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Rh ters are, of course. But I'm inclined to investigate room 256, at the New Nortonia Hotel, sheriff. What do you think about it?"

"I should say we will investigate it!" Kowen declared. "If the Black Star's lieutenant visits the people in that room, I want to know who those people are."

"Muggs said they were two sisters named Whaley. That means nothing, of course. They probably belong to the Black Star's gang. They may be important, or they may be merely mediums through whom members of the band receive messages and orders from one another. Now, we want to go about this thing carefully, sheriff. We ought to investigate, but we don't care to have them know of it until we learn all there is to be learned."

"I get the idea," the sheriff agreed. "Let's go!"

"We'll wait until after dark—which will not be more than a couple of hours," Verbeck said. "I'll have some dinner sent up here, and that will help kill the time. I visit that hotel now and then myself—have a bachelor friend who lives there. So the clerk and elevator boy will think nothing of it if we go right up without being announced. You leave the little details for me, Kowen. All I want is your official support—and your good right arm, of course, in case we get into a bit of trouble."

"You can have 'em both!" the sheriff said.

Verbeck ordered the dinner, and the sheriff indulged in a moment of luxury. Never before had he smoked such cigars or eaten such food. Being a young man of fortune was a good thing, Kowen decided. He didn't see why Roger Verbeck should go