the Black Star and his band was in progress, explanations of any peculiar circumstance were necessary.

So now Muggs stepped before the open door of the cab himself, blocking the way, and faced the man who had smiled.

"I'm waitin' for an answer!" Muggs declared.

The stranger bent forward in the gathering dusk and raised a forefinger, as if to begin a protest of this conduct on Muggs' part. The chauffeur stood with his hand on the door, waiting.

"It seems to me" the stranger began.

And in that second, Muggs realized that he had walked right into a trap. The chauffeur grasped him by the throat and kicked his feet from beneath him. The stranger he faced lunged forward suddenly and threw Muggs off his balance. Muggs was hurled to the interior of the cab neatly; and only one person on the street had witnessed the occurrence.

Like a flash, Muggs had his feet under him again and was crouched against the seat, ready to spring through the door and throttle the first of his foes he met. It flashed through his mind that he should blame himself much for being caught off guard. And then, before he scarcely realized what was happening, before he could make a move, the man who had watched him in the restaurant had entered the cab and closed the door, and the vehicle was moving away from the curb.

"Easy! Easy, my man!" the stranger warned.

The cab passed beneath the arc light at the corner just then, and Muggs saw steel glitter in the other's hand. It was not the nature of Muggs, however, to allow himself to be captured in this manner without making some effort to disconcert his captors. Moreover, he guessed this man and the chauffeur might belong to the Black Star's band. This might be part of a prearranged plan to injure Roger Verbeck in some way. And all that was necessary to arouse Muggs' ire and fighting blood was to threaten disaster to Verbeck, the man he adored, who had saved him from the waters of the Seine five years before and made him a man.

It took Muggs less than half a second to get his breath and decide that the proper thing to do would be to spring upon the other man and make an effort to overcome him, taking the chance of receiving a bullet in his vitals.

Muggs sprang like a lion, and silently!

In midair he met something new. The other had raised what Muggs had supposed was an automatic pistol fitted with a silencer. Now he pulled the trigger!

No hot lead seared Muggs, no bullet tore its way through his body. But, from the muzzle of the weapon flashed a cloud of pungent vapor, and Muggs, gasping his surprise, drew the vapor deep into his lungs.

The stranger caught Muggs in his arms and lowered him gently to the floor of the taxi. It seemed to Muggs that he realized fully what was going on, but was unable to do anything about it. He noticed the other man take a handkerchief from his pocket and hold it to his nostrils, and above the handkerchief the eyes glittered venomously as before. Muggs saw all this as they passed under another arc light.

And then dreamless sleep descended upon him!