Black Star's Campaign. Johnston McCulley

      "Then I must hurry away," she said, rising. "And I shall do as you said—forget that I have been here. My brother——"

      "I'll watch out for him, Miss Blanchard—a little scare and nothing more! It is the proprietor of the place and his partners we are after, more than the victims."

      Sheriff Kowen went as far as the corridor with Miss Blanchard, and then hurried back to his private office and began pushing buttons. He called before him certain of his deputies, gave them the information he had acquired, and certain orders, and sent them away. Then he touched match to cigar, leaned back in his chair, blew a cloud of fragrant smoke toward the ceiling, and chuckled softly. Sheriff Kowen had not had a chance to raid a gambling house of any importance for more than a year; and raiding a gambling house was his pet sport. He promised himself that this raid should be sensational in the extreme. Gambling houses were not going to flourish while Kowen was holding office as sheriff.

      As for Miss Blanchard, she drove in a taxicab to an exclusive private hotel, ascended in the elevator to the eighth floor, and entered a suite there.

      A woman of forty was sitting before a window looking down at the busy street. She was talking to a man of about the same age, a man who appeared to be a prosperous merchant, or something of the sort, and who looked up quickly when Miss Blanchard entered.

      "Well, Mamie, how about it?" he growled.

      "It was easy!" Miss Mamie Blanchard replied. "He fell for it so hard that I could almost see him bounce. He swallowed the bait, hook, sinker and line. We've played the game just right—that man would rather raid a gambling joint than eat!"

      "Think he'll get busy right away?" the man asked.

      "Busy? The instant he left me he ran back to his desk. I think that we can look for action to-night."

      "Well, we'll give him a chance. He'll want to make sure of the evidence first, of course, and we'll see that he gathers plenty of that without too much trouble. All the other details have been arranged. I'll issue orders this afternoon, and have everything in readiness. We can't go wrong on this."

      "And afterward?" the girl asked.

      "You'll get your reward, all right. If this man's town isn't crazy within forty-eight hours, it'll be something peculiar. You know your part, I suppose?"

      "Certainly."

      "Get ready, then. I'll go, now, and get word to all the boys. I'm glad that the long wait is over, that we are ready to strike!"

CHAPTER II

       Table of Contents

A SHOCK FOR THE CITY

       Table of Contents

      The deputies sent forth by Sheriff Kowen did their work well, and without experiencing much difficulty. Their investigations were concluded before nightfall, and the sheriff rubbed his hands together in glee when he received their reports.

      At eleven o'clock that night, he sat at his desk and answered telephone calls. At a certain place near the gambling house his men had gathered. Kowen knew from experience that it did not do to have them meet at his office or the county jail. There always was somebody watching, and any unusual activity would cause a warning to be flashed to every resort that had reason to expect a raid.

      "It's all right, boss," one of his deputies telephoned. "We've been on the watch since eight o'clock. There are about thirty men in the place now, and more coming all the time. They're pretty bold about it—feel safe, I reckon."

      "That's because they've been getting away with it for a few months," the sheriff replied. "We'll make 'em sick before morning."

      He finished smoking his cigar; then left the office and walked down the street to the corner, as he always did at that hour of the night. That was to make things appear natural, if anybody happened to be watching. He waited for a surface car, got aboard, and started home. At a certain corner, he alighted in order to transfer to another line.

      But Sheriff Kowen did not use his transfer to-night. He made sure that nobody was watching him, and then darted down a side street. He pulled his hat over his eyes, bent his shoulders forward, and walked rapidly down the broad avenue toward the exclusive residential section of the city.

      He had a mile to walk. He covered three fourths of it at a good pace, and then slowed down and became more alert. He passed another man on a corner.

      "All right, boss," the man whispered.

      "All right!" Sheriff Kowen answered.

      Kowen went on up the street. He stopped in a dark spot beneath an overhanging tree, and looked at a house in the middle of the block. He knew the property; it belonged to an old estate, and was handled by a well-known real estate firm. For years it had been without a tenant. The investigation made by the deputies during the afternoon had resulted in the information that it had been repaired and leased some three months before to strangers in the city, but people who had exhibited good references.

      It was some distance away from the other residences, and the lot was bordered by a high hedge, except in front. It was an ideal location for a fashionable gambling resort.

      As Kowen watched, he saw a young man saunter down the street, hesitate a moment, then enter the gate and hurry toward the house.

      "Another victim!" Kowen told himself.

      Now one of his deputies approached him, keeping in the shadows as much as possible.

      "Well?" Kowen snapped.

      "Almost forty men in there, boss," the deputy reported.

      "All our crowd ready?"

      "Yes."

      "What time is it?"

      "Quarter after twelve. I looked at my watch as I walked under the light at the corner."

      "Let's get in action then," Kowen said. "I don't want any slips, now. I want to gather in the whole lot. Got the autos ready?"

      "They're ready, boss, waiting down the street a couple of blocks."

      "Signal them up, and we'll begin."

      The deputy hurried away. Sheriff Kowen crossed the street, turned in through the gate, and blew a whistle.

      On every side, deputies rushed toward the house, surrounding it immediately. Kowen ran up the steps and knocked at the door. An aperture was opened, a face peered out, there was an exclamation, and the aperture was closed again.

      "Into it!" Kowen cried.

      Deputies ran forward with axes and attacked the heavy door. The door at the rear was attacked in the same manner. Some of the men guarded the entrance to the basement, others watched the windows closely.

      The front door crashed down, and the officers poured into the house. From the second floor came a chorus of cries and shrieks. The lights had been extinguished, and electric torches flashed.

      "Watch those stairs!" Kowen cried. "Some of you clean out the basement—I want the entire crowd! I'll go above!"

      They made their way to the head of the stairs, smashed through another door, flashed their torches, found the light switch and turned it. The big room was bathed in light.

      Sheriff Kowen smiled grimly as he surveyed the scene. He saw faro and roulette layouts, poker tables, almost every gambling device known. Some two score of men in evening dress were crouching against the walls. A glance was enough to tell the sheriff the customers and the dealers. He slapped his hands together.

      "Round 'em up!" he ordered.

      His deputies sprang