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diff --git a/37490-h/37490-h.htm b/37490-h/37490-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..5806707 --- /dev/null +++ b/37490-h/37490-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,13955 @@ +<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" + "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd"> +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml"> +<head> +<meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html; charset=utf-8" /> +<title>The Project Gutenberg eBook of The Gray Phantom's Return, by Herman Landon</title> + <style type="text/css"> + body {margin-left:10%; margin-right:10%;} + p {margin-top:1ex; margin-bottom:0; text-align:justify;} + .pagenum {display:inline; font-size:x-small; text-align:right; text-indent:0; + position:absolute; right:2%; padding:1px 3px; font-style:normal; + font-variant:normal; font-weight:normal; text-decoration:none; + background-color:inherit; border:1px solid #eee;} + .pncolor {color:silver;} + h1 {text-align:center; font-weight:normal; + font-size:1.4em; margin-top:4em; margin-bottom:2em;} + h1.pg {text-align:center; font-weight:bold; + font-size:190%; margin-top:0em; margin-bottom:0em;} + h2 {text-align:left; font-weight:normal; + font-size:1.2em; margin-top:4em; margin-bottom:2em;} + h3 {text-align:center; font-weight:bold; + font-size:0.9em; margin-top:1.5em; margin-bottom:1em;} + h3.pg {text-align:center; font-weight:bold; + font-size:110%; margin-top:1.5em; margin-bottom:1em;} + hr.pb {margin:30px 0; width:100%; border:none; border-top:thin dashed silver; clear:both;} + .sc {font-variant: small-caps;} + .center {margin-left:auto; margin-right:auto; text-align:center;} + .larger {font-size:larger;} + .smaller {font-size:smaller;} + .sc {font-variant:small-caps} + .caption {font-size: 80%;} + div.center p {margin: 0 auto; text-align:center;} + div.center>:first-child {margin: .5em auto 0 auto;text-align:center;} + .figcenter {margin: auto; text-align: center;} + + hr.full { width: 100%; + margin-top: 3em; + margin-bottom: 0em; + margin-left: auto; + margin-right: auto; + height: 4px; + border-width: 4px 0 0 0; /* remove all borders except the top one */ + border-style: solid; + border-color: #000000; + clear: both; } + pre {font-size: 85%;} + </style> +</head> +<body> +<h1 class="pg">The Project Gutenberg eBook, The Gray Phantom's Return, by Herman Landon</h1> +<pre> +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at <a href = "http://www.gutenberg.org">www.gutenberg.org</a></pre> +<p>Title: The Gray Phantom's Return</p> +<p>Author: Herman Landon</p> +<p>Release Date: September 20, 2011 [eBook #37490]</p> +<p>Language: English</p> +<p>Character set encoding: UTF-8</p> +<p>***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE GRAY PHANTOM'S RETURN***</p> +<p> </p> +<h3 class="pg">E-text prepared by Roger Frank, Juliet Sutherland,<br /> + and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team<br /> + (http://www.pgdp.net)</h3> +<p> </p> +<hr class="full" /> +<p> </p> +<p> </p> +<p> </p> +<p> </p> + +<div class='center'> +<p><span style='font-size:1.4em;font-weight:bold;'>THE GRAY</span></p> +<p><span style='font-size:1.4em;font-weight:bold;'>PHANTOM’S RETURN</span></p> +<p> </p> +<p>By HERMAN LANDON</p> +<p> </p> +<p><span class='sc'>Author of</span></p> +<p>“The Gray Phantom”</p> +</div> +<div class='figcenter' style='padding-top: 1em; padding-bottom: 1em'> +<a name='i001' id='i001'></a> +<img src='images/illus-emb.png' alt='' title=''/><br /> +</div> +<div class='center'> +<p>A. L. BURT COMPANY</p> +<p>Publishers New York</p> +<p> </p> +<p><span style='font-size:smaller;'>Published by arrangement with W. J. Watt & Company</span></p> +<p><span style='font-size:smaller;'>Printed in U. S. A.</span></p> +</div> +<p> + <br /> + <br /> + <br /> +</p> +<div class='center'> +<p><span class='sc'>Copyright, 1922, by</span></p> +<p>W. J. WATT & COMPANY</p> +<p> </p> +<p><em>Printed in the United States of America</em></p> +</div> +<p> + <br /> + <br /> + <br /> +</p> +<div class='center'> +<p>To Pal</p> +</div> +<p> + <br /> + <br /> + <br /> +</p> +<h1><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_1'></a>1</span>THE GRAY PHANTOM’S RETURN</h1> +<h2>CHAPTER I—FROM DYING LIPS</h2> +<p> +Patrolman Joshua Pinto, walking his +beat at two o’clock in the morning, hummed a +joyless tune as he turned off the Bowery and +swung into East Houston Street. It was a wet night, +with a raw wind sweeping around the street corners, +and Pinto walked along with an air of dogged persistence, +as if trying to make the best of a disagreeable +duty. His heavy and somewhat florid features +were expressionless. For all that his face indicated, +he might have been thinking that it was a fine night +for a murder, or wishing that he was in plain clothes +instead of uniform, or picturing himself in his cozy +home playing with his baby, whose lusty “da-da’s” +and “goo-goo’s” he was pleased to interpret as wonderful +linguistic achievements. +</p> +<p> +Perhaps it was nothing but instinct that caused +him to slow down his pace as he passed a squatty +and rather dilapidated building in the middle of the +block. So far as appearances went, it did not differ +greatly from its drab and unprepossessing neighbors, +yet Pinto cast a sharp glance at the ground-floor +window, which bore a lettered sign proclaiming that +the premises were occupied by Sylvanus Gage, dealer +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_2'></a>2</span> +in pipes, tobacco, and cigars. As if the building had +cast a spell of gloom upon him, the patrolman ceased +his humming, and his lips were set in a tight line as +he proceeded down the block. +</p> +<p> +Being an ambitious and hard-working officer, Pinto +made it a practice to cultivate the acquaintance of as +many as possible of the people living along his beat. +He knew Sylvanus Gage, a thin, stoop-shouldered +man with a flowing beard, a black cap adorning his +bald skull, and mild blue eyes that had a habit of +gazing lugubriously at the world through thick lenses +rimmed with tarnished gold. Despite his patriarchal +appearance, he was reputed to be using his +tobacco business as a cloak for a flourishing traffic +in stolen goods. So deftly did the old man manage +his illicit enterprises that the police, though morally +certain of their facts, had never been able to produce +any evidence against him. Little was known of +his housekeeper, a sour and sharp-tongued slattern +of uncertain age, but there were those who suspected +that she was not entirely innocent of complicity in +her employer’s clandestine activities. +</p> +<p> +It may have been of this Pinto was thinking as he +plodded along with the measured gait of the seasoned +patrolman. The soggy sidewalks glistened in +the light from the street-corner lamps, and here and +there along the pavement water was forming in little +pools. Most of the windows were dark and, save +for an occasional shifty-eyed and furtively slinking +pedestrian, the streets were deserted. Pinto halted +for a moment to look at his watch, then quickened his +steps, “pulled” the buff-colored box on the corner, +and trudged on again. +</p> +<p> +Once more he was humming a tune. Each of the +scattered prowlers he met was subjected to a critical +scrutiny out of the corner of his eye. Now and then +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_3'></a>3</span> +he dodged into a dark doorway and tried a lock. +From time to time he glanced through the window +of a store or shop. It was all a matter of habit with +Joshua Pinto. For seven years he had pursued the +same dull routine, varied only by an occasional transfer +to another part of the city, or by a change from +night to day duty, or vice versa. He had broken up +a few nocturnal street brawls, now and then he had +foiled the designs of a second-story artisan, and on +two or three occasions he had caught a safe-blower +red-handed, but nothing very exciting had ever happened +to him. +</p> +<p> +On this particular night, however, an acute observer +might have noticed an air of disquietude about +Officer Pinto. There was the merest hint of uneasiness +in the way he twirled his nightstick as he walked +along, in the intensified alertness with which he inspected +the occasional passers-by, in the quick and +somewhat nervous glances he cast up and down the +shabby streets. Likely as not the rain and the wind, +together with the gloom pervading the district, were +responsible for his state of mind, and possibly his +physical discomfort was aggravated by a premonition—though +Pinto himself would have called it a +“hunch”—that a tragic event was soon to enliven the +tedium of his existence. +</p> +<p> +Again his footsteps dragged as once more he +strolled past the establishment of Sylvanus Gage. +The building was dark and still, like most of the +others in the block, yet something prompted Pinto +to cast a suspicious glance at the door and windows, +as if he sensed an omen in the shadows clinging to +the wall. +</p> +<p> +He stopped abruptly as a door slammed and a +shrill feminine voice called his name. A woman, +scantily dressed and with loosened hair fluttering in +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_4'></a>4</span> +the wind, was hurrying toward him with excited +gestures. +</p> +<p> +“Officer!” She clutched his sleeve and pointed +toward the tobacco shop. “There—hurry!” +</p> +<p> +The patrolman’s eyes followed her pointing finger. +A second-story window opened above their heads +and a frowsy person, disturbed by the woman’s harsh +voice, looked down into the street. Pinto regarded +the speaker with apparent unconcern, recognizing +the housekeeper of Sylvanus Gage. Another +window opened across the street, and a second face +looked down on them. +</p> +<p> +Officer Pinto, schooled by previous experiences +with overexcited females, casually inquired what +might be the matter. +</p> +<p> +“Matter!” retorted the woman. “Murder—that’s +what’s the matter. Why don’t you get a move +on?” +</p> +<p> +Pinto permitted himself to be led along. The +driver of a milk wagon halted his nag to watch the +commotion. The woman, jabbering and shivering, +opened the door of the tobacco store, pushed the +officer inside and switched on the light above the +counter. +</p> +<p> +“There!” She pointed at a door in the rear of +the dingy shop. “He—Mr. Gage—sleeps back +there.” +</p> +<p> +“Well, what of it?” An impatient look cloaked +Pinto’s real feelings. “He’s got to sleep some place, +ain’t he?” +</p> +<p> +The woman’s eyes blazed. “You stand there +handing out sass while he—he may be dying back +there.” Trying to steady herself, she gathered up +the folds of the tattered robe she wore. “My room’s +right above his,” she explained. “A few moments +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_5'></a>5</span> +ago I jumped out of bed, thinking I’d heard a +sound.” +</p> +<p> +“A sound, eh? This town is chockfull of them +things.” Pinto leveled an uneasy glance at the door +in the rear. “What kind of sound was it you thought +you heard?” +</p> +<p> +“What kind of sound! You ain’t paid for asking +fool questions, Officer Pinto. All day long I felt in +my bones that something awful was going to happen, +and when that noise woke me up I was scared +stiff. I grabbed a few clothes and ran down here, +but the door to Mr. Gage’s room was bolted on the +inside. He always shoots the bolt before he goes +to bed. I knocked, but not a sound came from the +inside. Then I shouted loud enough to raise the +dead, but——” +</p> +<p> +“Your boss is hard of hearing, ain’t he?” +</p> +<p> +“A little. Say, why don’t you do something?” +</p> +<p> +Pinto walked to the outer door, shooed away a +knot of curious spectators, then sauntered back to +where the woman stood. There was a supercilious +grin on his lips, but deep in his eyes lurked an uneasy +gleam. +</p> +<p> +“So you’ve been feeling in your bones that something +awful was going to happen,” he gibingly observed. +“Then you hear a noise, and right away +you yell murder. You’ve got <em>some</em> imagination, you +have. I ain’t going to break in on a sleeping man +just because your bones feel funny. Mine do, too, +once in a while, but I don’t make any fuss about it. +No, sir-ee! You might as well trot back to bed.” +</p> +<p> +The woman pulled at the folds of her robe. “I +haven’t told you all yet.” She spoke fast and low, +gazing fixedly at the door in the rear. “Yesterday +afternoon Mr. Gage got a letter from—from a +party he’s got good reason to be scared of. He +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_6'></a>6</span> +hadn’t heard from him in years, and he’d been hoping +he was rid of him for good. Well, I was watching +him while he read the letter, and I saw him turn +white as a sheet. Later, while he was out to lunch, +I went to his desk and read the letter. I was just +that curious. It told Mr. Gage that the writer would +call on him inside forty-eight hours.” +</p> +<p> +“Was that all?” +</p> +<p> +“All but the name at the bottom—and the name +was the main thing.” +</p> +<p> +“Eh?” +</p> +<p> +“It was the name of the man Mr. Gage has been +afraid of all these years. When I saw that name +at the bottom of the note I felt a chill all over. +Say,” raising her voice, “why don’t you break in that +door?” +</p> +<p> +Pinto stroked his chin, as if strongly impressed by +what the woman had told him. Another group of +spectators had gathered at the entrance, and he +gruffly ordered them to disperse. Then he faced the +inner door, turned the knob, pushed. The door did +not yield, and he looked back over his shoulder. +</p> +<p> +“Whose name was signed to the note?” he demanded. +</p> +<p> +A look of awe crossed the housekeeper’s face. +She raised a bony arm and steadied herself against +the counter. A grayish pallor had suffused her +shriveled features. +</p> +<p> +“I—I can’t tell you,” she whispered. “I mustn’t. +Hurry—for Heaven’s sake!” +</p> +<p> +Something of her excitement seemed to have been +communicated to Pinto, but even now he appeared +loath to attack the door. +</p> +<p> +“If your boss was so all-fired scared of the guy +that sent him the note, why didn’t he call up the +police?” he queried suspiciously. Then a look of +comprehension dawned in his face. “I guess, though, +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_7'></a>7</span> +that he wasn’t very anxious to have the department +butt into his affairs, and maybe he thought the other +fellow’s bite was worse’n his bark. Well, here +goes.” +</p> +<p> +He stepped back a few paces, squared his shoulders +for action, then hurled his massive figure against +the door. The woman stood rigid, straining forward +a little, yet holding her hands before her face +as if dreading the sight that might meet her eyes. +Again and again Pinto flung his body against the +door, and finally, with a crash and a long splintering +sound, it flew open, precipitating him headlong into +the inner room. +</p> +<p> +A queer sound rose in the woman’s throat and she +lowered her hands. She made as if to follow the +policeman, but something held her back. From +where she stood, staring through the doorway, she +could see that the inner room was dark, and she +heard the policeman’s grunts and mutterings as he +struggled to regain his feet. Then came an interval +of silence, broken only by groping footfalls, and +presently a light appeared in the rear. Pinto had +found the electric switch. +</p> +<p> +The housekeeper shuddered as an exclamation +issued from the other room. Evidently the officer +had discovered something. Crouching in front of +the counter, she strained her ears, listening. Pinto +was speaking in low, quick accents, but she could not +make out the words, and she heard no answering +voice. +</p> +<p> +Finally, Pinto came out. His face was a little +white and his lips were set in a tight line. +</p> +<p> +“He’s dead,” he declared. +</p> +<p> +The woman shrank back against the counter. +“Murdered?” +</p> +<p> +The officer bawled a command to the neck-craning +group at the entrance to stand back. Without +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_8'></a>8</span> +answering the housekeeper’s question, he looked +quickly about the store till he spied a telephone on +a shelf behind the counter. The woman listened abstractedly +as he called a number and spoke a few +words into the transmitter. Then he stepped out +from behind the counter and faced her. +</p> +<p> +“Your boss is lying on the floor in there,” he announced, +jerking his huge head toward the inner +room, “with a knife wound in his chest. He was +breathing his last just as I got to him.” +</p> +<p> +The housekeeper jerked herself up, a look of +sullen passion in her blanched face. “Breathing his +last, was he?” Her voice was loud and shrill. +“Then he wasn’t dead yet! If you’d hurried, as I +told you to, we might have saved his life. I’ll report +you for this, Officer Pinto.” +</p> +<p> +“Cut that stuff! Nothing could have saved him. +He was too far gone. Say,” and Pinto bored his +sharp eyes into her twitching face, “what name was +signed to that letter?” +</p> +<p> +Twice she opened her lips to speak, but no words +came. +</p> +<p> +“Out with it! You’ve got to tell me now.” +</p> +<p> +The woman swallowed. “Why do you want to +know?” she asked faintly. +</p> +<p> +“I’ve got a reason. Just as Gage was drawing his +last breath, I got down beside him and asked him if +he could tell me who stabbed him. I guess he read +my lips; anyhow, he was able to whisper a name. I +want to know if it jibes with the name signed to the +letter Gage got yesterday.” +</p> +<p> +“Well, then”—she pressed her hands against her +breast—“the name on the letter was the Gray Phantom’s.” +</p> +<p> +Pinto ejaculated hoarsely. +</p> +<p> +“It jibes, all right!” he declared. +</p> +<h2><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_9'></a>9</span>CHAPTER II—THE MISSING BAUBLE</h2> +<p> +Just then a youngish man with a slouching gait +and a dead cigar between his teeth pushed +through the little knot of spectators at the entrance +and leveled a mildly inquisitive glance at +Pinto and the housekeeper. +</p> +<p> +The patrolman, after introducing the new arrival +as Lieutenant Culligore of the detective bureau, told +briefly what he had discovered. +</p> +<p> +Culligore doffed his dripping raincoat and banged +his soggy slouch hat against the counter. His dull +face and sluggish manners gave the impression that +he was never quite awake, but now and then a furtive +little gleam in his cinnamon-colored eyes betrayed a +saving sense of humor. He seemed unimpressed +until Pinto reached that point in his story where the +dying man had told the name of his assailant. Then +Culligore curled up his lip against the tip of his +nose, as was his habit when interested in something, +and motioned the patrolman to follow him into the +inner room. +</p> +<p> +There was an indefinable air about the chamber +that vaguely suggested the abode of one whose life +is hidden from the world. The ragged carpet and +the ancient wall paper were of neutral tones, and the +atmosphere was stale and oppressive, as if seldom +freshened by sun or wind. Lieutenant Culligore’s +drowsily blinking eyes traveled over the scene, yet he +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_10'></a>10</span> +appeared to see nothing. The safe in a corner +seemed rather too large for the modest requirements +of a tobacconist. Near by stood an ink-stained writing +desk and a chair. The clothing on the narrow +iron cot looked as though the occupant, suddenly disturbed +in his sleep, had sprung from it in a hurry. +</p> +<p> +In the center of the room lay a curiously twisted +figure, garbed in pajamas of pink flannel. Over the +heart was a dull stain, and the right arm lay across +the chest in a manner hinting that the dead man had +used his last ounce of strength to ward off a blow. +One of the legs was drawn up almost to the abdomen, +and the eyes were fixed on the ceiling in a +glassy stare. +</p> +<p> +“Well, Pinto?” Culligore looked as though he expected +the patrolman to do the necessary thinking. +</p> +<p> +“The corpse told me the Gray Phantom did it,” +said Pinto in a tone of finality. “Don’t you think +we’d better start a general alarm, sir?” +</p> +<p> +“Corpses are sometimes mistaken, Pinto.” The +lieutenant fumbled for a match and slowly kindled +his cigar. “I’ll bet a pair of pink socks that the +Phantom had nothing to do with this. The Phantom +always fought clean. I’d hate like blue blazes to +think that he pulled off this job.” +</p> +<p> +Pinto scowled a little, as if he couldn’t quite understand +why Culligore should reject an easy solution +of the mystery when it came to him ready-made. +</p> +<p> +“By the way,” and Culligore fixed an indolent eye +on the electric fixture above the desk, “was the light +on or off when you broke in?” +</p> +<p> +“It was off, sir. I turned it on myself.” +</p> +<p> +Culligore thought for a moment. “Well, that +doesn’t mean much. The murderer might have +switched it off before he made his get-away, or the +room might have been dark all the time. I’d give +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_11'></a>11</span> +a good smoke to know whether the murder was done +in the light or the dark.” +</p> +<p> +Pinto’s eyes widened inquiringly. +</p> +<p> +“You see, Pinto, if the light was on we can take +it for granted Gage saw the murderer’s face. If the +room was dark, then he was just guessing when he +told you it was the Phantom. It would have been a +natural guess, too, for he would be very apt to suppose +that the murderer was the man who had sent +him the threatening letter. Since we can’t know +whether Gage was stabbed in the light or the dark, +we’d better forget what he told you and take a fresh +start.” His eyes flitted about the room, and a flicker +of interest appeared in their depths. “How do you +suppose the murderer got out, Pinto?” +</p> +<p> +The patrolman looked significantly at the single +window in the room. Culligore took a spiral tape +measure from the little black box he always carried +when at work on a homicide case and measured the +width of the narrow sash. +</p> +<p> +“Too small,” he declared. “You’d have to yank +in your belt several notches before you could crawl +through a window of this size, Pinto. Anyhow, it’s +latched from the inside.” +</p> +<p> +A look of perplexity in his reddish face, Pinto +turned to the door. He looked a bit dazed as he +noticed the damage he had wrought in forcing it. +One of the panels was cracked in the center, and the +slot in which the bolt had rested had been torn out +of the frame. +</p> +<p> +“You see, Pinto.” There was a grin on Culligore’s +lips. “The murderer couldn’t have got out +of the window, because it’s much too small, and he +couldn’t have walked out through the door, because +it was bolted from the inside. There’s no transom, +so he could not have adjusted the bolt from the other +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_12'></a>12</span> +side. Nobody has yet figured out a way of passing +through a door or window and leaving it bolted on +the inside.” +</p> +<p> +Pinto stared at the door, at the window, and +finally at Culligore. The problem seemed beyond +him. Then he took his baton and, tapping as he +went, explored every square foot of floor and walls, +but no hollow sounds betrayed the presence of a +hidden opening. He shook his head in a flabbergasted +way. +</p> +<p> +“It’s possible, of course,” suggested the lieutenant, +“that the murderer was still in the room when +you broke in. He might have made his get-away +in the dark while you were hunting for the light switch.” +</p> +<p> +“The housekeeper would have seen him,” Pinto +pointed out. “She was standing just outside. And +there was a crowd at the entrance. Say,” and a +startled look crossed his face, “do you suppose Gage +killed himself?” +</p> +<p> +“That would be an easy solution, all right. But, +if he did, what was his idea in telling you that +the Phantom had done it? And I don’t see any knife +around. Gage wouldn’t have had the strength to +pull it out of the wound, and, even if he had, how +did he dispose of it? No, Pinto, Gage was murdered, +and—hang it all!—it’s beginning to look as +though the Phantom did it.” +</p> +<p> +“But you just said——” +</p> +<p> +“All I’m saying now is that it’s beginning to look +as if the Phantom had had a hand in it. Things +aren’t always what they seem, you know. I’m not +taking much stock in what Gage told you just before +he died. There are other reasons. One of them +is the size of that window. Another is the fact that +the door was bolted on the inside. Together they +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_13'></a>13</span> +show that the man who committed this murder accomplished +something of a miracle in getting out of +the room. The Phantom is the only man I know +who can do that sort of thing.” +</p> +<p> +He grinned sheepishly, as if conscious of having +said something that sounded extravagant. +</p> +<p> +“Stunts like that are the Phantom’s long suit,” he +went on. “He likes to throw dust in the eyes of the +police and keep everybody guessing. But he was +always a gentlemanly rascal, and it takes something +besides a bolted door and a window latched on the +inside to make me believe he has gotten down to dirty +work. Wish the medical examiner would hurry up.” +</p> +<p> +He took a cover from the cot and threw it over +the upper part of the body. A chance glance toward +the door made him pause. Just across the threshold, +with hands clasped across her breast and eyes fixed +rigidly on the lifeless heap on the floor, stood the +housekeeper. She awoke with a start from her reverie +as she felt the lieutenant’s steady gaze on her +face, and she shrank back a step. With a puckering +of the brows, Culligore turned away. His eyes fell +on the safe. +</p> +<p> +A pull at the knob told him it was locked. He +took a magnifying lens from his kit and carefully +examined the surface. Then, with a shake of the +head signifying he had found no finger prints, he +crooked his index finger at the housekeeper. She +advanced reluctantly, and Culligore studied her with +a sidelong glance. +</p> +<p> +“You needn’t talk unless you want to,” he said +gently. “The department isn’t offering you any immunity. +We’ve known for some time that Gage was +running a fence, though we never got the goods on +him.” +</p> +<p> +The woman, standing in a crouching attitude and +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_14'></a>14</span> +studiously avoiding Culligore’s gaze, swept a tress +of moist gray hair from her forehead. +</p> +<p> +“We’ve also suspected that you have been in cahoots +with him,” continued the lieutenant in casual +tones. “Oh, don’t get scared. We won’t go into +that just now. All I want is that we understand +each other.” +</p> +<p> +The woman raised her head and looked straight +at Officer Pinto, and there was a hint of dread in +her eyes as their glances met. A puzzled frown +crossed Culligore’s face as he noticed the strange +exchange of glances; then he pointed to the safe. +</p> +<p> +“Know how to open it?” +</p> +<p> +The housekeeper shook her head. “Mr. Gage +kept only cheap junk in it, anyhow. All he used it +for was a blind.” +</p> +<p> +“A blind?” +</p> +<p> +“He had to keep a lot of valuables in the house +all the time, and he was always afraid of burglars. +He kept a lot of phony stuff in the safe, thinking if +burglars found it they might be fooled and not look +any further.” +</p> +<p> +“Ah! Not a bad idea. Where did he keep the +real stuff?” +</p> +<p> +The woman hesitated for a moment; then, with a +quick gesture, she pointed to the old writing desk. +</p> +<p> +“Gage was a shrewd one,” observed the lieutenant. +“With a safe in the room, nobody would think +of looking for valuables in a broken-down desk. +Now,” drawing a little closer to the woman and trying +to catch her shifty eyes, “I wish you would tell +us who killed him. I think you know.” +</p> +<p> +A tremor passed over the woman’s ashen face, +and she fixed Pinto with a look that caused the +lieutenant to lift his brows in perplexity. Finally, +she pointed a finger at the patrolman. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_15'></a>15</span> +</p> +<p> +“You heard what he said, didn’t you? Mr. Gage +told him the Gray Phantom did it. Isn’t that +enough?” +</p> +<p> +Culligore regarded her narrowly, as if sensing an +attempt at evasion in what she had just said. Then +he nodded and seemed to be searching his memory. +</p> +<p> +“Let me see—Gage and the Phantom had some +kind of row a few years back?” +</p> +<p> +The housekeeper’s “Yes” was scarcely audible. +</p> +<p> +“What was it about?” +</p> +<p> +Her lips curled in scorn. “That’s what I could +never understand. They were quarreling like two +overgrown boys over a piece of green rock. Imitation +jade was what Mr. Gage called it. I never got +the story straight, but it seems the Phantom had been +carrying it around as a kind of keepsake for years. +He lost it finally, and somehow it got into Mr. +Gage’s hands. The Phantom wanted it back, but +Mr. Gage was just stubborn enough to hang on to it. +They had an awful rumpus, and I think the Phantom +threatened to get Mr. Gage some day.” +</p> +<p> +“All that fuss about a piece of phony jade? The +Phantom must have had some particular reason for +wanting it back. What was it shaped like?” +</p> +<p> +“It was a funny kind of cross, with eight tips +to it.” +</p> +<p> +“A Maltese cross, maybe.” Lieutenant Culligore +whistled softly. “The Phantom’s a queer cuss. +Likely as not he thought more of that piece of imitation +jade than most people would of a thousand +dollars. What I don’t see is why Gage wouldn’t +give it up. Unless,” he added with a shrewd grin, +“he knew how badly the Phantom wanted it and +hoped to make him cough up some real dough for it. +Wasn’t that it?” +</p> +<p> +A shrug was the housekeeper’s only response. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_16'></a>16</span> +</p> +<p> +“And the Phantom, of course, balked at the idea +of paying good money for his own property. But it +seems Gage would have given it up when he saw that +it was putting his life in danger. I suppose, though, +he thought the Phantom was only bluffing. He +didn’t believe anybody would commit a murder over +a thing that could be bought for a few cents.” +</p> +<p> +Again the housekeeper shot Pinto a queer glance. +“If you don’t want me any more, I think I’ll——” +</p> +<p> +“Just a moment,” interrupted Culligore. “I want +you to show me the letter Gage got yesterday.” +</p> +<p> +With a sullen gesture she stepped to the desk, +fumbled for a few moments among the drawers, +then drew forth a letter and handed it to the lieutenant. +Culligore examined the envelope and the +superscription under the light, then pulled out the +enclosure. +</p> +<p> +“‘The Gray Phantom neither forgives nor forgets,’” +he read aloud. “Short and to the point. +Now let’s have a look at the Maltese cross. But +wait—here’s the medical examiner. You’re late, +doc.” +</p> +<p> +“Car broke down.” The examiner, a thickset, +bearded, crisp-mannered individual, put a few questions +to Culligore and Pinto, then uncovered the +body, explored the region of the wound with an expert +touch, and finally jotted down a few notes in a +red-covered book. As he rose from his kneeling position, +the lieutenant gave him a signal out of the +corner of his eye, and the two men left the room +together. +</p> +<p> +“Just one question, doc.” Culligore spoke in low +tones, as if anxious that Pinto and the housekeeper +should not hear. “About that wound. How long +did Gage live after he was stabbed?” +</p> +<p> +“Not very long.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_17'></a>17</span> +</p> +<p> +“Long enough to tell Pinto the name of the man +who stabbed him?” +</p> +<p> +The examiner looked startled. “Yes, in all probability. +Say, you don’t suspect that cop in there +of——” +</p> +<p> +“Not after what you’ve told me.” Culligore +wheeled on his heels and re-entered the inner room. +His upper lip brushed the tip of his nose, signifying +he had learned something interesting. Pinto was +replacing the cover over the body, while the housekeeper, +standing a few paces away, was regarding +him with a fixed, inscrutable look. +</p> +<p> +“Now let’s see the Maltese cross,” directed the +lieutenant. +</p> +<p> +The woman jerked herself up. Her eyes held a +defiant gleam, but it died away quickly. With evident +reluctance she approached the desk and pointed. +</p> +<p> +“There’s a hidden drawer back there in the +corner,” she announced. “I don’t know how to open +it. You’ll have to find that out for yourself.” +</p> +<p> +Culligore, after looking in vain for a concealed +spring, took a small tool from his kit. To locate +the drawer without the woman’s help would have +been a difficult task, for it was ingeniously hidden in +an apparently solid portion of the desk. With a few +deft twists and jerks he forced it open and poured +out the contents, consisting of a great number of +small objects wrapped in tissue paper. Each of the +little wads contained a diamond. Unwrapping one +after another, Culligore gathered them in a glittering +heap on the desk. The stones varied in size and +brilliancy. Occasionally he raised one of them to +the light and inspected it keenly, satisfying himself +of its genuineness. +</p> +<p> +“Some eye-teasers!” he muttered. “But where’s +the Maltese cross?” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_18'></a>18</span> +</p> +<p> +The housekeeper’s face went blank. She stared +at the diamonds, then at the empty drawer. +</p> +<p> +“It was there day before yesterday,” she declared. +“Mr. Gage showed it to me.” +</p> +<p> +There was an odd tension in the lieutenant’s +manner. “Did the Phantom know about the secret +drawer and how to open it?” +</p> +<p> +The woman, one hand clutching the edge of the +desk, seemed to ponder. “I don’t know. He might +have. The Phantom called on Mr. Gage several +times after they started quarreling. But——” +</p> +<p> +“Well, it doesn’t matter.” There was a strain +of suppressed disappointment in Culligore’s tones, +and his face hinted that an illusion was slipping away +from him. “It looks as though the thing was settled. +The Gray Phantom is the only man I know who +would pass up some fifty thousand dollars’ worth of +diamonds after taking the trouble to steal a gewgaw +worth about two bits.” +</p> +<p> +With dragging gait he left the room, stepped behind +the counter outside, and spoke into the telephone. +In a few moments now the alarm would +go out and a thousand eyes would be searching for +the Gray Phantom. Culligore, tarrying for a little +after he had hung up the receiver, looked as though +he were in a mood to quarrel with his duty and with +the facts staring him in the face. Then he shrugged, +as if to banish regrets of which he was half ashamed, +and his face bore a look of dogged determination +when he stepped back into the bedroom. +</p> +<p> +“We’ll get him,” he announced with grim assurance. +“Inside fifteen minutes there’ll be a net thrown +around this old town so tight a mouse couldn’t +wriggle through.” +</p> +<p> +He picked up his hat and kit, and just then his +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_19'></a>19</span> +eyes fell on the housekeeper’s face. In vain he exercised +his wits to interpret the sly gaze with which +she was fixing Patrolman Pinto. +</p> +<p> +Did it mean fear, suspicion, horror, hate, or all +four? +</p> +<h2><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_20'></a>20</span>CHAPTER III—BLUE OR GRAY?</h2> +<p> +Cuthbert Vanardy was conscious of a +disquieting tension in the air. The long +shadows cast by the trees that stood in clusters +on the lawn of Sea-Glimpse impressed him as sinister +harbingers of coming events. The wind had a raw +edge, and it produced a dolorous melody as it went +moaning over the landscape. Vanardy recognized +the vague sense of depression and foreboding he +experienced as he walked down the path that wound +in and out among flower beds and parterres of +shrubbery. He had noticed it often in the past, and +always on the eve of some tragic event. +</p> +<p> +He could not understand, for of late his life had +fallen into serene and humdrum lines, and there had +been no hint of disturbing occurrences. His horticultural +experiments had kept him well occupied, and +he had derived a great deal of satisfaction from the +favorable comments which the products of his gardens +had created among experts at the horticultural +expositions in New York and Boston, as well as from +the speculations aroused concerning the identity of +the anonymous exhibitor, who for private reasons +preferred to remain unknown. Nothing of an exciting +nature had happened in several months, and, +but for his intangible misgivings, there was no sign +of an interruption to his tranquil life. +</p> +<p> +On the veranda he stopped and looked back into +the gathering dusk. The trees and shrubs, colored +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_21'></a>21</span> +and distorted by his restless imagination, took on +weird contours and seemed to assume life and motion. +No doubt, he told himself, the premonitions +he had felt of late were also the products of his +fancy. They could be nothing else, for he had severed +all the links connecting him with the old life. +Time had quieted all the dreams and impulses of his +former self. He smiled as it occurred to him that +his highest ambition at the present moment was to +produce a gray orchid. +</p> +<p> +It was only a whim, a diversion from more serious +work, but the novelty of the experiment, as well as +the difficulties in the way, appealed to him. By intricate +cross-breeding he was gradually developing +an orchid of a dim, mystic gray, his favorite color. +When once evolved, the hybrid should be known as +the Phantom Orchid. It would be the living symbol +of whatever had been good in his other self, the +Gray Phantom. +</p> +<p> +His thoughts went back to those other days when +he had gone, like a swaggering Robin Hood, from +one stupendous adventure to another. Even his +bitterest enemies, and there had been many of them, +had never accused the Gray Phantom of being actuated +by considerations of sordid gain. The public +had gasped and the police muttered maledictions as +he gratified his thirst for thrills and excitement, always +playing the game in strict accord with his code +and invariably planning his exploits so that his victims +were villains of a far blacker dye than he. +Always his left hand had tossed away what his right +hand had plucked. Hospitals, orphan asylums and +other philanthropic organizations became the recipients +of donations that were never traced to their +source. Princely and mysterious gifts poured into +garrets and hovels in a way that caused simple-minded +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_22'></a>22</span> +people to believe in a return of the day of +miracles. +</p> +<p> +The Gray Phantom, through it all, maintained an +elusiveness that completely baffled the police and +clothed his identity in a glamorous haze. So astounding +were his performances that there were +those who asked themselves whether he was not +practicing black magic. Once, in the early days of +his career, he fell into the clutches of the police, satisfying +the superstitious ones that he was really a +being of flesh and blood, but an amazing escape a +few days later revived the gossip of a rogue who +was in collusion with evil spirits. The Phantom was +greatly amused, and spurred his energies to even +more dizzying flights, but there were times when a +softer mood came upon him, and then he wondered +why his restless spirit could not have found a different +outlet. Perhaps the reason was to be found +in the remote and dimly remembered past when, +friendless and homeless, he had derived his philosophy +of life from thieving urchins and night-prowling +gangsters. +</p> +<p> +The years passed, and the Gray Phantom’s adventures +made his sobriquet known from coast to coast, +but gradually the life he was leading began to pall +on him. His exploits no longer gave him the thrills +he craved, and he began to search, at first blindly +and haltingly, for a more satisfying way of unleashing +his boundless energies. There came long lapses +between his adventures, and finally it began to be +rumored that the Gray Phantom had gone into retirement +with his accumulated treasures, for no one +guessed that he had flung away his spoils as fast as +he garnered them in. Nobody understood the true +reason for the change that had come over him, and +the Phantom least of all. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_23'></a>23</span> +</p> +<p> +He often wondered at the obscure impulses that +had impelled him to seek seclusion at Sea-Glimpse, +a narrow stretch of wooded land surrounded on +three sides by jagged coast line and in the rear by +forest and farm land. He could not understand +them, except that his new mode of life gave him a +sense of pleasing remoteness from things he wished +to forget, and at times he thought he would be content +to spend the rest of his days in this secluded +nook, secure from intrusion and free to devote himself +to his hobby and his books. +</p> +<p> +But to-night a vague unrest was upon him. He +peered into the shadows, constantly growing longer +and darker, and it seemed as if the ghostly figures +of his past were reaching out for him. Perhaps, +there was still a forgotten link or two that bound +him to the old life. He shrugged, as if to banish +disquieting thoughts, and entered the house. Stepping +into the library, he lighted his reading lamp and +took a work on horticulture from the shelf. There +was a problem in connection with the gray orchid +that he had not yet been able to work out satisfactorily. +He sat down and opened the book, but the +print danced and blurred beneath his eyes. A +woman’s face appeared out of nowhere, the same +face that had haunted him in idle moments for +months. His mental picture was dim and fragmentary, +and he could not distinctly remember even +the color of the hair or whether the eyes were blue +or gray, but the vision pursued him with the persistence +of a haunting scent or a strain from an old +familiar song. +</p> +<p> +Helen Hardwick and he had shared several adventures +and perils together. Only a few months +had elapsed since he rescued her from the clutches +of the mysterious “Mr. Shei,” the leader of an +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_24'></a>24</span> +arch-conspiracy which the Phantom had frustrated. +About a year before that he had emerged from his +retreat for long enough to restore to her father, +curator of the Cosmopolitan Museum, a collection +of Assyrian antiques that Hardwick had spent the +best years of his life in gathering, and which had +been stolen by a criminal organization headed by +the Phantom’s old-time enemy and rival, “The +Duke.” To Vanardy the achievement had meant +little more than a pleasing diversion and an opportunity +to humiliate a man whose personality and +methods he abhorred, and Helen Hardwick’s gratitude +had made him feel that she was giving him the +accolade of an undeserved knightship. She had +come to Sea-Glimpse to thank him, and her parting +glance and smile were still vivid in his recollection. +He often glanced dreamily at the spot where she had +stood when for an instant her hand lingered within +his. With the blood pounding against his temples, +he had exerted all his power of will to restrain himself +from calling her back. There were times when +he regretted having let her go like that, without hope +of seeing her again, but in his soberer moments he +saw the inevitableness of the outcome. In the eyes +of the world he was still an outlaw, and too great a +gulf separated the Gray Phantom and Helen Hardwick. +The memory of her eyes, warm, frank and +bright, would be with him always. He had her to +thank for the finest emotions he had ever experienced, +and he would try to be content with that. +</p> +<p> +She seemed little more than a dream to him now, +and even the dream was fragmentary. Again he +thought it strange that he could not remember the +color of her eyes or hair, and that little remained +with him save a misty and tantalizing vision of loveliness. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_25'></a>25</span> +</p> +<p> +He closed the book and passed to the window. +The moon had risen, bathing the narrow strip of +water visible between the birches and hemlocks in a +white mist. The house, which Vanardy had restored +from the dilapidated condition in which he had +found it, was silent save for an occasional creaking +of old timbers. Clifford Wade, once his chief lieutenant +and now the major-domo of his little household, +had gone to the village for the mail. The +Phantom stood lost in reflections, his deep gray eyes +soft and luminous. On occasion they could sting +and stab like points of steel, but in repose they were +the eyes of a dreamer. The nostrils were full and +sensitive, and the arch of the lips was partly obscured +by a short-cropped beard that would have made him +hard to recognize from his photograph in a revolving +case at police headquarters. +</p> +<p> +He turned as a knock sounded on the door. A +fat man stepped through the door, groaning and puffing +as if the task of carrying his huge body through +life were the bane of his existence. Wade, the ostensible +owner of Sea-Glimpse—for its real master +was seldom seen beyond the boundaries of the estate—placed +a bundle of mail on the table, gave his +master a long-suffering look, and withdrew. +</p> +<p> +With a listless air Vanardy glanced at the mail +and began to unfold the newspapers. He ran his +eyes over the headlines, and a caption, blacker and +larger than the rest, caught his languid attention. +He stared at it for moments, as if his brain were +unable to absorb its meaning. Slowly and dazedly +he mumbled the words: +</p> +<div class='center'> +<p>DYING MAN ACCUSES THE GRAY PHANTOM</p> +</div> +<p> +Presently his quickening eye was running down the +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_26'></a>26</span> +column of type. It was a lurid and highly colored +account of the murder of Sylvanus Gage, a crime +said by the police to be one of the strangest on +record. Headquarters detectives confessed themselves +baffled by several of the circumstances, and +especially by the fact that the murderer seemed to +have accomplished the apparently impossible feat of +making his escape through a door which had been +found bolted on the inside when the police reached +the scene. +</p> +<p> +The murder, it was stated, would probably have +gone down in the annals of crime as an unsolved +mystery but for the fact that the dying man had +whispered the name of his assailant to Patrolman +Pinto, who had been summoned to the scene by the +housekeeper, Mrs. Mary Trippe, after the latter had +been disturbed by a mysterious sound. The name +mentioned by the victim was that of Cuthbert Vanardy, +known internationally as the Gray Phantom +and regarded by the police as one of the most ingenious +criminals of modern times. +</p> +<p> +However, the account went on, the Gray Phantom’s +guilt would have been clearly established even +without his victim’s dying statement. It had been +learned that for some years a feud had existed between +the two men and that the Gray Phantom had +threatened to take his enemy’s life. The total absence +of finger prints and other tangible clews +strongly suggested that the deed could have been perpetrated +only by a criminal in the Phantom’s class. +The perplexing features added further proof of the +Phantom’s guilt. Who else could have made his +escape in such an inexplicable manner? Who but +the Gray Phantom, who was known to be pursuing +a criminal career for pleasure and excitement rather +than for the profits he derived from it, would have +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_27'></a>27</span> +left behind him a small fortune in perfect stones, +taking nothing but a worthless curio? +</p> +<p> +These and other details Vanardy read with interest. +He smiled as he reached the concluding paragraph, +stating that a countrywide search for the +murderer was in progress and that the police confidently +expected to make an arrest within twenty-four +hours. He glanced at the accompanying likeness of +himself, made from a photograph taken in the early +stages of his career. +</p> +<p> +“What drivel!” he exclaimed, tossing the paper +aside. Then, one by one, he glanced through the +other early editions of the New York evening newspapers. +All featured the Gage murder on the first +page, and all the accounts agreed in regard to essential +details. In <em>The Evening Sphere’s</em> story of +the crime, however, he detected a subtle difference. +It presented the same array of damning facts, pointing +straight to the inevitable conclusion of the Phantom’s +guilt, yet, between the lines, he sensed an +elusive quality that differentiated it from the others. +He read it again, more slowly this time; and here +and there, in an oddly twisted sentence or an ambiguous +phrase, he caught a hint that the writer of +the <em>Sphere’s</em> article entertained a secret doubt of the +Phantom’s guilt. +</p> +<p> +The suggestion was so feeble, however, that a +casual reader would scarcely have noticed it, and +whatever doubts the writer may have felt were +smothered under a mass of evidence pointing in the +opposite direction. He threw the paper down with +an air of disdain. Here, in this sheltered retreat, +what the world thought of him was of no account. +Serene in his seclusion, he could snap his fingers at +its opinions and suspicions. He sat down at the +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_28'></a>28</span> +piano, and a moment later his finely tapering fingers +were flashing over the keys. +</p> +<p> +Suddenly, in the midst of one of his favorite arias, +his hands began to falter. For a time he sat motionless, +with lips tightening, gazing narrowly at the +point where Helen Hardwick had stood at the moment +when he held her hand. His face was grim +and troubled, as if a disturbing thought had just +occurred to him. He got up and with long strides +passed to the desk, where he pressed a button. +</p> +<p> +“Wade,” he crisply announced when the fat man +reappeared, “I am going to New York in the morning.” +</p> +<p> +Wade sat down, drawing a squeaky protest from +an unoffending chair. “To New—New York?” he +stammered. +</p> +<p> +“Exactly. Tell Dullah to pack my grip. I shall +leave early, about the time you are getting your +beauty sleep.” +</p> +<p> +Wade blinked his little eyes. “But why, boss?” +</p> +<p> +“Here’s the reason.” Vanardy handed him one +of the papers he had been perusing, watching with an +amused smile the flabbergasted look that came into +the fat man’s face as he read. As he approached the +end of the article, wheezy gasps and indignant mutters +punctuated the reading. +</p> +<p> +“Rot!” he commented emphatically. “If I wasn’t +a fat man I’d lick the editor of this sheet within an +inch of his life. Why, you always played the game +according to the code, boss. You never killed a man +in all your life.” +</p> +<p> +“No, never.” +</p> +<p> +“And you were right here at Sea-Glimpse at the +time the murder was done.” +</p> +<p> +“True enough. But I might have some difficulty +proving it. Your own testimony wouldn’t be +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_29'></a>29</span> +particularly impressive. Besides, there’s just enough of +truth in the police theory to give color to the lies. +It is true Gage and I quarreled, and I believe I once +threatened to give the old skinflint a beating. It was +a foolish wrangle, involving nothing but a cross +made of imitation jade. I’d been wearing it attached +to a chain around my neck as far back as I +could remember. Who put it there I don’t know. +Perhaps——” +</p> +<p> +“Your mother—maybe,” suggested Wade, slanting +a searching gaze at Vanardy. +</p> +<p> +“I don’t know, Wade. You may be right. I +remember neither father nor mother. All I know +is that the cross seemed to be the only connecting +link between my present and the past I couldn’t remember. +I fought like mad when the street urchins +and gangsters tried to take it away from me, and +somehow, through thick and thin, I managed to +cling to it. Then, one day about six years ago, I +lost it. Probably the chain parted. Anyhow, in +some mysterious manner the cross fell into Gage’s +possession. I went to Gage and demanded it. He +must have seen how anxious I was to recover it, for +he put a stiff price on it. I was willing to pay—would +have paid almost anything—but each time I +began to count out the money Gage doubled his +price. So it went on for years, and I admit I sometimes +felt like strangling the old miser. But I never +threatened to kill him and I never wrote the letter +mentioned in the papers.” +</p> +<p> +“Somebody’s been doing some tall lying,” declared +Wade irately. “If I wasn’t so fat I’d make the fellow +that wrote this article eat his own words. But +you should worry, boss. They can’t get away with +it.” +</p> +<p> +“I am not so sure, Wade. Seems to me they’ve +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_30'></a>30</span> +made out a fairly complete case against the Gray +Phantom. The motive is substantial enough. There +are enough mysterious circumstances to suggest that +only the Phantom could have committed the crime. +The fact that the murderer stole a cheap trinket and +left fifty thousand dollars’ worth of real diamonds +behind him is rather impressive. And you mustn’t +forget that a little evidence against the Gray Phantom +will go a long way with a jury.” +</p> +<p> +Wade, a picture of ponderous wrath, crumpled +the newspaper in his huge fist. The fretful look in +the small round eyes signified that his mind was +grappling with a problem. +</p> +<p> +“The letter Gage got the day before the murder +must have been forged,” he ventured at last. +</p> +<p> +“Of course; but it may have been done skillfully +enough to deceive all but the keenest eye. Handwriting +experts have been known to disagree in matters +of that kind.” +</p> +<p> +The fat man reflected heavily. “Why didn’t Gage +beat it for the tall woods when he got the letter?” +</p> +<p> +“Because the tall woods are full of ambushes. +Likely as not the letter gave him a jolt at first. +Then, upon giving it a sober second thought, he +cooled down. His principal consideration was that +the Gray Phantom had never been known to commit +a murder, and that consequently the letter was either +a joke or a bluff.” +</p> +<p> +“But he told the cop it was the Gray Phantom +that stabbed him.” +</p> +<p> +“Naturally. A wound in the chest isn’t conducive +to clear thinking. We may assume that the murderer +approached his victim by stealth and that Gage +never saw the man who struck him down. Under +the circumstances it was natural enough for him to +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_31'></a>31</span> +suppose that, after all, the Gray Phantom had +carried out his threat. What else was he to think?” +</p> +<p> +An ominous rumble sounded in Wade’s expansive +chest. “You’ve been framed, boss.” +</p> +<p> +Vanardy nodded. “And it doesn’t require a great +deal of brilliance to figure out who engineered the +frame-up. The Duke has the reputation of being a +good hater.” +</p> +<p> +The fat man seemed startled. “But the Duke’s +in stir,” he argued. “You sent him there yourself.” +</p> +<p> +“So I did.” A pleased smile lighted Vanardy’s +features. “But two or three members of his gang +were not present at the round-up, and I have received +tips to the effect that they have been organizing +a new crowd. I suppose the Duke has been +communicating with them through underground +channels and instructing them in regard to this +frame-up. The Duke has sworn to get me, and +undoubtedly this is his method of accomplishing his +aim. He chose the mode of revenge which he +thought would hurt me most.” +</p> +<p> +“If I wasn’t a fat man I would—” began Wade. +</p> +<p> +“Save your threats. The Duke is a crafty rascal, +just as clever as he’s vindictive. That kind of a man +makes a bad enemy. The only way to queer his +game is to track down the man who did the crime. +That’s why I am going to New York in the morning. +The police will never find the culprit, for they +are wasting their time and energies looking for the +Gray Phantom. Therefore it’s up to me.” +</p> +<p> +A scowl deepened in Wade’s rubicund face. “The +world must be coming to an end when the Gray Phantom +turns detective. It’s the maddest, craziest thing +you ever did yet, boss.” +</p> +<p> +“It will be quite an adventure.” Vanardy’s eyes +twinkled. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_32'></a>32</span> +</p> +<p> +“It’s too risky, boss. Why, every dick and +harness bull and amateur sleuth on the American +continent is on the lookout for you.” +</p> +<p> +“Very likely.” +</p> +<p> +“The police have enough on you to send you to +the jug for a million years, even without the Sylvanus +Gage job. And you can just bet the Duke’s +gang will have their eyes peeled, watching their +chance to lead you into a trap.” +</p> +<p> +“I suppose so.” +</p> +<p> +The fat man sighed. He knew from long experience +that his chief, once his mind was made up, was +impervious to pleas and arguments. +</p> +<p> +“Why don’t you just sit tight?” was his final attempt. +“I don’t see what you’re worrying about. +They’ll never find you here. Nobody knows where +to look for you. You’re safe.” +</p> +<p> +“Sure of that?” Vanardy smiled queerly. +“There’s one person who knows where to find me.” +</p> +<p> +A look of startled comprehension came into +Wade’s face. “You mean the little queen who was so +heart-broken because the Duke had stolen a lot of +old Assyrian junk from her dad?” +</p> +<p> +“I mean Miss Helen Hardwick,” declared Vanardy +stiffly. “I was fortunate in being able to recover +the collection from the Duke and restore it to +Mr. Hardwick.” +</p> +<p> +“She was sure easy on the eyes!” rhapsodized +Wade, unrebuked. “But you let her slip away from +you, after you’d stirred up most of the earth to dry +her tears. I never got you on that deal boss. Why, +if I hadn’t been a fat man——” He sighed and rolled +wistful eyes at the ceiling. +</p> +<p> +Vanardy scowled, then laughed. +</p> +<p> +“Chuck the sentiment, you old clod-hopping hippo. +As far as I know, Miss Hardwick is the only living +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_33'></a>33</span> +person, outside our own circle, who is aware of my +whereabouts.” +</p> +<p> +“Will she give you away?” +</p> +<p> +“It depends,” murmured Vanardy. “If she believes +me guilty of murder she may consider it her +duty to inform the police, and she would be absolutely +right in doing so. But that’s neither here nor +there. I’m starting for New York in a few hours +to track down the murderer of Sylvanus Gage.” +</p> +<p> +Admiration clashed with anxiety in Wade’s face. +“I get you, boss. You want to keep the Gray Phantom’s +record clean. You don’t want any bloodstains +on his name. You don’t want the world to think that +you’ve committed a murder.” +</p> +<p> +An odd smile played about the Phantom’s lips. +“Wrong, Wade. It goes against the grain to have +a foul murder linked to one’s name, but it isn’t that. +I’m not lying awake nights worrying about the +world’s opinion. The only thing that troubles me +is——” He broke off, and his eyes sought the spot +where Helen Hardwick had stood. +</p> +<p> +“You needn’t say it, boss.” Wade’s voice was a +trifle thick as he struggled out of the chair and +gripped the other’s hand. “If I wasn’t a fat man I’d +tag right along, but I guess I’d only be in the way. +Good luck—and give my regards to the little wren.” +</p> +<p> +With slow, trundling strides he left the room. A +moment later the door had closed behind him, and +the Gray Phantom was alone. Once more, as he +paced the floor, his eyes were soft and luminous. +Suddenly he paused and bent a reverential look on +the rug at his feet, as if he were standing in a hallowed +spot. +</p> +<p> +“Blue or gray?” he mumbled. +</p> +<h2><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_34'></a>34</span>CHAPTER IV—MR. ADAIR, OF BOSTON</h2> +<p> +“Roland Adair, Boston, Massachusetts.” +It was thus the Gray Phantom inscribed the +register at Hotel Pyramidion, while an affable +clerk beamed approval on his athletic and well-groomed +figure. +</p> +<p> +“What do you require, Mr. Adair?” +</p> +<p> +“Parlor, bedroom, and bath, with southern exposure, +preferably above the sixth floor.” +</p> +<p> +The clerk, intuitively sensing that the new arrival +was one accustomed to having his wishes complied +with, glanced at his card index. “We have exactly +what you want, Mr. Adair.” +</p> +<p> +“Good! I wish breakfast and the morning newspapers +sent to my apartment at once.” +</p> +<p> +“It shall be done, Mr. Adair.” The clerk bowed +debonairly, little suspecting that the new guest, who +so unmistakably presented all the earmarks of a cultured +and leisurely gentleman, was at this moment +the most “wanted” man on the North American +continent. The guest himself grinned in his short +black beard while an elevator carried him to the +ninth floor, and an acute observer would have gained +the impression that he was bent upon an adventure +hugely to his liking. +</p> +<p> +He ate his breakfast slowly and with keen relish, +meanwhile glancing over the newspapers, which were +still featuring the East Houston Street murder as +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_35'></a>35</span> +the chief sensation. Nothing had as yet been discovered +which threw the faintest light on the peculiar +manner in which the slayer had left the scene +of his crime, and it was regarded as doubtful +whether this mysterious phase of the case would be +cleared up until after the Gray Phantom’s arrest. +It had been ascertained that the notorious criminal +was not aboard any of the vessels that had sailed +for foreign ports since the murder, so it was thought +probable that the fugitive was still in the country, +and it was confidently declared by police officials that +the dragnet would gather him in before long. +</p> +<p> +The accounts in the various papers were substantially +similar, but again the Phantom detected a +faintly dissenting note in the <em>Sphere’s</em> article. It was +so slight as to be scarcely discernible, but to the Phantom +it signified a lurking doubt in the writer’s mind, +and a suggestion that the <em>Sphere’s</em> reporter sensed a +weak link in the chain of evidence. +</p> +<p> +“I’ll have a talk with the fellow,” he decided. “I +might ask him to take dinner with me this evening. +He may prove interesting.” +</p> +<p> +He finished his coffee and lighted a long, thin +cigar, then passed to the window and watched the +procession below. After his long and monotonous +seclusion at Sea-Glimpse the life of the city acted as +a gentle electric stimulant on his nerves. He glowed +and tingled with sensations that had lain dormant +during long months of tedium, and the strongest +and raciest of these was a feeling of ever present +danger. +</p> +<p> +The Gray Phantom did not deceive himself. His +present adventure was by far the most hazardous of +his career. On the one hand he was threatened by +the nimble-witted man hunters of the police department, +and on the other by the henchmen of the Duke. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_36'></a>36</span> +His only hope of safety lay in his subtler intelligence, +which had seldom failed him in moments of danger, +and the temporary protection afforded by his beard. +</p> +<p> +Luckily, the only photograph of him in existence, +the one the newspapers had displayed on their front +pages the morning after the murder, showed him +smooth shaven. The beard, giving him a maturer +and somewhat more professional appearance, afforded +a thin and yet fairly satisfactory disguise, but +it would be of scant use if by the slightest misstep or +careless move he should attract suspicion to himself. +In such an event, certain records filed away in the +archives of the police would quickly establish his +identity as the Gray Phantom. Nevertheless, he +was pleased that the descriptions carried by the newspapers +had made no mention of a beard. +</p> +<p> +There was a measure of safety, too, in the sheer +audacity with which he was proceeding. The man +hunters might look everywhere else, but they would +scarcely expect to find their quarry living sumptuously +at a first-class hotel. His free and easy mode +of conduct, unmarked by the slightest effort at concealment, +afforded a protection which he could not +have found in the shabbiest hovel and under the +most elaborate disguise. +</p> +<p> +Yet, despite all the safeguards his brain could +invent, the situation was perilous enough to give the +Gray Phantom all the excitement his nature craved. +His pulses throbbed, and there was a keen sparkle +in his eyes as he left the hotel and went out on the +streets. The very air seemed charged with a quality +that held him in a state of piquant suspense. The +policemen appeared more alert than usual, and now +and then snatches of conversation reached his ears +from little groups at street corners and in doorways +who were avidly discussing the Gage murder and the +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_37'></a>37</span> +chances of the Gray Phantom being caught. At each +subway entrance and elevated stairway loitered a +seemingly slothful and impassive character whom +his trained eye easily identified as a detective. +</p> +<p> +Chuckling softly in his beard, the Phantom walked +on. No one seemed to suspect that the striking and +faultlessly garbed figure that sauntered down the +streets with such a carefree and easy stride, looking +for all the world like a leisurely gentleman out for +his morning constitutional, might be the object of one +of the most thorough and far-reaching man hunts +ever undertaken by the police. Occasionally he +paused to inspect a window display, incidentally +listening to a discussion in which his name was frequently +mentioned. The East Houston Street murder, +which under ordinary circumstances would have +attracted but passing notice, had become a tremendous +sensation because of the Gray Phantom’s supposed +connection with it. +</p> +<p> +Gradually he veered off the crowded thoroughfares +and entered into a maze of crooked, narrow, +and squalid streets where housewives and children +with dirt-streaked faces viewed his imposing figure +with frank curiosity. After a glance at a corner +sign he turned east, quickening his pace a little and +scanning the numbers over the doorways as he proceeded. +One of the buildings, a murky brick front +with a funeral wreath hanging on the door and a +tobacconist’s sign lettered across the ground-floor +window, he regarded with more than casual interest. +</p> +<p> +“Sylvanus Gage, Dealer in Pipes, Tobacco, and +Cigars,” he read in passing; then, after a moment’s +hesitation, he pursued his eastward course, a thoughtful +pucker between his eyes. He was trying to outline +a course of procedure, a matter to which +hitherto he had given scant attention, for the Phantom +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_38'></a>38</span> +was the veriest tyro in the science of criminal +investigation. It occurred to him that one of his +first steps should be an inspection of the scene of the +murder. +</p> +<p> +A few blocks farther east he turned into a once +famous restaurant and ordered luncheon. He dallied +over the dishes, smoked a cigar while he drank +his coffee, and it was after three o’clock when he +left the place and headed in the direction of the +tobacco store. This time he paused in front of the +establishment, looked through the window, and finding +the interior deserted, resolutely rang the bell. +Some time passed before the side door was opened +by a flat-chested woman with sharp features and +unkempt gray hair. +</p> +<p> +“What do you want?” she demanded sulkily, regarding +the caller with oddly piercing eyes. “Can’t +you see the store’s closed?” +</p> +<p> +The Phantom lifted his hat and smiled urbanely. +“Sorry to intrude,” he murmured. “You are Mrs. +Trippe, I believe?” +</p> +<p> +“Well, suppose I am?” +</p> +<p> +“The late Mr. Gage’s housekeeper?” +</p> +<p> +“What’s that to you?” +</p> +<p> +“I am Mr. Adair, of Boston,” explained the +Phantom, unruffled by her churlish demeanor. He +and the woman had met once or twice during his +stormy interviews with Gage, but he felt sure she did +not recognize him. “You may have heard of me as +an amateur investigator of crime,” he went on easily. +“I have established a modest reputation in that line. +This morning I happened to read an account of Mr. +Gage’s tragic death, and some of the circumstances +impressed me as interesting. Could I trouble you +to show me the room in which the crime was committed?” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_39'></a>39</span> +</p> +<p> +His hand was in the act of extracting a bank note +from his pocket, but he checked it in time, a sixth +sense warning him that Mrs. Trippe might resent +an attempt to grease her palm. +</p> +<p> +“I don’t see what you want to pester me for,” +she muttered sullenly, fixing him with a look of obvious +suspicion. “The police have almost worried +the life out of me with their fool questions and carryings-on. +The case is settled and there’s nothing +more to investigate.” +</p> +<p> +“Sure of that, Mrs. Trippe?” He had detected +a faint hesitancy in her speech and manner, and he +was quick to take advantage of it. Incidentally he +noticed that she had aged a great deal since he last +saw her, and he doubted whether he should have +recognized her if they had met by chance. “What +about the murder’s manner of escape?” he added. +“I understand that hasn’t been explained yet.” +</p> +<p> +“Well, he escaped, didn’t he? I don’t see that it +makes any difference <em>how</em> he did it. The Gray Phantom +always did things his own way. But,” after +a few moments’ wavering, “you can come in and +look around.” +</p> +<p> +Her abrupt acquiescence surprised him, and he +guessed it was not wholly due to a desire to be +obliging. He wondered, as he followed her through +the store, whether her decision to admit him was not +prompted by a wish to see what deductions he would +make after inspecting the scene of the crime. +</p> +<p> +She opened the inner door, remarking that the +damage wrought by Officer Pinto had been repaired +a few hours after the murder and that the police +department’s seal had been removed only a short +while ago. The Phantom passed into the narrow +chamber, only slightly altered in appearance since +the time of his last visit. The realization that he was +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_40'></a>40</span> +viewing the scene of a crime supposed to have been +perpetrated by himself appealed strongly to his dramatic +instinct, and the thought that at this moment +the police were searching for him with a fine-toothed +comb lent a touch of humor to the situation. +</p> +<p> +The woman stepped to the small window in the +rear and raised the shade, then stationed herself at +the door, peering at him out of wary, narrow-lidded +eyes, as if intent on his slightest move. The Phantom +glanced at the rickety desk at which Gage had +sat while haggling over petty sums and figuring percentages +to the fraction of a cent. +</p> +<p> +“I see one of the drawers has been forced open,” +he remarked. +</p> +<p> +“Lieutenant Culligore did that,” explained the +woman. “That was the drawer where Mr. Gage +kept most of his valuables.” +</p> +<p> +“Including the Maltese cross,” the Phantom +smilingly put in. +</p> +<p> +Mrs. Trippe nodded. “There’s a spring somewhere +that opens and shuts it, but none of us could +find it, and so Lieutenant Culligore had to break +the drawer open.” +</p> +<p> +“Yet the cross was gone,” observed the Phantom, +“and the drawer was intact when Lieutenant Culligore +found it. That would seem to indicate that the +murderer knew how to operate the spring.” +</p> +<p> +“Well, hasn’t the Phantom proved that he knows +just about all there is to know?” +</p> +<p> +“I am sure the Phantom would feel highly complimented +if he could hear you say that.” He +smiled discreetly, realizing that here was another +item of proof, for he was willing to wager that, +though he had never seen Gage work the spring, he +could have opened the drawer without laying violent +hands upon it. He turned to the window, carefully +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_41'></a>41</span> +examined the catch, then raised the lower half and +endeavored to thrust his shoulders through the opening. +The attempt satisfied him that even a smaller +man than himself would have found it impossible to +squeeze through. +</p> +<p> +That left only the door as a means of egress and +ingress, and the door had been bolted on the inside +when Officer Pinto arrived, which circumstance +seemed to render it flatly impossible for the murderer +to have escaped that way. He tried the lock +and examined the stout bolt, then stepped through +to the other side, closing the door behind him. A +wrinkle of perplexity appeared above his eyes. Even +the Phantom’s nimble wits could not devise a way +of passing through the door and leaving it bolted on +the inside. The feat did not seem feasible, and yet +the murderer must have accomplished it. His face +wore a frown as he reëntered the little chamber. +</p> +<p> +“Can’t figger it out, eh?” The housekeeper +seemed to have read his mind. “Well, you needn’t +try. The police did, and they had to give it up as +a bad job. The Phantom has a cute little way with +him, doing things so they can’t be explained.” +</p> +<p> +“And yet,” facing her squarely, “you don’t think +the Phantom committed the murder?” +</p> +<p> +A scarcely perceptible shiver ran through her +shrunken figure. “What else can I think?” she +parried. +</p> +<p> +He shrugged his shoulders. The impression +haunted him that she was not so sure of the Phantom’s +guilt as she appeared. He ran his eyes over +the floor, the walls, and the murky ceiling. +</p> +<p> +“And you needn’t try to find any hidden openings, +either,” she told him, again reading his unspoken +thoughts. “A bunch of headquarters detectives +spent half a day tapping the walls and the ceiling +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_42'></a>42</span> +and ripping up boards in the floor. The Phantom——” +</p> +<p> +The jangle of the bell at the outer door interrupted +her, and she looked scowlingly toward the +front of the store. “I guess that’s Officer Pinto,” +she muttered. “He’s on night duty, but he’s been +prowling around here most of the time since the +murder, asking silly questions when he ought to be +in bed.” +</p> +<p> +A hard, wary glitter appeared in the Phantom’s +eyes as she left the room. In an instant he had +scented danger. +</p> +<h2><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_43'></a>43</span>CHAPTER V—DANGER</h2> +<p> +Coolly, though every nerve and muscle in his +body were on the alert, the Phantom took a +case from his pocket and lighted a cigarette. +He stood face to face with a peril of a tangible and +definite kind. The protecting beard was dependable +only so long as he did not attract the attention of +the police and invite a closer scrutiny. It would not +for long deceive an officer whose training had made +him habitually suspicious of appearances and who +had been drilled in the art of seeing through disguises. +</p> +<p> +Voices came from the outer room, Mrs. Trippe’s +surly tones clashing with the gruff accents of Officer +Pinto. The Phantom felt a tingle of suspense. It +was the kind of situation he would have thoroughly +enjoyed but for the fact that in this instance he could +not jeopardize his liberty without also endangering +his purpose. +</p> +<p> +Footsteps approached, and presently a stocky +figure, with the housekeeper hovering behind, stood +framed in the doorway. The Phantom, smiling serenely, +felt instant relief the moment he glanced at +the heavy and somewhat reddish features, with the +unimpressive jaw and the stolid look in the eyes. +Pinto might be a faithful plodder and a dangerous +adversary in a physical encounter, but it was plain +that he possessed only ordinary intelligence. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_44'></a>44</span> +</p> +<p> +“Well, who’re <em>you</em>?” bluntly demanded the officer. +</p> +<p> +It was the housekeeper who answered. “He says +he is Mr.——What did you say your name was?” +</p> +<p> +“Mr. Adair, of Boston,” replied the Phantom +with an air of superb tranquillity, adding the explanation +he had already invented for Mrs. Trippe’s +benefit. “Hope I’m not intruding,” he concluded. +</p> +<p> +Pinto stepped inside, his eyes fixed on the Phantom’s +face in a hard stare. Then, by slow degrees, +the churlish expression left his features and a slightly +contemptuous grin took its place. +</p> +<p> +“You’re welcome,” he declared. “Go as far as +you like. I s’pose you’re trying to dope out how +the Phantom got out of the room. Well, believe +me, you’ll have to do some tall thinking.” +</p> +<p> +The Phantom chuckled affably. Evidently Pinto +had classified him as one of the harmless cranks +who flock in the wake of the police whenever a mysterious +crime has taken place. +</p> +<p> +“I was just discussing the problem with Mrs. +Trippe,” he announced easily. “It’s a fascinating +riddle. I infer it has gripped you, too, since you +come here in civilian clothes while not on duty.” +</p> +<p> +“Well, I’ve been kidding myself along, thinking +maybe I would find the solution.” Pinto’s face bore +a sheepish look. “There’s got to be a solution +somewhere, you know, and——” +</p> +<p> +“And it would be a feather in your cap if you +were the one who found it first,” put in the Phantom +genially. “Perhaps it would mean promotion, too—who +knows? But has it occurred to you that the +murderer’s exit is no more mysterious than his entrance? +If he accomplished a miracle getting out, +he also accomplished a miracle getting in.” +</p> +<p> +“The Phantom’s strong for the miracle stuff, all +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_45'></a>45</span> +right. But it’s possible Gage himself let the murderer +in. Maybe he expected somebody to call. +Anyhow, we know the villain got in somehow. What +I’d like to know is how he got out.” +</p> +<p> +The Phantom’s eyes had been on the floor, near +the point where, according to the newspaper articles +he had read, Gage’s body must have been found. +Of a sudden he looked up, and the gaze he surprised +in Pinto’s slyly peering eyes sent a tingle of apprehension +through his body. He wondered whether +the patrolman was as obtuse as he seemed. +</p> +<p> +“I understand,” he said without a tremor in his +voice, “that you found the room dark upon breaking +in. Couldn’t the murderer have slipped out +while you were looking for the light switch?” +</p> +<p> +“Huh!” The contemptuous snort came from +Mrs. Trippe, who, with arms crossed over her chest, +stood in the rear of the room. “How could he, I’d +like to know, with me standing right outside the +door and a crowd of rubbernecks at the main entrance?” +</p> +<p> +The Phantom seemed to ponder. The theory he +had just suggested did not seem at all plausible, and +his only purpose in mentioning it had been to turn +Pinto’s thoughts in a new direction. +</p> +<p> +“I’d swear the rascal wasn’t in the room when I +broke in,” declared the patrolman with emphasis. +</p> +<p> +“And he couldn’t have got out before,” remarked +the Phantom, with a grin. At the same moment he +felt Mrs. Trippe’s eyes on his face. She was gazing +at him as if his last remark had made a profound +impression upon her. He sensed a new and baffling +quality in the situation, something that just eluded +his mental grasp, and he began to wonder whether +the housekeeper did not know or suspect something +which she had not yet told. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_46'></a>46</span> +</p> +<p> +“The Phantom’s a devil,” observed Pinto, again +slanting a queer glance at the other man. “Nobody +of flesh and bone could pull off a stunt like this. +Maybe some day he’ll tell us how he did it. He’ll +be roped in before long. Say,” with a forced laugh, +“wouldn’t it be funny if he should get caught right +here, in this room? They say a murderer always +comes back to the scene of his crime.” +</p> +<p> +All the Phantom’s self-control was required to +repress a start. Pinto’s remark, though uttered in +bantering tones, was entirely too pointed to have +been casual, and the gleam in his eyes testified that +his suspicions were aroused. +</p> +<p> +“I think the Phantom’s talents have been grossly +overestimated. When he is caught we shall probably +find that he is quite an ordinary mortal. Don’t +you think so, Mrs. Trippe?” +</p> +<p> +The woman started, then mumbled something +unintelligible under her breath. +</p> +<p> +“Well, maybe,” said Pinto. “I’ve got a feeling +in my elbow that says he’ll be caught before night, +and then we’ll see. He may be an ordinary mortal, +but I’ll be mighty interested to know how he got +out of this room. Got any ideas on the subject, +Mr. Adair?” +</p> +<p> +The Phantom’s frown masked the swift working +of his mind. “Yes, but you will laugh when I tell +you what they are. My frank opinion is that the +Phantom had nothing whatever to do with this +murder.” +</p> +<p> +Mrs. Trippe stared at the Phantom as if expecting +an astounding revelation to fall from his lips. +</p> +<p> +Patrolman Pinto, too, seemed taken aback. A +little of the color fled from his face, and for an +instant his eyes held an uneasy gleam. In a moment, +however, he had steadied himself, and a raucous +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_47'></a>47</span> +chuckle voiced his opinion of the Phantom’s last +statement. +</p> +<p> +“Say, you amateur dicks make me laugh. The +Phantom had nothing to do with it, eh? Well, if +he didn’t commit this murder, maybe you’ll tell us +who did.” +</p> +<p> +The Phantom, quiveringly alert, strolled across +the floor and back again. There was a bland smile +on his lips and the amused twinkle in his eyes concealed +the tension under which his mind was laboring. +</p> +<p> +“That’s asking a lot of an amateur detective, isn’t +it?” he suavely inquired. “Maybe it will help you, +however, to know how the situation looks to a lay-man. +You say you are willing to swear that the +murderer was not in the room when you broke in. +It is almost equally certain, viewing the matter in +the natural order of things, that he could not have +left the room between the commission of the crime +and your forcible entrance. Therefore——” +</p> +<p> +He broke off, feeling a violent rush of blood to the +head. He had been talking against time, hoping to +find a way of diverting Pinto’s suspicions from himself. +Suddenly it struck him that his rambling discourse +had led him straight to the solution of the +mystery. The revelation flashed through his mind +like a swift, blinding glare. To hide his agitation he +lighted a cigarette. Through the spinning rings of +smoke he saw the housekeeper’s ashen face, mouth +gaping and eyes staring with fierce intensity. +</p> +<p> +“Well?” prompted Pinto. His voice was a trifle +shaky. +</p> +<p> +The Phantom was himself again. “Well, as I +was about to say, if the murderer was not in the room +when you broke in, then the circumstances point +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_48'></a>48</span> +straight to you, Mr. Pinto, as the murderer of +Sylvanus Gage.” +</p> +<p> +For a time the room was utterly still. The policeman +seemed torn between astonishment and a +nervous fear. The housekeeper held her breath, her +features twisted into a smile that rendered her expression +ghastly. +</p> +<p> +“I knew it!” she cried. “I knew it all the time!” +</p> +<p> +“You must be crazy,” muttered Pinto, at last finding +his voice. +</p> +<p> +“Not at all. But for the fact that you are an +officer in good standing, you would have been suspected +immediately. In the light of all the circumstances, +it stands to reason that the man who broke +through the door was the man who murdered Gage. +No one else could have done it. Mrs. Trippe, do +you remember how long Pinto was alone in the room +after forcing his way in?” +</p> +<p> +The housekeeper seemed to search her memory. +“It took him several moments to find the electric light +switch,” she mumbled haltingly. “After that—well, +he was in there for some time before he came +out. Maybe two minutes, maybe five—I can’t be +sure.” +</p> +<p> +“At any rate, long enough to drive a knife into +Gage’s chest.” There was an exultant throb in the +Phantom’s tones, the eagerness of the hunter who +is tracking down his quarry. “Gage, we may assume, +was awakened by the noise when the door crashed in, +and sprang from his bed. You probably grappled +in the dark. Then——” +</p> +<p> +Pinto interrupted with a harsh, strident laugh. +“Some cock-and-bull story you’re handing us! If +I killed Gage, then Mrs. Trippe here must have +been in on the job. It was she who called me and +told me to force the door.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_49'></a>49</span> +</p> +<p> +The Phantom waved his hand airily. “Because +she had heard a mysterious noise. That noise may +have been prearranged to give you a chance to knife +Gage. I don’t pretend to understand all the minor +details yet, but the essentials are clear as day. You +must have committed the murder, for the simple +reason that nobody else could have done it.” +</p> +<p> +“Yeh?” There was a vicious sneer in Pinto’s +face. “Maybe you’ll tell me, then, why Gage thought +the Phantom was the one who knifed him.” +</p> +<p> +“Because of the forged letter he had received the +day before. Besides, Pinto, we don’t know that Gage +thought anything of the kind. We have nothing but +your word for it. You were the only witness to the +declaration you say Gage made. A man who will +commit a cowardly murder is also capable of telling +a lie.” +</p> +<p> +Great bluish veins stood out on Pinto’s forehead. +“You’re doing fine for an amateur dick,” he jeered. +“All you’ve got to do now is to figger out a motive, +and the case will be complete.” +</p> +<p> +“Motive? Ah, yes! The Duke has a habit of +recruiting his men in queer places. Once he had an +assistant district attorney on his staff; at another time +an associate professor of philosophy with a penchant +for forbidden things. Why shouldn’t he have a hard-working +patrolman?” +</p> +<p> +Pinto’s figure squirmed beneath his gaze. +</p> +<p> +“Such a man would prove useful to the Duke, +especially if he wanted to frame an enemy,” pursued +the Phantom. “Nobody suspects a policeman. A +man in uniform is beyond reproach. Even if the +circumstances of a crime point straight to him as +the perpetrator, it is always easier to suspect somebody +else, particularly someone who has a criminal +record. I guess you banked on that, Pinto.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_50'></a>50</span> +</p> +<p> +His tones bespoke a free and easy confidence, but +he felt none of it. He believed that the murderer +of Sylvanus Gage stood before him, but his only +reason for thinking so was that, so far as appearances +went, no one else could have committed the crime. +He was poignantly aware that his theory would be +laughed at and derided, and that he himself would +be subjected to the hollow farce of a trial which must +inevitably result in his conviction. Once in the +clutches of the police, his chances of clearing himself +would be extremely slender. “Well, Pinto, what +about it?” His tones were clear and faintly taunting, +giving no hint of the swift play of his wits. +“Did you take the precaution of arranging an alibi?” +</p> +<p> +“No, I didn’t.” The policeman spoke defiantly. +For an instant he fumbled about his pockets, as if +searching for something. Evidently the object he +wanted was not to be found about his civilian garb. +“I didn’t have to fix up an alibi. Say, Mr. Adair——” +</p> +<p> +He paused for a moment and came a step closer +to the Phantom. +</p> +<p> +“Say,” he went on, “while you’re telling us so +much, maybe you’ll tell us how long the Gray Phantom +has been wearing a beard.” +</p> +<p> +Momentarily startled by the verbal thrust, the +Phantom was unprepared for the physical attack that +instantly followed. He felt the sudden impact of +the policeman’s ponderous body, precipitating him +against the farther wall of the chamber. In a +moment, with unexpected agility, the officer had +seized Mrs. Trippe by the arm and hurried her from +the room. +</p> +<p> +Then a door slammed and a key turned gratingly +in the lock. The Gray Phantom was alone, a +prisoner. +</p> +<h2><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_51'></a>51</span>CHAPTER VI—THE WAY OUT</h2> +<p> +Dusk was falling, and the little room was almost +dark. The sudden attack, all the more +surprising because of Pinto’s previous air of +stolidity, had left the Phantom a trifle dazed, but +in a twinkling he realized the full seriousness of his +dilemma. The door had no sooner slammed than +he was on his feet, regaining his breath and flexing +his muscles for action. +</p> +<p> +With a spring agile as a panther’s he threw himself +against the door. Once it had succumbed to +the superior weight of Patrolman Pinto’s body, but +the Phantom’s leaner and nimbler figure was no +match for its solid resistance. After thrice hurling +himself against the obstruction, he saw that he was +only wasting time and strength. +</p> +<p> +Hurriedly he switched on the light. From his +pocket he took a box containing an assortment of +small tools which on several occasions had stood him +in good stead. In vain he tried to manipulate the +lock, finding that it was too solidly imbedded in the +wood. Next he tried the hinges, but the flaps were +fastened on the other side of the door and therefore +inaccessible. He cudgeled his wits, but to no +avail; evidently the door was an impassable barrier. +It seemed by far the most substantial part of the +room, suggesting that Gage might have had it specially +constructed as a protection against burglars. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_52'></a>52</span> +</p> +<p> +He sprang to the window, then recalled that he +had already ascertained that it was too narrow to +permit him to crawl through. Another precaution +of the wily Sylvanus Gage, he grimly reflected. His +eyes, quick and crafty, darted over floor, ceiling, and +walls, but nowhere could he see a sign of a movable +panel or a hidden passage, and he remembered Mrs. +Trippe’s statement that headquarters detectives had +spent half a day searching for a secret exit. Though +he worked his wits at furious speed, the situation +baffled his ingenuity. +</p> +<p> +The Phantom perceived he was trapped. The +amazing luck that had attended him in the past had +made him reckless and indiscreet, and now it seemed +to have deserted him like a fickle charmer. He supposed +that Pinto, too shrewd to attempt to deal +single-handed with such a slippery and dangerous +adversary as the Gray Phantom, was already in communication +with headquarters, summoning reënforcements. +In a few minutes he would be hemmed in +on all sides and pounced upon by overwhelming numbers +of policemen, and in a little while the newspapers +would shriek the sensation that at last the Gray +Phantom had been captured. +</p> +<p> +It surprised him that he could view the end of his +career with philosophical calm, unaffected by vain +regrets. He had always suspected that some day an +overbold play on his part would result in his undoing, +and he had trained himself to look upon his +ultimate defeat with the indifference of a cynic and +fatalist, but he had never guessed that the crisis +would come like this. He smiled faintly as it dawned +on him that the disaster which now stared him in +the face was the direct result of his determination to +vindicate himself in the eyes of a woman. He had +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_53'></a>53</span> +played for high stakes in the past, but Helen Hardwick’s +faith in him was the highest of them all. +</p> +<p> +His smile faded as quickly as it had come. There +was a sting in the realization that his boldest and +biggest game was foredoomed to failure. Only a +few more minutes of liberty remained, and after that +all chance of exculpating himself would be gone. +Officer Pinto, having become famous of a sudden as +the Gray Phantom’s captor, would now, more than +ever before, be beyond suspicion, and he could be +depended upon to make the most of his advantage. +The Phantom, whose hands had never been sullied +by contact with blood, would be an object of horror +and loathing as the perpetrator of a vile and sordid +murder. Helen Hardwick, like all the rest, would +shudder at mention of his name. +</p> +<p> +The dismal thoughts went like flashes through his +mind. Only a few minutes had passed since the door +slammed. The thought of Helen Hardwick caused +a sudden stiffening of his figure and imbued him with +a fierce desire for freedom. He refused to believe +that his star had set and that this was the end. Many +a time he had wriggled out of corners seemingly as +tight and unescapable as the present one, chuckling +at the discomfiture of the police and the bedevilment +of his foes. Why could he not achieve another of +the astounding feats that had made his name +famous? +</p> +<p> +He spurred his wits to furious effort, repeatedly +telling himself that somewhere there must be a way +out. It was hard to believe that a man like Sylvanus +Gage, living in constant danger of a surprise visit +by the police, had not provided himself with an +emergency exit. Despite the failure of the detectives +to find it, there must be a concealed door or secret +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_54'></a>54</span> +passage somewhere, though without doubt it was +hidden in a way worthy of Gage’s foxlike cunning. +</p> +<p> +He ran to the door and shot the bolt. The police +would be forced to break their way in, and this would +give him a few moments’ respite. Again, as several +times before in the last few minutes, his eyes strayed +to the window. Though he knew it was far too +narrow to afford a means of escape, it kept attracting +his gaze and tantalizing his imagination. Deciding +to make a second attempt, he hastened across the +floor, pushed up the lower sash, and edged his +shoulder into the opening. Writhe and wriggle as +he might, he could not squeeze through. Even a +man of Gage’s scrawny build would have become +wedged in the frame had he attempted it. +</p> +<p> +Outside the house a gong clanged, signaling the +arrival of the police patrol. From the front came +sharp commands and excited voices. Already, the +Phantom guessed, a cordon was being thrown around +the block, ensnaring him like a fish in a net. Precious +moments passed, and still he was unable to take his +eyes from the window. A vague and unaccountable +instinct told him that his only hope of safety lay +in that direction. +</p> +<p> +He raised the shade a little and looked out upon +a court disfigured by ramshackle sheds and heaps of +refuse. Several temporary hiding places awaited him +out there, if he could only get through the window. +Even an extra inch or two added to its width would +enable him to wriggle out of the trap. But how—— +</p> +<p> +The answer came to him with sudden, blinding +force. Yet it was simple and obvious enough; in +fact, the only reason he had not thought of it before +was that his mind had been searching for something +more intricate and remote. It had not occurred to +him that the extra inch or two that he needed could +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_55'></a>55</span> +be provided by the simple expedient of dislodging +the window frame. +</p> +<p> +Already his fingers were tearing and tugging at +the woodwork. He noticed that the casements were +thick, so that the removal of the frame would give +him considerable additional space, yet he had been +at work only a few moments when he discovered +that his plan was far more difficult of execution than +he had expected. The frame, at first glance, ill-fitting +and insecurely fastened, resisted all his efforts. +His nails were torn and there were bleeding scratches +on his fingers. He looked about him for something +that he could use as a lever. +</p> +<p> +Someone was trying the lock, then came a loud +pounding on the door. +</p> +<p> +“Open!” commanded a voice. +</p> +<p> +The Phantom, failing to find any implement that +would serve his purpose, inserted his fingers beneath +the sill and tugged with all his strength. +</p> +<p> +“Come and get me!” was the taunt he flung back +over his shoulder. Then he pulled again, but the +sill did not yield. He straightened his body and +attacked the perpendicular frame to the right but +again he encountered nothing but solid resistance. +</p> +<p> +“The game’s up, Phantom,” said the voice outside +the door. “Might as well give in. If you don’t +we’ll bust the door.” +</p> +<p> +The Phantom worked with frantic strength. His +knuckles were bruised, his muscles ached, and sweat +poured from his forehead. +</p> +<p> +“I’ll drill a hole through the first man who enters +this room,” he cried loudly, hoping that the threat +would cause the men outside to hesitate for a few +moments longer before battering down the door. +Then, placing his feet on the sill, he centered his +efforts on the horizontal bar at the top. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_56'></a>56</span> +</p> +<p> +A quick glance through the window revealed a +broad-shouldered man in uniform standing with his +back to a shed. Evidently the cordon was tightening. +Even if he succeeded in getting through the +window, he would have to fight his way through a +human barrier. The outlook was almost hopeless, +but he persisted with the tenacity that comes of despair. +He sprang from the sill, turned the electric +light switch, plunging the room into darkness and +hiding his movements from the eyes of the man outside, +then leaped back to his former position and +tugged frenziedly at the horizontal piece. +</p> +<p> +Of a sudden his hand slipped and a metallic protuberance +scratched his wrist. With habitual attention +to detail, he wound his handkerchief around the +injured surface, stopping the flow of blood. If by a +miracle he should succeed in getting out, he did not +care to leave behind any clews to his movements. +Another sharp glance through the window satisfied +him that the man at the shed was not looking in his +direction. Then he ran his fingers along the horizontal +frame, found the object that had wounded him, +and discovered that it was a nail. +</p> +<p> +The hubbub outside the door had ceased momentarily. +Suddenly there came a loud crash, as if a +heavy body had dashed against the door. The Phantom, +a suspicion awakening amid the jumble of his +racing thoughts, fingered the nail, twisting it hither +and thither. It occurred to him in a twinkling that +it was an odd place for a nail, since it could serve +no apparent purpose. In a calmer moment he would +have thought nothing of it, but his mind was keyed +to that tremendous pitch where minor details are +magnified. +</p> +<p> +Another crash sounded, accompanied by an +ominous squeaking of cracking timber. He bent the +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_57'></a>57</span> +nail to one side, noticing that its resistance to pressure +was elastic, differing from the inert feel of objects +firmly imbedded in solid wood. An inspiration came +to him out of the stress of the moment. He twisted +the nail in various directions, at the same time tugging +energetically at a corner of the frame. +</p> +<p> +Once more a smashing force was hurled against +the door, followed by a portentous, splintering crack. +Quivering with suspense, his mind fixed with desperate +intentness on a dim, tantalizing hope, the +Phantom continued to bend and twist the nail at all +possible angles. He knew that at any moment the +door was likely to collapse, and then—— +</p> +<p> +He uttered a hoarse cry of elation. Of a sudden, +as he bent the nail in a new direction, it gave a +quick rebound, and in the same instant the frame +yielded to his steady pull, as if swinging on a hinge, +revealing an opening in the side of the uncommonly +massive wall. For a moment his discovery dazed +him, then a terrific crash at the door caused him to +pull himself together, and in a moment he had +squeezed his figure into the aperture. +</p> +<p> +He drew a long breath and wiped the blinding, +smarting perspiration from his face. Thanks to an +accidental scratch on the wrist, he had discovered +Sylvanus Gage’s emergency exit. And none too soon, +for already, with a splitting crash, the door had +collapsed under the repeated onslaughts of the men +outside, and several shadowy forms were bursting +headlong into the room. +</p> +<p> +The Phantom, wedged in the narrow opening, +seized the side of the revolving frame and drew it +to. A little click signified that a spring had caught +it and was holding it in place. Excited voices, muffled +by the intervening obstruction, reached his ears. He +smiled as he pictured the consternation of the detectives +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_58'></a>58</span> +upon discovering that once more the Gray +Phantom had lived up to his name and achieved another +of the amazing escapes that had made him +feared and secretly admired by the keenest sleuths in +the country. +</p> +<p> +He had no fear that the police would follow him, +for his discovery of the secret exit had been partly +accidental and partly due to the accelerated nimbleness +of mind that comes to one laboring under +tremendous pressure. To the police the nail on the +top of the window frame would be nothing but a +nail. It is the hunted, not the hunter, whose mind +clutches at straws, and they would never guess that +the nail was a lever in disguise. The Phantom, as +he contemplated the ingenious arrangement, found +his respect for the dead man’s inventiveness rising +several notches. +</p> +<p> +From the other side of the wall came loud curses, +mingling with dazed exclamations, baffled shouts and +expressions of incredulity. With a laugh at the discomfiture +of his pursuers, who but a few moments +ago had thought him inextricably trapped, the Phantom +moved a little farther into the opening. It +appeared to be slanting slowly into the ground, and +it was so narrow that each wriggling and writhing +movement bruised some portion of his body. Inch +by inch he worked his way downward, wondering +whither the passage might lead. Now the voices in +the room were almost beyond earshot, and he could +hear nothing but a low, confused din. +</p> +<p> +Presently he felt solid ground at his feet, and at +this point the passage turned in a horizontal direction. +There was a slight current of dank air in the +tunnel, suggesting that its opposite terminus might +be a cellar or other subterranean compartment. +Limbs aching, he moved forward, with slow twists +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_59'></a>59</span> +and coilings of the body. He estimated that he had +already covered half a dozen yards, and he wondered +how much farther the passage might reach. One +thing puzzled him as he writhed onward. Why had +Gage not made use of the secret exit on the night of +the murder? Was it, perhaps, because the murderer +had come upon him so suddenly that he had not +had time to reach the hidden opening? +</p> +<p> +He dismissed the question as too speculative. A +few more twists and jerks, and he found himself in +an open space where he could stand upright and +move about freely. For a few moments he fumbled +around in the inky darkness, finally encountering a +stairway. He ascended as quietly as he could, taking +pains that the squeakings of the decaying stairs +should not disturb the occupants above. Reaching +the top, he listened intently while his hand searched +for a doorknob. Slowly and with infinite caution +he pushed the door open. Again he stopped and +listened. The room was dark and still, and he could +distinguish no objects, yet his alert mind sensed a +presence, and he felt a pair of sharp eyes gazing at +him through the shadows. +</p> +<p> +Then, out of the gloom and silence came a voice: +</p> +<p> +“Don’t move!” +</p> +<p> +The words were a bit theatrical, but the voice +caused him to start sharply. A few paces ahead of +him he saw a blurry shape. His hand darted to his +hip pocket; then he remembered that he had left +his pistol in the grip at his hotel, for when he started +out he had not expected that his enterprise would +so soon take a critical turn. +</p> +<p> +“Hold up your hands,” commanded the voice, and +again an odd quiver shot through the Phantom. +</p> +<p> +Nonchalantly he found his case and thrust a +cigarette between his lips. Then he struck a match, +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_60'></a>60</span> +advanced a few paces, gazed sharply ahead as the +fluttering flame illuminated the scene, and came to a +dead stop. +</p> +<p> +He was looking straight into the muzzle of a +pistol, and directly behind the bluishly gleaming +barrel he saw the face of Helen Hardwick. +</p> +<h2><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_61'></a>61</span>CHAPTER VII—DOCTOR BIMBLE’S LABORATORY</h2> +<p> +She was the last person the Gray Phantom had +expected to see at that moment, and this was +the last place where he would have dreamed of +finding her. He stared into her face until the flame +of the match bit his fingers. +</p> +<p> +“You!” He dropped the stub and trampled it +under his foot. She stood rigid in the shadows, and +the wan glint of the pistol barrel told that she was +still pointing the weapon at him. Her breath came +fast, with little soblike gasps, as if she were trying +to stifle a violent emotion. +</p> +<p> +“How did you get here?” she demanded, her voice +scarcely above a whisper. +</p> +<p> +“By a tight squeeze,” he said lightly. “I must be +a sight.” +</p> +<p> +“You came through the—tunnel?” +</p> +<p> +“I did as a matter of fact, though I don’t see +how you guessed it.” +</p> +<p> +Staring at her through the dusk, the Phantom was +conscious that his statement had exerted a profound +effect upon her. She drew a long breath, and her +figure, scarcely distinguishable in the gloom, seemed +to shrink away from him. +</p> +<p> +“Oh!” she exclaimed, an odd throb in her voice. +“Then you did it!” +</p> +<p> +“Did what?” +</p> +<p> +“Murdered Sylvanus Gage.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_62'></a>62</span> +</p> +<p> +The Phantom shook his head. “You deduce I +am a murderer from the fact that I got here through +a tunnel. Well, that may be very good feminine +logic, but——” +</p> +<p> +“It is excellent logic, my friend,” interrupted a +voice somewhere in the darkness; and in the same +moment there came a click, and a bright electric light +flooded the scene. The Phantom had a brief glimpse +of a ludicrous little man with an oversized head, a +round protuberance of stomach, and short, thin legs +encased in tightly fitting trousers; then he turned +to Helen Hardwick and gazed intently into her large, +misty-bright eyes. +</p> +<p> +“Oh, they’re brown, I see,” he murmured. “I +had a notion they were either blue or gray. Queer +how one forgets.” +</p> +<p> +The girl looked as though utterly unable to understand +his levity, for as such she evidently construed +his remark. The thin-legged man stepped away from +the door through which he had entered and +approached them slowly, giving the Phantom a +gravely appraising look over the rims of his glasses. +The Phantom had eyes only for Helen Hardwick. +He studied her closely, almost reverentially, noticing +that her eyes, which upon his entrance had been +steady and cool, were now strangely agitated, radiating +a dread that seemed to dominate her entire being. +The hand that clutched the pistol trembled a trifle, +and there were signs of an extreme tension in the +poise of the strong, slender figure, in the quivering +nostrils, and in the pallor that suffused the smooth +oval of her face. +</p> +<p> +“Remarkable!” murmured the spectacled individual, +drawing a few steps closer to obtain a clearer +view of the Phantom. “The young lady and myself +are covering you with our pistols, and yet you exhibit +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_63'></a>63</span> +no fear whatever. Most remarkable! May I feel +your pulse, sir?” +</p> +<p> +The Phantom’s lips twitched at the corners as he +looked at the speaker. The latter’s automatic, +pointed at a somewhat indefinite part of the Phantom’s +body, seemed ludicrously large in contrast with +the slight stature of the man himself. +</p> +<p> +“My name, sir,” declared the little man with an +air of vast importance, “is Doctor Tyson Bimble. +You may have heard of me. I have written several +treatises on the subject of criminal anthropology, and +my professional services have occasionally been enlisted +by the police. Not that such work interests +me,” he added quickly. “The solution of crime +mysteries and the capture of criminals are the pastimes +of inferior minds. As a man of science, I am +interested solely in the criminal himself, his mental +and physical characteristics and the congenital traits +that distinguish him. Again I ask you if I may feel +your pulse.” +</p> +<p> +Smiling, the Phantom extended his hand. Admonishing +Miss Hardwick to keep a steady aim, +Doctor Bimble pocketed his own weapon and took +out his watch. +</p> +<p> +“Perfectly normal,” he declared when the examination +was finished. “At first I thought that at least +a part of your superb coolness was simulated. It is +all the more remarkable in view of the fact that at +this very moment you are surrounded on all sides by +the police. They have thrown a cordon around the +block and every house is being systematically +searched.” +</p> +<p> +The Phantom stiffened. His abrupt and unexpected +meeting with Helen Hardwick had momentarily +blunted his sense of caution, causing him to +forget that he was still in imminent danger. He +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_64'></a>64</span> +threw her a quick glance noticing a look of alarm +in her face. He made a rapid appraisal of the situation. +His flight through the tunnel could not have +taken him more than twelve or fifteen yards from +the rear of the Gage establishment, and he was almost +certain that the passage had extended in a +straight southerly direction. Consequently the place +in which he now found himself must be one of the +shed-like structures he had seen from the window +of Gage’s bedroom. +</p> +<p> +His eyes opened wide as he looked around. Whatever +the place might look like from the outside, the +interior certainly did not have the appearance of a +shed. It was a strange setting, and it seemed all the +stranger because he had found Helen Hardwick in it. +At one end was a long bench covered with bottles, +glass jars, tubes, and a queer-looking assortment of +chemical apparatus. The walls were lined with rows +of tall cabinets with glass doors, each containing a +skeleton, and above these was a frieze of photographs +and X-ray prints in black frames. +</p> +<p> +He wondered how Miss Hardwick happened to +be in such strange surroundings. Her large, long-lashed +eyes avoided him, and her right hand, +cramped about the handle of the pistol, wavered a +trifle. She had changed since their last meeting, +he noticed. She had seemed half child and half +woman then, a vivacious young creature with a mixture +of reckless audacity, demure wistfulness and +adorable shyness whose bewildering contradictions +had enhanced a loveliness that had gone to the Phantom’s +head like foaming wine. In the course of a +few months she had acquired the subtle and indefinable +something that differentiates girlhood from +womanhood. Her face—he had liked to think of +it as heart-shaped—had sobered a little, and the +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_65'></a>65</span> +graceful lines of chin and throat seemed firmer. +Faintly penciled shadows at the corners of her lips +hinted that a touch of somberness had crept into her +mood, but even such a trifling detail as a few wisps +of loosened hair dangling sportively against her +cheeks seemed to go a long way toward upsetting +this effect. +</p> +<p> +Doctor Bimble’s thin and rasping voice startled +the Phantom out of his reverie. +</p> +<p> +“My laboratory, sir,” he explained with a comprehensive +wave of the hand. “What you see here +is probably the most remarkable collection of its kind +in the world. Each of these skeletons represents a +distinct criminal type. Here, for instance are the +bones of Raschenell, the famous apache. They are +supposed to be buried in a cemetery in Paris, but +a certain French official for whom I once did a favor +was obliging. In my private rogues’ gallery you see +photographs of some of the most notorious criminals +the world has ever known, and these X-ray pictures +illustrate various pathological conditions usually +associated with criminal tendencies. Quite remarkable, +you will admit.” +</p> +<p> + “Quite,” said the Phantom a little absently, as if +his mind were occupied with more pressing matters +than the bones of notorious malefactors. +</p> +<p> +“You may feel perfectly at ease, my friend.” The +little doctor, noticing the Phantom’s abstraction, +spoke soothingly. “I think I have already made it +clear that the pursuit and capture of criminals don’t +interest me. Without doubt we shall arrive at some +amicable understanding that will insure your safety.” +</p> +<p> +“Understanding?” echoed the Phantom, having +detected a slight but significant emphasis on the +word. +</p> +<p> +“Yes; why not? You have interested me for some +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_66'></a>66</span> +time, Mr.—ahem. Let me see—I believe your real +name is Cuthbert Vanardy?” +</p> +<p> +The Phantom nodded. +</p> +<p> +“Making due allowance for the exaggerations of +stupid newspaper writers, I have long recognized that +you are a remarkable individual. Yes, remarkable. +You do not belong to any of the types mentioned +by Prichard, Pinel, and Lombroso, but you are a type +of your own. Naturally you arouse my scientific +curiosity. Nothing would please me more than to +add you to my collection.” +</p> +<p> +The Phantom glanced at the grisly contents of +the cabinets. A serio-comic grin wrinkled his face. +“Aren’t you a bit hasty, doctor? I am not dead yet, +you know.” +</p> +<p> +“True—quite true. But a man like you leads a +precarious existence. If he doesn’t break his neck +in some rash adventure the electric chair is always a +menacing possibility. The chances are that I shall +outlive you by a score of years. Promise that you +will give the matter due consideration.” +</p> +<p> +The Phantom blinked his eyes. Doctor Bimble +seemed amiable enough, yet the man was scarcely +human. His whole being was wrapped up in his +science and his entire world was composed of anthropological +specimens and fine-spun theories. +</p> +<p> +“You wish me to make arrangements to have my +body turned over to you after my death?” +</p> +<p> +“Precisely, Mr. Vanardy. That is what my friend +and neighbor, Sylvanus Gage, did. An inferior +personality, yet he had his points of interest. I am +obliged to you for hastening his demise.” +</p> +<p> +A tremulous gasp sounded in the room. The +Phantom turned, and his brow clouded as he noticed +the expression of anguish that had crossed Helen’s +face at the doctor’s words. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_67'></a>67</span> +</p> +<p> +“You’re mistaken, Bimble,” he declared sharply; +“I didn’t kill Gage. If I had done so, I should +scarcely be here at the present moment.” +</p> +<p> +Doctor Bimble shrugged his shoulders. “The +matter is of little consequence, my dear sir. Whether +or not you killed Gage is not of the slightest interest +to me. However,” with a significant glance at +Vanardy’s mud-streaked clothing and begrimed features, +“I am strongly of the opinion that you did. +The only thing that perplexes me is that you are +taking the trouble to deny it. Did I hear you say +that you came here through the tunnel?” +</p> +<p> +“I did.” As he spoke the two words, the Phantom +felt Helen’s eyes searching his face. +</p> +<p> +“Enough.” The anthropologist made a gesture +expressive of finality. “Your admission that you +came through the tunnel is an admission that you +killed Gage. I perceive you do not follow me. Well, +then, the circumstances of the crime prove conclusively +that it was committed by someone who was +aware of the existence of the tunnel. What the +foolish newspapers refer to as astounding and +miraculous is simplicity itself. The murderer entered +Gage’s bedchamber by way of the underground passage +and made his escape by the same route. Nothing +could be simpler.” +</p> +<p> +The Phantom laughed mirthlessly. The doctor’s +theory, though at first glance shallow and far-fetched, +impressed him uncomfortably, instilling in his mind +an idea that had not occurred to him until now. +Helen, standing a few paces away, was regarding +him intently. +</p> +<p> +“To-day, I infer, you returned to the scene of +your crime,” continued the doctor, speaking in the +dry tones of one developing a thesis. “Criminals +often do, but why you, a superior type, should exhibit +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_68'></a>68</span> +the same failing is beyond me. Some time in the +near future I shall write a monograph on the subject, +with particular reference to your individual case. +However, the fact remains that you returned to the +scene of your crime. I take it that by some blunder +or careless move you betrayed your presence. At any +rate, you found yourself trapped in Gage’s bedchamber. +What more natural than that, for the +second time within a week, you should use the tunnel +as a means of escape?” +</p> +<p> +The Phantom was silent for a moment. Helen +Hardwick seemed to be searching his soul with eyes +that gave him a distressing impression of doubt, suspicion, +and reproach. +</p> +<p> +“You’re mistaken.” He was addressing the +doctor, but the effect of his words was intended for +the girl. “I went to Gage’s house this afternoon, +hoping to find some clew to the murderer.” +</p> +<p> +“Ah!” The doctor’s chuckle expressed amusement. +“You were acting on the idea that it takes +a crook to catch a crook, I suppose. Go on. Your +ingenious explanations are diverting.” +</p> +<p> +“I found myself cornered,” continued the Phantom, +stifling his resentment. “With the house surrounded +and the police pounding on the door, I had +only a few moments in which to find a way out. I +used the tunnel, but I discovered the opening by +merest accident.” +</p> +<p> +“Impossible—flatly impossible! Yes, I see your +wrist is scratched, but that proves nothing. That +opening, my dear sir, could never have been discovered +by accident.” +</p> +<p> +“You seem to know something about it yourself,” +remarked the Phantom pointedly. +</p> +<p> +“I do,” admitted the anthropologist, with a broad +grin. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_69'></a>69</span> +</p> +<p> +“And the tunnel runs into the cellar of your +house.” +</p> +<p> +“So it does.” The doctor seemed not at all disturbed +by Vanardy’s sharp gaze. “Years ago, when +I was looking for an inconspicuous and out-of-the-way +place in which to pursue my studies in quiet, I +leased the house to which this laboratory forms an +extension. I saw Gage now and then, and the man +interested me. Even before we became confidential +I had noticed phrenological manifestations that +seemed to classify him as belonging to one of the +types described by Lombroso. Step by step I became +familiar with his history and mode of life. I +learned that he was conducting an extensive traffic +in stolen goods, and that he had a broad circle of +acquaintances in the underworld. Gage proved useful, +introducing me to criminals whom I wished to +study at close range, and, in addition to that, the man +himself interested me. I saw traits and peculiarities +in him that were strangely contradictory. And so, +when one day he confided to me that he was living +in constant fear of the police, who were likely to raid +his premises at any time and confiscate his valuables, +I made a proposition to him.” +</p> +<p> +“You offered to help on the condition that he sign +his body over to you for dissecting purposes,” +guessed the Phantom. +</p> +<p> +“Exactly, my friend.” Bimble rubbed his hands +in glee. “I offered to invent an avenue of escape +that would be absolutely safe and proof against detection. +Gage accepted, and I set to work fulfilling +my part of the bargain. The result, if I may bestow +compliments on myself, was a work of genius.” +</p> +<p> +The Phantom gazed in frank astonishment at the +versatile anthropologist. “The police have a nasty +name for that sort of thing,” he observed. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_70'></a>70</span> +</p> +<p> +“The police and I are friends. I help them on +occasions, when the spirit moves me and the case +interests me. And a scientific man, my dear sir, +cannot afford to have moral scruples. The ends of +science justify all other things, even assisting a criminal +to escape. Incidentally I derived a lot of entertainment +out of the planning of the tunnel. In +the first place, the window was purposely built so +small that no one would consider it for a moment +as a possible means of escape. Still less would any +one think of looking for an exit hidden behind the +frame of such a window. You noticed the nail, of +course. A lot of psychology is centered around that +nail.” +</p> +<p> +“So it’s a psychological nail, eh?” The Phantom +looked at the scratch on his wrist. +</p> +<p> +“I knew, from my observations of the workings +of the human mind, that not one person in ten million +would give a second thought to that nail. Even +if, by remote chance, someone should touch it, he +would never suspect that it was a part of a mechanism. +If, by a still remoter chance, he would investigate +more closely, he would not know how to +operate it. So, you see, there is not one chance in a +billion that a stranger would find the tunnel. Do you +blame me for doubting your statement that you +found it by accident?” +</p> +<p> +The Phantom looked at Miss Hardwick. Doctor +Bimble’s explanation seemed to have impressed her +strongly. He did not wonder at this, for he knew +there was logic in the anthropologist’s argument. +Nothing but his firm belief that Gage had provided +himself with an emergency exit of some sort had +prompted the Phantom to give the nail a closer +scrutiny. +</p> +<p> +Doctor Bimble gave him a mildly amused look. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_71'></a>71</span> +</p> +<p> +“You agree with me—don’t you, Vanardy? I think +my logic holds together. Only a person familiar +with the tunnel could have committed the murder. +Conversely, a person betraying a knowledge of the +tunnel is a worthy object of suspicion.” +</p> +<p> +“Haven’t you forgotten something?” The Phantom +suddenly called to mind his own theory of the +crime. “One other person could have committed the +murder without a knowledge of the tunnel.” +</p> +<p> +“Yes, I know,” said the doctor wearily. “You +are thinking of Officer Pinto. The possibility that +he might be the guilty one occurred to me as soon as +I saw the newspaper account, but the probabilities +of the case controverted that view. Officer Pinto is +an honest, dull-witted, conscientious soul—nothing +else. That kind of man doesn’t com——” +</p> +<p> +The jangling of a bell in front of the house interrupted +him. There was a humorous twinkle in his +eyes as he looked at the Phantom over the rims of +his spectacles. Helen inhaled sharply. +</p> +<p> +“The police have come to search the house, I +think,” Doctor Bimble murmured languidly. “My +man Jerome—an estimable fellow, by the way—is +already admitting them. In a few moments they will +be coming this way. Of course, if I tell them that I +have seen nothing of a fugitive, they will go away +without making an extended search.” +</p> +<p> +Vanardy stiffened. His head went up and his eyes +narrowed; then he glanced quizzically at the doctor. +It seemed to him that Bimble had stressed the word +if, as though a condition were implied. +</p> +<p> +“Well, Vanardy?” The anthropologist’s tone +was light and playful. Sounds of distant footfalls +reached their ears. The Phantom’s darting eyes +rested for an instant on one of the skeletons, and in +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_72'></a>72</span> +a twinkling he understood. He laughed shortly, for +the idea impressed him as grotesquely humorous. +</p> +<p> +“I see,” he said quickly. “You’ll say the necessary +word to the police if I agree to dedicate my earthly +remains to your private hall of fame.” +</p> +<p> +“You grasp my meaning exactly. But the time is +short and I sha’n’t press you for a definite promise. +Only give me your word that you will consider the +proposition.” +</p> +<p> +“Very well; I’ll consider it,” promised the Phantom. +“But I warn you that I have no burning ambition +to become a skeleton for some time yet.” +</p> +<p> +A pleased grin wrinkled the doctor’s face. The +footfalls, mingling with gruff voices, were coming +closer, signifying that the searchers were rapidly approaching +the laboratory. +</p> +<p> +“This way, Vanardy.” The doctor beckoned the +Phantom to follow as he started toward the door. +Approaching footsteps caused him to draw back. A +look of bewilderment came into his face. +</p> +<p> +“We have wasted too much time,” he said complainingly; +then, as he looked about the room, his +face brightened. “But this will do for a hiding +place. Better come along, Miss Hardwick. It may +save you embarrassing questions.” +</p> +<p> +He stepped hurriedly to one side of the room, +opened a door and motioned them into a narrow +closet. A moment later they heard a key turn in the +lock. +</p> +<h2><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_73'></a>73</span>CHAPTER VIII—LOGIC VERSUS HEART THROBS</h2> +<p> +A vague misgiving assailed the Phantom as +the door closed. The hiding place chosen for +them by the genial Doctor Bimble seemed not +quite adequate to the emergency. There had been +no time for argument, however, and nothing for the +Phantom to do but follow instructions. The versatile +anthropologist knew best, he had thought, and +very likely the police would take Bimble’s word for +it that nobody was concealed in the laboratory. +</p> +<p> +The closet was so dark that, but for a faint fragrance +and the occasional scraping of a foot, he +might have thought himself alone. From the other +side of the door came subdued sounds, and he pictured +the tubby little doctor protesting against the +intrusion on his sacred privacy. Of Helen he could +see nothing but the pallid glint of her face in the +gloom, but her quick, nervous breathing told him +that she was keyed up to a high tension. There was +a medley of questions in his mind, but he found it +hard to put them into words. +</p> +<p> +“Hel—Miss Hardwick,” he whispered. +</p> +<p> +“Yes?”. +</p> +<p> +“Logic is silly rot.” +</p> +<p> +A moment’s pause. “I don’t believe I understand.” +</p> +<p> +“According to the learned doctor’s logic, I am the +murderer of Sylvanus Gage. He made out quite a +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_74'></a>74</span> +convincing case, and I could see you were impressed. +Yet, deep down in your heart, you know he was talking +piffle. You don’t believe I killed Gage.” +</p> +<p> +She stood silent for a time. He pressed closer to +the wall and fumbled for her hand. It was cold, and +the pulsations at the wrist made him think of a +frightened, fluttering bird. +</p> +<p> +“I wish I could believe you didn’t,” she murmured, +freeing her hand. +</p> +<p> +“Thank you.” Her candor had given him a little +thrill of faint and indefinable hope. “Would it surprise +you very much if I told you that my only +reason for leaving Sea-Glimpse was to convince you +of my innocence?” +</p> +<p> +“Convince <em>me</em>?” She gave a low, incredulous +laugh. “Why?” +</p> +<p> +“I’m not sure I can tell you that. From a practical +point of view it was a foolish move, wasn’t it? +By the way, you knew that the police were hunting +high and low for me. You alone knew where I was +to be found, and yet you didn’t tell. I wonder why.” +</p> +<p> +She meditated for a little; then, in a whisper: “I +don’t know.” +</p> +<p> +He laughed softly. “It seems neither one of us is +very practical. We don’t understand our own motives. +Can you tell me what you are doing in this +gallery of skeletons?” +</p> +<p> +“I am not sure, but I will try. The morning after +the murder of Gage, I read the accounts in all the +papers. I can’t tell you how I felt. It was as if a +great illusion had been shattered. I remember how +I cried one day when I fell and broke my first doll. +My feelings after reading the papers were something +like that, only more poignant.” +</p> +<p> +“I understand,” he murmured. “You had placed +the Gray Phantom on a pedestal. When he fell and +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_75'></a>75</span> +broke to bits, just like common clay, you were disappointed.” +</p> +<p> +“Yes, it was something like that. I had placed +your better self on a pedestal. I didn’t want to believe +it had fallen or that it was just common clay. +I read the papers very carefully; hoping to find a +weak point in the evidence against you, but it seemed +complete and conclusive down to the tiniest detail. +One of the articles puzzled me a little, though.” +</p> +<p> +“Oh—the <em>Sphere’s</em>! Yes, I noticed it, too.” +</p> +<p> +“It read as though the writer were not quite sure +that you were the guilty one. After thinking it over +for a while I called up the <em>Sphere</em> and asked for the +reporter who had written the article. They had +some little trouble finding him, and when he finally +came to the ’phone he acted as if he were not quite +sober. I tried to question him about the case, but +he gruffly told me he had nothing to tell aside from +what he had put into his story. If I had a personal +interest in the matter, he said, the best thing I could +do was go and consult Doctor Bimble.” +</p> +<p> +“And you adopted the suggestion?” +</p> +<p> +“I had never heard of Doctor Bimble, but the +reporter told me he was the cleverest investigator of +criminal cases in town. He warned me that Doctor +Bimble might refuse to help me, since he accepted +nothing but cases of unusual interest, but the fact that +the murdered man was a friend and neighbor might +make a difference. Yesterday I called on the doctor, +but at first he would talk of nothing but his skeletons. +The murder didn’t seem to interest him in the least. +He said the Phantom’s guilt was clear and that all +that remained was to catch him. Then, when he +saw how earnest I was, he told me about the tunnel.” +</p> +<p> +“The doctor is a queer duck,” murmured the +Phantom musingly. “The ordinary man wouldn’t +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_76'></a>76</span> +take strangers into his confidence about such things. +The eccentricity of genius, I suppose.” +</p> +<p> +“The whole affair seemed to bore him immensely. +He told me the man who killed Gage must have used +the tunnel, since he could not have left the room any +other way. He thought it possible the murderer +was still hiding there, lying low until the excitement +should die down, and if I didn’t have anything better +to do I might watch for him at this end. As for +himself, he said he wasn’t at all concerned in the +apprehension and punishment of criminals, but he +gave me his revolver and told me I might watch the +door leading from the laboratory, since the murderer, +if he were still in the tunnel, had to come out +that way. I think my interest in the case amused +the doctor. I suspected he was chuckling at me most +of the time. +</p> +<p> +“I watched the door till late last night, all the time +hoping that, if anyone came out of the tunnel, +it would not be you. Shortly before midnight I persuaded +the doctor to let his man take my place. You +see, if the murderer proved to be anyone but you, I +wanted him caught, because then your innocence +would be established. Early this morning I went +back to my post. When I heard steps on the stairs +my heart stood still for a moment. As the door +opened I felt like shrieking. And then——” +</p> +<p> +She broke off with a gasp. From above came the +sounds of footsteps and doors slamming, indicating +that the police were searching the upper part of the +house. +</p> +<p> +“And when you saw me,” the Phantom put in, +“you immediately jumped to the conclusion that I +was guilty. Well, I suppose it was good logic. What +can I do or say to convince you that I didn’t kill +Gage?” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_77'></a>77</span> +</p> +<p> +“Nothing,” she said, a hysterical catch in her +throat. Of a sudden she seemed cold and distant, +as if realizing that in telling her story she had betrayed +too much of her feelings. “I fear there is +nothing more to be said.” +</p> +<p> +The Phantom drew a deep breath. “I don’t +blame you,” he said gently. “There are several +black chapters in my past. But some day I’ll prove +to you that I had nothing to do with this murder. I +admit that just now the evidence weighs heavily +against me. It is true there was something of a feud +between me and Gage once upon a time and——” +</p> +<p> +“And the threatening letter,” she interrupted. +“Why did you send it if you didn’t mean to kill +him?” +</p> +<p> +“It was a forgery. I never wrote it.” +</p> +<p> +“Handwriting experts say you did.” +</p> +<p> +“I know.” He remembered having read in the +newspapers that three experts had compared the +letter with samples of his handwriting on file in the +bureau of criminal identification, and that two of +them had declared that the Phantom had written it. +“That only goes to show that it was an exceptionally +clever forgery, and experts have been known to +differ before.” +</p> +<p> +“But Gage told the officer that it was you who +stabbed him.” She spoke as if determined to hear +his explanation of the damning bits of evidence even +though every word hurt her. +</p> +<p> +“True enough. But Gage didn’t see me. He had +the threatening letter in mind when he said that.” +</p> +<p> +“Nothing but the Maltese cross was missing, and +you had had a quarrel with Gage about that.” +</p> +<p> +“True, too.” The Phantom chuckled bitterly. +“If I had committed the murder I should have taken +pains to carry away a lot of other things for a blind.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_78'></a>78</span> +She was silent for a few moments. Footsteps +were coming down the stairs, and the Phantom knew +that the searchers would soon be in the laboratory. +Again he found her hand, but she quickly drew it +away. +</p> +<p> +“You knew about the tunnel,” she reminded him, +her shaky accents betraying the struggle going on +within her. +</p> +<p> +“I swear that I found it by accident.” +</p> +<p> +He could not see her face, but he sensed that she +doubted him and that the remnant of faith in her +heart was unable to withstand the corroding effect +of a growing suspicion. The footsteps were drawing +closer, and now they could hear voices outside +the door. He recognized the rasping accents of +Doctor Bimble. +</p> +<p> +“I tell you, my dear sir, that the closet contains +nothing but chemicals which I use in my laboratory +work. Some of them are very valuable. That’s +why I keep them under lock and key.” +</p> +<p> +Tensing every muscle as if preparing for an attack, +the Phantom stepped in front of the girl. She +made no protest as he took her pistol, which she +had been holding all the time and which now hung +limply from her fingers. +</p> +<p> +“I don’t doubt your word,” answered a gruff +voice outside, “but orders are to search everywhere +and make a good job of it. Hate to trouble you, +but it’s got to be done.” +</p> +<p> +The doctor, evidently sparring for time, insisted +that he had been in his laboratory all day and that +nobody could have slipped into the closet unnoticed +by him; but the other was obdurate. +</p> +<p> +“Very well, then,” finally grumbled the anthropologist, +“but I shall make complaint to Inspector +Wadham. Jerome, where are my keys?” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_79'></a>79</span> +Despite the suspense under which he was laboring, +the Phantom grinned. He strongly suspected that +Bimble was working a ruse in order to gain time. +Yet he wondered what the outcome was to be, for +unless the keys were promptly produced the officers +would undoubtedly force the door. +</p> +<p> +His next sensation was one of astonishment. A +curious calm appeared to have fallen over the group +outside, for moment after moment passed without +a word being spoken. The Phantom wondered what +it could mean. It seemed as though the speakers +had been suddenly stricken dumb. After what +seemed a long period of silence, somebody uttered +an exclamation of astonishment, then a laugh +sounded, and next footsteps moved away from the +closet door. A minute or so passed, then someone +fumbled with the lock, and presently the door was +opened by Doctor Bimble. He was smiling blandly, +but the Phantom thought he detected an uneasy +gleam behind the spectacles. +</p> +<p> + “What’s happened?” he inquired, looking about +him dazedly and noticing that the girl and himself +were alone with the doctor. +</p> +<p> +The anthropologist waved a hand toward the +front of the house. “Listen!” +</p> +<p> +From the streets came loud and raucous shouts, +and a blank look crossed the Phantom’s face as he +made out the words: +</p> +<p> +“Uxtra! Gray Phantom capchured! All ’bout +the big pinch! Uxtra!” +</p> +<h2><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_80'></a>80</span>CHAPTER IX—THE PHANTOM IS MYSTIFIED</h2> +<p> +For a time the little group in the laboratory stood +as if turned into inanimate shapes, their senses +under the spell of the hoarse shouts in the +street. The Phantom felt a curious churning in his +head. The anthropologist was still smiling, but the +smile was gradually growing thin and hard. Helen +fixed the Phantom with a stony look. +</p> +<p> +“It appears a mistake of some kind has been +made,” muttered the doctor at length. “It was a +fortunate one for you, my friends, for the officers +were becoming quite insistent. Luckily the cries diverted +their attention from the closet, and they went +away apologizing after telephoning headquarters +and verifying the report.” +</p> +<p> +The Phantom, still feeling Helen’s gaze on his +face, pocketed the pistol he had been holding. The +newsboys’ cries had given him a jolt that left him a +little dazed and caused his mind to turn to trivial +things. He found himself admiring Helen’s simple +little hat and plain but tasteful dress, noticing that +they seemed as much a part of her as her hair and +her complexion. He saw that she tried to be brave +despite a crushing disaster to her illusions, and somehow +he felt sorry for her. +</p> +<p> +Doctor Bimble turned on him with a frown. +</p> +<p> +“Sir,” he demanded, “are you the Gray Phantom +or merely a clumsy impostor?” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_81'></a>81</span> +</p> +<p> +The question seemed so ludicrous that the Phantom +could only chuckle. +</p> +<p> +“It has long been my desire to meet the Gray +Phantom,” pursued the doctor, still scowling darkly. +“I should dislike to think I have been imposed upon. +But that can’t be, unless”—with another suspicious +look—“you are acting as a foil for the Phantom. +Well, we shall see presently, I suppose. In the meantime, +you may consider yourself at home under my +roof.” +</p> +<p> +Without knowing why, the Phantom hesitated +before accepting the invitation. To take advantage +of the doctor’s hospitality was clearly the proper +thing to do. In a little while the police would learn +they had blundered, and then the man hunt would +be resumed with redoubled vigor. To venture forth +on the streets after that would be little short of +madness. The Phantom, conquering his misgivings—which, +after all, were nothing more than a vague +doubt in regard to the doctor—murmured his appreciation. +</p> +<p> +Bimble’s manservant, a lanky, thin-faced individual +with a gloomy expression and wary eye, entered +with a copy of the extras. The Phantom gave +him a quick and keenly searching glance, and again +he felt strangely bewildered. The man looked innocent +enough, and it was nothing but an intangible +something in his gait and his manner of carrying +himself that caused the Phantom to look twice. +</p> +<p> +Doctor Bimble took the damp sheet, still redolent +of ink, and read aloud the triple-leaded article under +the scare head. During the perusal Helen regarded +him with strange, expressionless eyes, while now and +then the servant shot the Phantom a stealthy glance +which the latter found hard to interpret. +</p> +<p> +Evidently the extra had been hurriedly prepared, +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_82'></a>82</span> +for the article contained only a few pithy facts. It +seemed that the Phantom, with an audacity and a +recklessness characteristic of him, had for some unaccountable +purpose visited the East Houston Street +establishment in which the murder of Sylvanus Gage +had been perpetrated. Wearing no other disguise +than a black beard, which he had evidently grown +since his last appearance in public, he had approached +the housekeeper, introduced himself as +Mr. Adair, of Boston, a criminal investigator, and +requested to inspect the scene of the murder. The +unsuspecting housekeeper had admitted him, little +guessing that her visitor was one of the most celebrated +criminals of the age. +</p> +<p> +The Gray Phantom had been in the room only a +few minutes when Officer Joshua Pinto appeared on +the scene. With laudable perspicacity the officer +recognized the Phantom almost immediately, despite +the disguising beard, and by clever maneuvering +managed to lock him in the room, standing guard +outside the door while the housekeeper telephoned +headquarters. In a few moments an impenetrable +cordon had been thrown around the house, and the +capture of the Phantom seemed an absolute certainty. +Yet, when the door was battered down, +the astonished officers saw that the room was empty +and that the notorious rogue had achieved another +of his miraculous escapes. +</p> +<p> +Apparently, so the article stated, the Phantom had +accomplished the impossible, but then the Phantom’s +entire career had been a series of incredible accomplishments. +How he had managed to leave the room +and elude the cordon of police would probably remain +a mystery forever unless the criminal himself +should divulge the secret. His capture, which had +taken place while the police were making a systematic +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_83'></a>83</span> +search of the houses in the block, had been due +to one of the strange aberrations which seize even +the astutest criminals. A brawl had occurred in a +“blind pig” in Bleecker Street, and the commotion +had attracted the attention of a passing sergeant. +After sending in a hurry call for help the sergeant +had raided the place, and among the prisoners taken +was one who was almost instantly recognized as the +Gray Phantom. The identification was rendered all +the easier by the fact that he had removed his beard +after making his sensational escape from the East +Houston Street establishment. The belief was expressed +that the prisoner would be induced to make +a statement as soon as he had recovered from the +effects of the raw whiskey he had consumed in the +dive, presumably in celebration of his latest coup. +</p> +<p> +“Rot!” ejaculated the doctor, throwing the paper +down with a gesture of disgust. “A fool would +know that a man of the Gray Phantom’s temperament, +whatever other folly he might commit, would +not get intoxicated at a critical moment like this. +This proves—But what’s become of Miss Hardwick?” +</p> +<p> +The Phantom looked up with a start. The girl +was gone. Evidently she had taken advantage of +the other’s absorption in the newspaper article to slip +out unnoticed. Jerome, a crestfallen look on his +long face, hastily left the laboratory, returning in a +few moments with the report that Miss Hardwick +was nowhere in sight. The Phantom imagined that +there was an expression of sharp reproach in the +doctor’s eyes as they rested on the servant, but the +impression was fleeting. +</p> +<p> +“The young lady has probably gone home,” ventured +the anthropologist. “She must have been tired, +and in a measure her task was accomplished. The +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_84'></a>84</span> +question is, can you rely on her not to communicate +what she knows to the police?” +</p> +<p> +The Phantom looked a trifle doubtful. He had +perceived that the impulses of her heart had been +swamped by logic. It was possible she had gone +away hating him, firmly convinced he was a murderer, +and in that event her sense of duty might +easily overcome everything else. +</p> +<p> +“Frankly, I don’t know,” he declared. “At any +rate, I am about as safe here as anywhere for the +present. I should like a bath, if I may presume on +your hospitality.” +</p> +<p> +“By all means. And as soon as you have rested +a bit we shall dine. Dear me, it is almost nine +o’clock! Jerome!” +</p> +<p> +He instructed the servant, and the Phantom followed +the silent and soft-footed man to the bathroom. +As he splashed about in the tub, he tried to +forget the bitter ache which Helen’s words had left +in his heart. Her frigid attitude and her abrupt +going away had merely strengthened his determination +to convince her of his innocence. He saw that +he must act quickly and take advantage of the comparative +security which he could enjoy until the +police discovered that they had arrested the wrong +man. +</p> +<p> +His mind was at work on a plan while he hurried +into his clothes, which Jerome had brushed and +pressed while he was in the tub. A question that +troubled him greatly was how far he could safely +take Bimble into his confidence. The sharp-witted +anthropologist, with his keen insight into human +nature, would prove a valuable ally, but the Phantom +felt a great deal of mystification in his presence. +There was something about the man which his senses +could not quite grasp. Likely as not, it was only +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_85'></a>85</span> +the scientific temperament, which gave him an appearance +of secretiveness and dissimulation, but of +this the Phantom could not be sure. +</p> +<p> +The dinner, which he ate in the doctor’s company, +was excellent, and Jerome served them in a faultless +manner, proving that the anthropologist’s devotion +to his science had not blunted his taste for physical +comforts. The host discoursed learnedly and brilliantly +on Lucchini’s theory in regard to the responsibility +of the criminal, and it was not until the servant +had withdrawn and they had reached their coffee +and cigars that he mentioned the subject on the +Phantom’s mind. +</p> +<p> +The dining room, furnished with an approach to +elegance that one would scarcely have expected to +find on such a shabby street, was lighted by a heavily +shaded electrolier. The lights and shadows playing +across Bimble’s face as he gesticulated with his head +gave him an added touch of mystery and accentuated +the general air of inscrutability that hovered about +his person. He broached the subject of Gage’s death +while lighting his cigar. +</p> +<p> +“Come now, Vanardy, let us be confidential. It +was you who murdered Gage. Why deny it?” +</p> +<p> +Smiling faintly, the Phantom shook his head. +</p> +<p> +Bimble regarded him curiously. “The only thing +about the crime that interests me is your denial. But +I think I understand. In some criminals there is an +æsthetic sense which revolts against the vulgar and +sordid. Having, on the impulse of the moment, +committed a sordid crime, your æsthetic sense reasserts +itself, and you want to forget the ugly affair +as quickly as possible. Am I right?” +</p> +<p> +The Phantom laughed. “You clothe the thing in +such attractive phrasing that I almost wish I could +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_86'></a>86</span> +plead guilty. But I didn’t kill Gage, and that’s all +there is to it.” +</p> +<p> +“You still insist that Pinto did?” +</p> +<p> +“Until two or three hours ago I was firmly convinced +of it.” +</p> +<p> +“Ah! Now we are getting down to facts. Until +two or three hours ago you were certain Pinto was +the murderer. Why?” +</p> +<p> +“Because at the time I felt sure that no one else +could have committed the crime. The mysterious +circumstances could be explained in no other way +than on the assumption that Pinto was the perpetrator.” +</p> +<p> +“Exactly. Your logic was not at all bad. But I +infer that within the last three hours you have +changed your mind.” +</p> +<p> +“Not quite; I have merely modified my opinion. I +am no longer positively certain that Pinto committed +the murder.” +</p> +<p> +“Why?” A shrewd grin twisted the anthropologist’s +lips. “What has caused you to modify your +view—the tunnel?” +</p> +<p> +“Yes, the tunnel. The existence of the tunnel +makes it possible for someone other than Pinto to +have committed the murder. It suggests another +hypothesis, in the light of which all the circumstances +are explainable. Without the tunnel I should be +morally certain of Pinto’s guilt; with it in existence I +am no longer sure.” +</p> +<p> +“Bravo, my friend! You are doing very well for +an amateur detective. Your idea is that the murderer +entered Gage’s bedchamber by way of the +tunnel and took his departure the same way. Do +you know,” with a broad grin, “that I thoroughly +agree with you? The only point of difference between +us is the identity of the human mole.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_87'></a>87</span> +</p> +<p> +The Phantom’s face darkened a trifle. “I advanced +the idea only as a hypothesis,” he declared a +little testily, “and as yet I am not at all sure that it +has any value. For instance, in order to reach Gage’s +bedroom by way of the tunnel, the murderer had to +go through your house and get down in the cellar.” +</p> +<p> +“Which could easily be done. Both Jerome and +myself are sound sleepers and the house has no +burglar protection.” +</p> +<p> +“But that isn’t all. After traversing the tunnel, +the murderer had to enter the bedroom. In order +to do so he had to work the mechanism which controls +the revolving window frame. From the inside +of the chamber it is worked by the nail. Can it be +manipulated from the outside as well?” +</p> +<p> +“Dear me!” exclaimed the doctor, almost jumping +out of the chair. “I never thought of that.” +</p> +<p> +The Phantom eyed him keenly, though he seemed +wholly absorbed in contemplation of the salt shaker. +The exclamation, he thought, had not sounded quite +natural. +</p> +<p> +“You invented the contraption,” he pointed out. +“Surely you ought to know whether the mechanism +can be worked by a man approaching the room by +way of the tunnel.” +</p> +<p> +“So I thought. An inventor ought to know the +children of his brain.” He gave a forced chuckle, as +if fencing for time in which to frame an answer. +“The fact of the matter is that the contrivance was +intended to be an emergency exit and nothing else. +The spring by which the mechanism is operated can’t +be reached by a man approaching the room by way +of the tunnel. But that,” with a grin which wrinkled +his whole face, “does not exclude the possibility of +a man getting through by the use of force. For instance, +the frame could be budged by prying.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_88'></a>88</span> +</p> +<p> +“Perhaps. As matters stand, the whole question +hinges on whether the room can be entered from the +tunnel. If it can’t, then it is certain that Pinto committed +the murder. If it can, there is a possibility +that someone else did it, though the preponderance +of evidence still points in Pinto’s direction, for it is +extremely unlikely that the murderer was aware of +the existence of the tunnel. However——” +</p> +<p> +He checked himself, deciding to let the thought +remain unspoken. The anthropologist, having recovered +from his temporary embarrassment, gave a +hearty laugh. +</p> +<p> +“You are incorrigible, my friend. You are willing +to admit almost any theory but the plain and obvious +one, which is that the Gray Phantom committed the +murder. Reminds me of Pinel’s excellent treatise +on the psychology of the criminal. But you must be +tired. Please excuse me while I make a telephone +call.” +</p> +<p> +The Phantom regarded him narrowly as he +trundled from the room and closed the door behind +him. The doctor intrigued and baffled him. He was +almost certain that Bimble had been guilty of equivocation +in regard to the tunnel and the revolving +frame. On the other hand, this and other peculiarities +might be due to an erratic temperament. His +stubborn insistence on the Phantom’s guilt could be +the result of mental laziness and a disinclination to +exert himself over a case which did not interest him. +Yet, after making all due allowances, the Phantom +could not feel wholly at ease. +</p> +<p> +The doctor, smiling placidly and without a sign +of guile in his face, interrupted his reflections. +</p> +<p> +“I’ve just had my friend Inspector Wadhane on +the wire,” he announced. “It has been decided to +let the prisoner sleep off the effects of his debauch. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_89'></a>89</span> +He will not be questioned until along toward morning. +So, my friend, you can sleep in peace. Shall +I show you to your room?” +</p> +<p> +The Phantom, blinking his eyes drowsily, expressed +a desire to retire at once. Doctor Bimble +conducted him to a pleasant bedroom with two large +windows facing the street, saw that everything was +in order, and wished his guest a hearty good night. +Even before he was out of the room the Phantom +had started to remove his clothes. +</p> +<p> +Yet, no sooner had the door closed than he hurried +back into the garments. Though only a few moments +ago he had showed signs of great drowsiness, +he was now fully awake, and his springy motions +and the twinkle in his eyes hinted that sleep was +farthest from his mind. +</p> +<h2><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_90'></a>90</span>CHAPTER X—IN THE TUNNEL</h2> +<p> +The Phantom waited for fifteen minutes, then +he quietly opened the door and looked down +the hall. The lights were turned low and not +a sound broke the stillness. Apparently the anthropologist +and the manservant had retired. Stepping +inside the room, he took from an inside pocket the +little metal box he always carried, examined the +snugly packed tools it contained, and made sure that +each was in good condition. Finally, he switched +off the light, noiselessly closed the door behind him, +and tiptoed down the stairs. +</p> +<p> +Stealing down a corridor through the main part +of the house, he reached the extension formed by +the laboratory. He stopped at the door, tilted his +ear to the keyhole, and listened carefully. It had +occurred to him that Doctor Bimble might be at +work, and an encounter with his host would have +proved embarrassing. His keen ears detected no +sounds, however, and in another moment he had +passed through the door and was groping his way +across the floor of the laboratory. +</p> +<p> +Of a sudden he stopped. A faint sound seemed +to come from the direction where the skeletons stood +in their glass-framed cages. He strained his ears to +catch a repetition, but none came. Evidently he had +been mistaken. He knew how sounds are magnified +at night, and what he had heard was probably nothing +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_91'></a>91</span> +but the rattling of a windowpane or the creaking +of a board under his foot. He proceeded to the +opposite wall, darting swift glances to left and right, +as if half suspecting that someone was lurking in +the shadows. Again a door swung noiselessly on its +hinges, and the Phantom glided down the stairs +leading to the cellar. From his hip pocket he took +a small electric flash and let its beam play over the +floor while he looked for the entrance to the tunnel. +</p> +<p> +For a time he searched in vain, traversing the +length of the murky brick walls and carefully scanning +each square foot of space without finding a +trace of the opening. The mouth of the passage +seemed to have disappeared in the three or four +hours that had passed since he emerged from the +subterranean tube. He tried to locate it by tracing +backward the course he had followed in reaching the +stairs, but it proved a difficult task, for he had floundered +about in total darkness, not daring to use his +flash for fear of attracting attention. He had a hazy +impression, however, that the opening was in a diagonal +line with the foot of the stairway. +</p> +<p> +The gleam of his flash leaped over the grimy +bricks, and presently he detected a narrow fissure in +the wall. It extended in a quadrangular course and +was barely wide enough to admit a match or a nail. +Inserting one of the sharp-nosed tools from his +metal case, he pried outward, and a narrow portion +of the wall swung open. He saw now that the little +fissures constituted the boundaries of a door. It was +composed of bricks threaded on iron rods and resembling +in color and general appearance those in +the surrounding wall, and it was so deftly concealed +that only a careful search would reveal its existence. +Evidently it had stood open when the Phantom +crawled out of the tunnel, which explained why he +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_92'></a>92</span> +had not noticed it. He suspected that the thoughtful +anthropologist, not caring to have too many outsiders +discover the tunnel, had closed it while the officers +were searching the front of the house. +</p> +<p> +The Phantom waited for a few minutes while a +little of the dank air in the cellar found its way into +the passage. He did not relish the task ahead of +him, but he was determined to settle a point on which +the doctor had been singularly evasive. The problem +he had set out to solve would be simplified to +a great extent, and he would save himself needless +efforts and loss of valuable time by ascertaining +whether the bedchamber of the late Sylvanus Gage +could be entered by way of the tunnel. +</p> +<p> +Having buttoned his coat tightly and made certain +that his instrument case was within easy reach, +he inserted head and shoulders in the opening and +began the weary crawl toward the other end. His +progress was painfully slow, and the smell of the +moist earth gave him a sense of oppression which +he found hard to shake off. The air, dank and insufficient, +was almost stifling, and the walls of the +narrow passage, bruising his body at each twist and +turn, seemed to exude a sepulchral atmosphere that +insinuated itself into body and mind. +</p> +<p> +At length he reached the point where the tunnel +slanted upward into the wall, and here his progress +became even more difficult. Time and again he +slipped, and he could maintain a footing only by +bracing the tips of his shoes against rough spots +along the sides. He was puffing from exertion when +finally he struck a solid obstruction which told him +he had reached the end of the passage. +</p> +<p> +Finding a precarious foothold, he took out his +flash and closely scrutinized his surroundings. On +two sides were walls of brick, while directly in front +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_93'></a>93</span> +of him was the flank of the window frame. He +pushed against the latter with all his strength, but it +presented a firm and solid resistance to his efforts. +Next he went over it inch by inch, looking for a +hidden lever or spring, but the most careful search +revealed nothing that suggested a means of operating +the mechanism. Finally he took out one of his tools +and, inserting it in the tiny rift between the wall and +the edge of the frame, began to pry steadily. After +several minutes of constant effort he gave up the +task as hopeless. +</p> +<p> +He leaned back against the wall and bent the full +force of his wits to the task of finding a way through +the obstruction. Evidently there was none. He had +tapped every inch of the surface and looked everywhere +for a concealed knob or wire by which the +mechanism might be operated. A larger and heavier +tool than the instrument in his metal case would +have been of no avail, for in those narrow quarters +he could not have obtained leverage. His search, +though thorough and infinitely painstaking, had +netted nothing. +</p> +<p> +The conclusion was clear. The revolving door +could not be operated from the outside; hence the +murderer of Sylvanus Gage could not have entered +the room through the tunnel. Again the Phantom’s +mind reverted to the inevitable deduction that no one +but Officer Pinto could have committed the crime. +</p> +<p> +His lungs, which had been straining for air for +the last quarter of an hour, felt as though they were +on the point of bursting, and he was about to release +his foothold and start back through the tunnel when +a faint tapping sound caught his ears. He could +not tell how long it had been going on, for until now +his whole attention had been focused on the problem +before him. For all he knew it might just have begun, +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_94'></a>94</span> +or it might have started long before he entered +the tunnel. +</p> +<p> +He pressed his ear against the side of the frame +and listened. The sounds, quick and sharp, were +coming in rapid succession, and at first he wondered +whether someone was trying to attract his attention. +Then he noticed that the sounds skipped and jumped, +as if the tapping covered a considerable area, and his +next surmise was that the person on the other side +was making a systematic search for something. +</p> +<p> +“For what?” he wondered; and in the next moment +the answer flashed through his mind. He remembered +how, while he was imprisoned in the bedroom, +momentarily expecting the police to force the +door and pounce upon him, he had looked to the +window as the only possible means of escape, and +how finally he had discovered the nail that proved his +salvation. Evidently the person on the other side +was now doing the very thing the Phantom himself +had been doing a few hours ago. +</p> +<p> +But who could it be? As far as he knew, no one +but Helen, Doctor Bimble and himself was aware +of the existence of the revolving door, and the tunnel. +It did not seem likely that anyone should be searching +at random for an opening. And who could be +prowling about the Gage house at such an hour? +Again he put his ear to the frame. The tapping had +ceased, but now he heard another and different sound +that caused him to quiver with excitement. A slight +metallic noise, like that produced by the contact of +two objects of steel, told him that the person on the +inside had found the nail. +</p> +<p> +In a twinkling he had forgotten his cramped position, +the dank air and the sickening smell of moist +earth. All his senses were centered on the sounds +coming from the other side, so slight that his keen +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_95'></a>95</span> +ears could scarcely detect them. Something told him +that in a few minutes he would make a discovery +of tremendous importance in relation to the +Gage murder mystery. Everything depended upon +whether the person on the other side would give the +nail the proper twist. +</p> +<p> +Minutes dragged by on leaden feet. The Phantom +felt his heart pound chokingly against his ribs, +its loud beats almost drowning the slight metallic +sounds coming from the other side. After what +seemed hours of nerve-racking suspense, a sharp and +sudden click caused him to start violently, and he almost +lost his insecure footing. +</p> +<p> +Then the window frame began to turn. A glare +of light struck his eyes as the opening wedge widened. +With great, eager gulps he drank in the air coming +from the aperture. A minute passed, and then a +face, strained and ashen, was thrust into the opening. +</p> +<p> +It was Mrs. Trippe, the housekeeper. For an instant +she stared into the Phantom’s startled eyes. +</p> +<p> +“He’s killing me!” she cried. “He’s afraid I’ll +tell! He locked me in——” +</p> +<p> +She jerked her head to one side. Slight though +she was, she almost filled the narrow opening, and +he could see only a small strip of the room at her +back. Suddenly a shiver coursed down her spine. A +hand was projected beyond the wall, and he caught a +glimpse of steel flashing in the light. Then, in quick +succession, came a scream and a thud, and the woman +slid from the window sill. +</p> +<p> +It had happened so quickly that the Phantom had +not time to utter a word or raise a hand. Now, before +he could move a muscle, the window frame +slammed shut. He heard a click, signifying that the +frame was caught in the steel clutches of the mechanism. +He pressed his shoulders against it, but to +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_96'></a>96</span> +no avail, and he knew from his previous attempt that +the effort was useless. Filled with horror at what he +had just seen, he slid down the incline between the +walls and began to work back toward the cellar. +</p> +<p> +Finally, after endless jerks and twistings, he +reached the end of the tunnel—and there a fresh +shock awaited him. His feet brought up against a +solid obstruction. Shove against it as he might, the +little door would not yield to his frenzied pressure. +For a little he laid still on his back, thinking. His +mind was heavy and his thoughts flitted about in +circles, but finally it came to him that while he was +at the other end of the tunnel someone must have +placed a heavy weight against the door. +</p> +<p> +He was trapped. +</p> +<h2><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_97'></a>97</span>CHAPTER XI—A BLOW FROM BEHIND</h2> +<p> +Only one thought stood out clearly in the Phantom’s +mind as he lay on his back in the tunnel +breathing the suffocating fumes of the damp +earth, and surrounded by a silence and a darkness +so profound that he felt as if a vast void was separating +him from the world of the living. His senses +were numbed and his brain had ceased to function, +but somehow his mind grasped the realization that +this was the end of the Gray Phantom’s career. +</p> +<p> +The fate awaiting him seemed as inexorable as the +darkness that surrounded him. He had faced great +dangers and had found himself in fearful predicaments +before, but never had death appeared as +certain and inevitable as now. Through his dazed +consciousness filtered a resolution to meet death, even +in this hideous form, with the same unconcern and +stoicism with which he had accepted the favors +destiny had strewn in his path. The thought brought +a feeble smile to his lips, and he hoped the end would +come before the thought faded away. He wanted +the world in general and Helen Hardwick in particular +to know he had died smiling. +</p> +<p> +Something, he did not know what, stirred faintly +in his mind. Instinctively his thoughts groped for a +memory that seemed dim and far away, a memory +that caused his body to vibrate with a reawakening +desire to live. Slowly, out of the whirling chaos in +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_98'></a>98</span> +his mind, it came to him. He could not—must not—die! +He could not pass out into oblivion with a +foul crime staining his name. He must live in order +to revive and vindicate the faith Helen Hardwick +had once reposed in him. +</p> +<p> +The resolve buoyed him a little, causing his body +to throb with a renascent life impulse. Already his +mind felt a little clearer, and his nerves and sinews +were beginning to respond to the driving force of his +will. If his parched lungs could only get a little air! +</p> +<p> +Again he placed his feet against the door and +pushed with all the strength he could summon. He +might as well have tried to dislodge a mountain. The +implements in his pocket case had helped him +out of many a tight dilemma in the past, but they +were of no avail now. He still had the pistol he had +taken from Helen’s hand while they stood in the +closet, and for an instant it occurred to him that the +report of a shot might penetrate the roof of the tunnel +and bring him assistance. A moment later he +reconsidered bitterly. If the shot were heard, it +would more likely bring the police; besides, the fumes +released by the explosion might smother him to death +in a few minutes. +</p> +<p> +With a great effort he crawled away from the door +thinking the air might be not so stifling toward the +center of the tunnel. He moved only two or three +paces when the terrific pounding of his heart and the +protest of his tortured lungs forced him to lie still and +rest. For several minutes he lay motionless, save for +the heaving of his chest, matching his wits against +the hardest problem he had ever faced. +</p> +<p> +Of a sudden something chill and wet fell upon his +face. It was a mere drop of moisture, but it felt like +ice to his parched skin, causing every nerve to quiver. +The contact acted like an electric stimulant on his +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_99'></a>99</span> +mind. He lay rigid, expectant, wondering why the +trivial occurrence should affect him so strangely, and +presently another drop of moisture splashed against +his forehead, sending an icy shiver down his spine. +</p> +<p> +Suddenly he jerked up his head, striking it against +the roof of the tunnel. In a twinkling he had grasped +the significance of the dropping moisture. There +must be a leak in the vault of the passage, and the +soil above was probably soft and porous, enabling +the tiny globules of water to percolate. +</p> +<p> +The deduction jolted the last remnant of stupor +out of his body. He was still weak, but the play of +his wits kindled his nervous energy. He ran his +hand along the roof, locating the point where the +moisture was seeping through. The arched vault +was supported by boards running in a longitudinal +direction and braced at intervals by diagonal props. +He gave a hoarse shout of elation as he noticed that +the boards were rotting from infiltration of moisture. +</p> +<p> +He had forgotten the agonized straining of his +lungs for air. His exploring fingers found a point +where the ends of two boards came together. Taking +a tool from the metal case, he inserted it in the +joint and pried. After a few vigorous wrenches the +board bent downward. Now he gripped its edges +with his fingers and, lifting himself from the floor +of the tunnel, forced it down by the sheer weight of +his body. It snapped, and he pushed it down the +passage, then attacked the next board. It gave more +easily than the first, and now he began to claw and +scratch his way through the damp earth. Remembering +the length of the incline at the farther end of the +passage, he judged that the layer of soil could not be +more than four or five feet deep. +</p> +<p> +More than once he felt on the point of utter exhaustion, +but the prospect of ultimate release fortified +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_100'></a>100</span> +him. Clump after clump of dirt fell at his feet, and +now and then he struck a stratum of gravelly soil +that yielded more easily to his efforts. From time +to time he had to stop digging and brush aside the +accumulation at his feet. A wall of dirt was gradually +forming on each side of him, cutting down the +scant supply of humid air that had so far sustained +him, but he kept at his work with the frenzied persistence +of one battling for his life. There was a dull +roaring in his head and a burning torment in his +lungs, and there came moments of despair when he +wondered whether his strength would last until he +had clawed through the remaining layer of earth. +</p> +<p> +Then, after what seemed hours of agonizing toil, +a cascade of small stones and loose dirt tumbled +down over his head and shoulders. Momentarily +blinded, he could scarcely realize that his hand had +thrust through the obstruction and was now clutching +at empty air. +</p> +<p> +The suspense over, he felt suddenly limp and shaky. +His legs doubled up under him and he sank back +against the wall of the tunnel, greedily sucking in the +fresh air that poured down through the opening. +For a time he was content to do nothing but rest his +racked limbs and drink in huge lungfuls of air. +</p> +<p> +Through the rift overhead he caught a glimpse of +leaden sky. A myriad of strident noises told that +the city was awakening. The discordant sounds were +like jubilant music in his ears, for a while ago he had +thought he would never see the light of another day. +After his terrifying experience in the subterranean +passage it was hard to realize that he was again one +of the living. He struggled to his feet, lurched +dizzily hither and thither, and rubbed the dirt out of +his eyes. Then, steadying himself with one hand, +he cautiously pushed his head through the opening. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_101'></a>101</span> +No one being in sight, he scrambled to the surface. +</p> +<p> +He stood in the center of the narrow space between +Doctor Bimble’s laboratory and the rear of +the Gage establishment. On the other sides of the +inclosure were a squatty structure that might have +been a laundry and a slightly taller building that, +judging from the barrels and boxes piled against the +wall, was probably a grocery. Evidently the stores +and shops had not yet opened, for there was no sign +of life in either direction. +</p> +<p> +The Phantom took a few steps forward, then +stopped abruptly, his eyes fixed on the small window +in the rear of the cigar store. A recollection sent +a shiver through his body. He remembered the +hand that had appeared so suddenly in the narrow +opening, the swift, murderous stroke and the groan +that had died so quickly. There was an air of peace +and tranquillity about the building that struck him as +weirdly incongruous, in view of the scene that had +been enacted within. +</p> +<p> +He was about to turn away when a quick, light +step sounded behind him. Before he could move, +two sinewy hands had gripped him about the throat, +forcing him down. He tried to resist, but he was +still too weak to exert much physical effort. A sickeningly +sweetish smell assailed his nostrils, he felt +his body grow limp, there was a roaring in his head +that sounded like a distant waterfall, and then he +had a sensation of sinking—sinking. +</p> +<h2><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_102'></a>102</span>CHAPTER XII—THE PHANTOM HAS AN INSPIRATION</h2> +<p> +“Remarkable, sir; most remarkable! May +I feel your pulse?” +</p> +<p> +The Gray Phantom knew, even before he +opened his eyes, that the speaker was Doctor Tyson +Bimble. He was lying in bed, undressed, in the same +room his host had assigned him the night before. +The lights were on, so he must have slept through +the day, and he felt correspondingly refreshed. +</p> +<p> +The anthropologist, sitting in a chair beside the +bed, was timing his pulse beats. The doctor’s thin +legs were wrapped in the same tight trousers he had +worn on their first meeting, and an acid-stained coat +was tightly buttoned across his plump stomach. +</p> +<p> +“Normal,” he declared admiringly, pocketing his +watch. “You possess extraordinary recuperative +powers, my friend. What a constitution!” +</p> +<p> +The Phantom’s lips tightened. Scraps of recollection +were coming to him. He gazed narrowly +into the doctor’s guileless face. +</p> +<p> +“A little chloroform goes a long way even with a +constitution like mine,” he remarked pointedly. +</p> +<p> +“Ah, but you were utterly exhausted, my friend. +Otherwise my excellent Jerome would not have had +quite such an easy time with you. A little strong-arm +play and a whiff or two of chloroform were all +that was necessary. The effect soon wore off, and +you lapsed into a natural and invigorating sleep.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_103'></a>103</span> +</p> +<p> +“So, it was Jerome. I guessed as much.” The +Phantom looked perplexedly at the doctor. “But +wasn’t it a rather rough way of putting a man to +bed?” +</p> +<p> +“It was the only safe way of dealing with an impulsive +and strong-headed man like you. But for +the timely appearance of my admirable Jerome, you +would undoubtedly have walked straight into the +arms of the police.” +</p> +<p> +The argument sounded plausible enough. The +Phantom realized that the reaction following his +escape from the tunnel might have caused him to do +several foolish things. +</p> +<p> +An astute grin creased the doctor’s face. “Even +the Gray Phantom is at times very transparent. Last +night, when you started removing your clothes in my +presence, I knew that you had no intention of going +to bed. However, I reasoned that you were an intelligent +man and could be trusted to take care of +yourself. I woke up at an early hour this morning +and stepped to your door. You had not returned. +Greatly alarmed, I told Jerome to look for you. +The estimable fellow found you shortly after you +had dug your way out of the tunnel. You ought to +feel deeply indebted to him, sir.” +</p> +<p> +“I do,” with a faint trace of sarcasm. “But I +should like to wring the neck of the practical joker +who blockaded this end of the passage while I was +at the other.” +</p> +<p> +The words were no sooner spoken than the doctor’s +face underwent a startling transformation. +The affable smile vanished, giving way to a look of +such violent wrath that even the Phantom felt a little +awed. +</p> +<p> +“The hound shall get his just deserts, sir,” declared +the doctor in snarling tones. Then, as if +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_104'></a>104</span> +regretting his display of temper, he laughed easily. +“Provided, of course, we learn who perpetrated the +outrage.” +</p> +<p> +Again the Phantom was puzzled. He was certain +the anthropologist’s ferocious outburst had been +genuine. It had been far too real and convincing to +be feigned even by a clever actor. Yet he sensed a +contradiction. Whoever was responsible for the +blockaded door must have traversed the doctor’s +house on his way to the cellar. It did not seem likely +that strangers could be taking such liberties in a +private residence without the knowledge of its occupant. +</p> +<p> +“I really ought to have new locks put on the +doors,” observed Bimble, addressing himself rather +than his guest. “That collection of mine is too valuable +to be left unprotected.” +</p> +<p> +It sounded convincing, and the casual tone went a +long way toward quieting the Phantom’s misgivings. +He knew that an unduly suspicious nature is as bad +as a gullible one. Hadn’t he been too prone to put +the wrong construction on the eccentricities of a scientist? +Everything considered, the doctor’s actions +had certainly been friendly. Had his intentions been +hostile, he could easily have turned his guest over to +the police. +</p> +<p> +The Phantom shifted the subject. “Well, at any +rate, I proved to my satisfaction that Gage’s bedchamber +can’t be entered by way of the tunnel.” +</p> +<p> +The twinkle behind the lenses expressed doubt and +amusement. “And so you have convinced yourself +that Pinto committed the murder?” +</p> +<p> +“That nobody else could have committed it,” corrected +the Phantom. +</p> +<p> +“Which means precisely the same thing. Even +if we grant that you are being frank with me—which +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_105'></a>105</span> +I strongly doubt, by the way—you seem to have a +passion for drawing obvious inferences. From the +fact that you were unable to operate the mechanism +from the outside you deduce that the murderer could +not have entered the room via the tunnel. That, +my friend, is very superficial reasoning. For instance, +Gage himself might have admitted the murderer +through the revolving frame.” +</p> +<p> +The Phantom’s brows went up. The possibility +suggested by the doctor had not occurred to him. +The next moment he grinned at the sheer preposterousness +of the idea. “But few men are obliging +enough to welcome their murderers with open arms.” +</p> +<p> +“Not if they come as murderers.” The doctor +gave him a keen, searching look. “But suppose they +come in the guise of friends? That’s only a random +suggestion, but you will admit the possibility +exists.” He shrugged his shoulders, as if to dismiss +the subject. “Jerome has repaired the damage you +wrought in the tunnel last night, covering up all +traces of your little adventure, so there is no danger +of the police tracing you here.” +</p> +<p> +“Thoughtful,” murmured the Phantom a little +absently. +</p> +<p> +“Which reminds me,” added the anthropologist, +“that you are again a hunted man. The police have +seen their mistake and the prisoner was released this +morning. He bears a superficial resemblance to you, +but comparison of his finger prints with those of the +Gray Phantom proved conclusively he was not the +man they wanted, and he seems to have given a satisfactory +account of himself in every way.” +</p> +<p> +“What else?” asked the Phantom, deeply interested. +</p> +<p> +Doctor Bimble laughed merrily. “Every newspaper +in town is poking fun at the stupid police—and +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_106'></a>106</span> +well they might. The prisoner proved to be a reporter +employed by the <em>Sphere</em>, whose only offense +is an inclination to forget that these are dry times. +A reporter, of all persons! It’s delicious!” +</p> +<p> +“A reporter—on the <em>Sphere</em>!” echoed the Phantom, +sensing a possible significance in the combination. +“Not, by any chance, the one who reported +the Gage murder?” +</p> +<p> +“The same. That’s what lends an extra touch of +humor to the silly blunder. Imagine a journalist, +confronted with a scarcity of news, going out and +committing a murder in order to have something to +write about!” +</p> +<p> +The Phantom joined in the doctor’s laughter, but +his face sobered quickly. “Is this unfortunate journalist +wearing a beard?” +</p> +<p> +“No; but I understand your photograph in the +rogues’ gallery shows you smooth shaven, so the +absence of a beard really enhances the resemblance +to the pictures published.” +</p> +<p> +The Phantom was silent for a time. There was +a hint of deep thought in the lines around his eyes. +His hand passed slowly across his beard, still gritty +and tangled from his experience in the tunnel. Suddenly +the muscles of his face twitched. +</p> +<p> +“Anything else in the papers, doctor?” +</p> +<p> +“Only the usual silly doings of a silly world.” +</p> +<p> +“I mean in connection with the murder. No new +developments?” +</p> +<p> +“None whatever, except that the search for the +Gray Phantom has been renewed with increased +vigor. There is an interview with the police commissioner, +in which that optimistic soul declares the +rascal cannot have left New York and that he will +surely be captured within the next few hours.” +</p> +<p> +The Phantom smiled amusedly, but there was a +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_107'></a>107</span> +fog in his mind. Was it possible no one had yet discovered +that a second murder had been perpetrated +in the Sylvanus Gage house? With his own eyes +the Phantom had seen the housekeeper’s face fade +into the ashen hue of death, and it seemed incredible +that the body had not been found. +</p> +<p> +“By the way,” remarked Doctor Bimble, as if +carrying out the other’s train of thought, “I wonder +what has become of Gage’s housekeeper. I walked +over there this morning to see if I could do anything +for the poor lady. The front door was unlocked, +but Mrs. Trippe wasn’t about.” +</p> +<p> +It required a little effort on the Phantom’s part to +keep his voice steady. “H’m. She has had quite a +shock. Perhaps she is lying ill and helpless in some +part of the house.” +</p> +<p> +“The same thing occurred to me, and so I looked +in every room in the house. The lady was nowhere +in sight, however. Naturally she found it unpleasant +to live alone in the place after the murder. She +may have gone away for a visit.” +</p> +<p> +“Yes, quite likely.” It was on the Phantom’s +tongue to tell what he had seen, but for a reason not +quite clear to himself he desisted. Doctor Bimble’s +revelation was somewhat staggering, and the disappearance +of the housekeeper’s body was a poser that +baffled the Phantom’s astuteness. The mystery +seemed to grow more tangled and intricate with every +passing hour, and he felt that, so far, his progress +had been dishearteningly slow. Yet, with the whole +city and its environs converted into a vast man trap, +what could he do? +</p> +<p> +“Dear me!” The anthropologist jumped up with +the abruptness of a rabbit. “I sit here babbling like +a garrulous old woman while you must be famishing. +I shall have Jerome bring you some food at once. I +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_108'></a>108</span> +suppose,” stopping on his way to the door and regarding +the Phantom with a serio-comic expression, +“it isn’t necessary to warn you that it would be unwise +to go out on the streets a night like this.” +</p> +<p> +A grin masked the Phantom’s searching look. +“You seem deeply concerned in my welfare, doctor.” +</p> +<p> +“Naturally.” Bimble drew himself up. “With +me a bargain is always a bargain. I hope you +haven’t forgotten our understanding.” +</p> +<p> +“I see,” the Gray Phantom replied. “You want +my skeleton to come to you intact. Yes, doctor, I’m +aware of the inclemency of the weather. You +needn’t worry on my account.” +</p> +<p> +The doctor tarried a moment longer, cleared his +throat as if about to say something else, then swung +around on his heels and left the room. The Phantom +looked about him. On a chair near the bed +hung his clothes, neatly brushed and pressed, and +on the dresser, laid out in an orderly row, were the +contents of his pockets, including pistol, metal case, +and watch. The Phantom slipped out of bed and +examined the articles. Nothing was missing and +nothing had been disturbed. Evidently Doctor +Bimble trusted to his guest’s good sense to keep him +indoors. +</p> +<p> +And well he might, was the Phantom’s grim +thought. There were excellent reasons why he +should remain under the anthropologist’s roof—reasons +which only a fool or a desperado would +ignore. The police, goaded by ridicule and incensed +at the way they had been made game of, were undoubtedly +exerting every effort and using every trick +and stratagem to ensnare their quarry. There were +pitfalls at every crossing, traps in every block, prying +eyes in a thousand places. To defy such dangers +would be sheer madness. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_109'></a>109</span> +</p> +<p> +Yet there were equally urgent reasons why the +Phantom should not remain idle. One of them, and +the most potent of them all, had to do with Helen +Hardwick. Another was the Phantom’s irrepressible +passion for flinging his gauntlet in the face of danger. +A third was the firm conviction that he could rely +on his mental and physical agility to see him through, +no matter what hazards he might encounter. +</p> +<p> +He sprang back into bed as a noise sounded at +the door. The cat-footed and tight-lipped manservant +entered with a folding table, a stack of +newspapers, and a trayful of steaming dishes. The +Phantom watched the nimble play of his long, prehensile +fingers as he set the table. +</p> +<p> +“You’re quite a scrapper, Jerome,” he observed +good-naturedly. +</p> +<p> +“Yes, sir.” The man’s gloomy face was unreadable. +</p> +<p> +“You didn’t give me much of a chance to use my +fists on you.” +</p> +<p> +“No, sir.” +</p> +<p> +The Phantom attacked the hot and savory soup. +“Pugilistic and culinary talents are a rare combination, +Jerome.” +</p> +<p> +“Yes, sir.” +</p> +<p> +“But you are not very much of a conversationalist.” +</p> +<p> +“No, sir.” +</p> +<p> +The man, standing with his back to the wall, apparently +immovable save when he unbent to pass a +dish or replenish the water tumbler, piqued the +Phantom’s curiosity. A grenadier turned to stone +while standing at attention could not be more rigid +and impassive than Jerome, yet there was a hint of +constant alertness about the dull eyes and the lines +at the corners of his mouth. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_110'></a>110</span> +</p> +<p> +“There are moments when silence is golden,” observed +the Phantom. “Perhaps this is one of them.” +</p> +<p> +“Perhaps, sir.” +</p> +<p> +The Phantom finished the meal in silence. When +Jerome had gone, he turned to the newspapers, noticing +that the front pages were largely given over to +himself. His own photograph was published side by +side with that of the <em>Sphere</em> reporter, whose name +appeared to be Thomas Granger. Many thousands +of dollars were being wagered on the outcome of +the contest between the Phantom and the police, with +the odds slightly in favor of the latter. A yellow +journal was offering prizes to those of its readers +who furnished the best suggestions for the capture +of the famous outlaw. There were interviews with +leading citizens in all walks of life, expressing amazement +and indignation over the murder of Sylvanus +Gage and the dilatory tactics of the officials. Even +Wall Street was disturbed, for who knew but what +the celebrated rogue was planning another of the +stupendous raids that had rocked the financial world +on two or three occasions in the past? +</p> +<p> +The Phantom was amused, but also a trifle perturbed. +The handicaps he had to overcome if he +were to accomplish his purpose were rather staggering. +But for the eccentric anthropologist’s hospitality +he might even now be in the coils of the police. +There was a troubled gleam in his eyes as he tossed +the papers aside. For several minutes he sat on the +edge of the bed, a thoughtful pucker between his +eyes, abstractedly gazing down at the papers on the +floor. +</p> +<p> +Of a sudden he roused himself out of a brown +study. While his thoughts had been far away, his +eyes had been steadily fixed on the two photographs +in the center of the page spread out at his feet. Now +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_111'></a>111</span> +a steely glitter appeared in his narrowing eyes and +a smile spread slowly from the corners of his lips. +</p> +<p> +In an instant he was on his feet, glancing at his +watch. It was almost ten o’clock. He hurried +quietly to the door, listened at the keyhole for a few +moments, then shot the bolt. From now on his +movements were characterized by the brisk precision +of one acting on an inspiration. Taking a sharp-edged +tool from his pocket case, he stepped to the +wash stand and mixed some lather. A few deft +strokes and slashes, and his beard was gone. Since +Patrolman Pinto had recognized him in spite of it, +the beard was no longer useful, and the reddish and +bristly mustache which he took from a wrapper in +his metal case and affixed to his lips would serve +fairly well as a temporary disguise. After a brief +glance in the mirror, he put on his clothes and +pocketed the articles on the dresser. +</p> +<p> +The Gray Phantom was ready for one of the +maddest and most perilous enterprises of his career. +</p> +<h2><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_112'></a>112</span>CHAPTER XIII—KIDNAPED</h2> +<p> +Somewhere a clock was striking ten as the +Phantom withdrew the bolt and, silent as a cat, +stepped out into the hall. He leaned over the +balustrade and looked down. From the rear came +an occasional tinkle of glassware. Doctor Bimble, +never dreaming that his guest was foolhardy enough +to leave his secure retreat a second time, was evidently +at work in his laboratory. Noiselessly the +Phantom stole down the stairs, carefully testing each +step before he intrusted his weight to it. The door +opened without a sound, and he darted a quick +glance up and down the street. +</p> +<p> +A fine drizzle was falling and the sidewalks glistened +in the lights from the street lamps and windows. +There was a thin sprinkling of pedestrians +in the thoroughfare. Outside a pool room across +the street stood a group of loafers, and a band of +gospel workers was addressing an apathetic crowd +on the nearest corner. The Phantom was about to +step away from the door when he saw something +that caused him to press close to the wall. +</p> +<p> +“Our friend Pinto,” he mused as a thickset figure +jogged past. “Seems a bit distracted this evening. +Wonder what’s up.” +</p> +<p> +The policeman passed on with only a perfunctory +glance in the Phantom’s direction. There was something +about his gait and the way he swung his baton +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_113'></a>113</span> +which suggested that his mind was not quite at ease. +The Phantom waited until he had turned the corner, +then crept out of the doorway, assuming an easy, +swinging gait as he struck the sidewalk and turned +west. +</p> +<p> +The streets had their usual humdrum appearance, +but beneath the calm on the surface he sensed a tension +and an air of repressed activity. It might have +been only imagination, but he thought people were +regarding each other with covert suspicion, as if +friends and neighbors were no longer to be trusted. +The Phantom sauntering along as if he had not a +care in the world, turned into the Bowery and proceeded +toward the nearest station of the elevated +railway. No taxicabs were in sight, but he would +be comparatively safe once he was aboard a train. +</p> +<p> +He whistled a merry little tune, but he was uncomfortably +aware that the cut and quality of his clothes +were attracting attention in that squalid neighborhood. +Now he was only a few paces from the elevated +stairs. The space immediately in front of him +was brightly illuminated by a corner light, and each +forward step was taken at great risk. He advanced +with an air of unconcern, glanced languidly at the +papers and magazines spread out on the news stall, +and in another moment he would have been starting +up the stairs. +</p> +<p> +Just then he felt the sharp scrutiny of a pair of +eyes. Their owner, he fancied, was stationed in the +dark doorway of an abandoned corner saloon, only +a few steps from the foot of the stairway, but he +dared not look back or sideways. In a second he +had rallied his wits to the emergency. To show the +slightest nervousness or seem in a hurry would instantly +provoke a sharp command to halt. He purchased +a newspaper, glanced disdainfully at the headlines +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_114'></a>114</span> +on the first page, and was chuckling over a +cartoon on the sporting page as he leisurely began to +ascend the stairs. +</p> +<p> +A loud rumbling told that a train was approaching. +The Phantom pursued his unhurried pace, +conscious that the owner of the prying eyes had +stepped out of the doorway and was regarding him +suspiciously. Suddenly, as he reached a turn in the +stairs, a cry rang out: +</p> +<p> +“Stop!” +</p> +<p> +The Phantom looked down with an air of idle +curiosity, as if it were unthinkable that the command +could be meant for him, and climbed on. He had +almost reached the top when a second and more insistent +cry sounded. +</p> +<p> +“Hey, there! I mean <em>you</em>!” +</p> +<p> +The Phantom climbed the remaining steps, reaching +the ticket window just as a train roared into the +station. Three sharp taps sounded against the sidewalk +below, followed by a shrill blast of a police +whistle. The Phantom dropped his ticket in the +chopper and stepped out on the platform. The train +gates were open and a few passengers were getting +aboard. For a moment he hesitated; then he hurried +swiftly to the end of the deserted platform and +leaped out on the narrow walk used by track +workers. +</p> +<p> +The train rolled out of the station. The Phantom, +lying flat, guessed that the agent at the next stop had +already been notified to hold it for search, and it +was this circumstance that had decided him against +getting aboard. From the street rose a great hubbub. +He began to crawl along the narrow span, +screened from sight by a heavy beam. Each moment +was precious now, for soon the police would +learn that the Phantom was not on the train, and +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_115'></a>115</span> +then they would guess that he was hiding somewhere +on the platform or the track. +</p> +<p> +He had crawled the length of half a block when +he stopped and looked down. The commotion at +the corner had ceased, but as he glanced behind him +he saw that several dark forms were moving rapidly +across the platform, as if looking for someone. At +the point where he lay the street was dimly lighted +and almost deserted. Agilely he swung his body +from the walk, clutched the beam with both hands +until he could obtain a foothold along one of the +heavy iron pillars that supported the structure, then +slid quickly to the ground. Standing in the shadow +of the pillar, he looked about him. Apparently he +had not been seen, but in a few moments a dragnet +would be thrown around the vicinity, and he would +have to exercise the utmost speed and caution if he +was to escape. +</p> +<p> +Quickly he dodged into a side street. On the +corner was a patrol box, and, even as he glanced at +it, the bulb at the top of the pole flashed into a green +brilliance. He knew what the signal meant. A general +alarm had been sent out, spreading the news that +the Gray Phantom had been seen. He hurried on, +but he had not reached far when a patrolman appeared +around the opposite corner, forcing him to +take refuge in a dark cellarway. Luckily the green +light had already attracted the policeman’s attention, +and he hurried past the point where the Phantom +was hidden, and made for the box on the corner. +While the bluecoat was receiving his instructions +from the station house the Phantom crawled out of +his retreat and, clinging close to the shadows along +the walls, hastened in the other direction. +</p> +<p> +He was very cautious now. Once out of the immediate +neighborhood, the greatest danger would +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_116'></a>116</span> +be past, but for the present every step of the way +bristled with perils. A taxicab hove into sight as he +reached an intersection of streets, but the chauffeur +showed no inclination to heed his signal. The Phantom +placed himself directly in the path of the onrushing +vehicle. It stopped with a grinding of brakes, +accompanied with a medley of oaths. +</p> +<p> +“What d’ye mean?” demanded the chauffeur. +“Can’t you see I’m busy?” +</p> +<p> +“Double fare,” suggested the Phantom temptingly. +</p> +<p> +A sharp glance shot out from beneath the visor +of the driver’s cap. “Where to?” +</p> +<p> +“South Ferry,” said the Phantom, though his +actual destination was a good distance short of that +point. +</p> +<p> +“All right,” with a shrewd glance at his fare. +“Get in.” +</p> +<p> +He held the door open and the Phantom entered +the cab. They had proceeded only a short distance, +however, when the passenger pinned a bill to the +cushion, cautiously stepped out on to the running +board and hopped off in the middle of a dark block. +He had not quite approved of the chauffeur’s looks. +</p> +<p> +Just ahead of him lay the wholesale section of +Broadway, at that time of night as gloomy and lifeless +a stretch of thoroughfare as can be found in all +New York. The Phantom walked briskly to the +corner and was turning south when he all but collided +with a red-faced heavy-jowled policeman. +</p> +<p> +“Pardon,” he said lightly. Quickly he stuck a +cigar between his lips, tugging at his mustache with +one hand and exploring his vest pocket with the +other. “By the way, officer, happen to have a +match?” +</p> +<p> +The officer produced the desired article, and in +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_117'></a>117</span> +return the Phantom proffered a cigar while he lighted +his own. With a hearty “Thank you, sor,” the policeman +put the weed in his pocket and trudged on, +deciding he would smoke the affable stranger’s cigar +when he went off duty. He didn’t, however. After +straightening out certain tangles in his mind and arriving +at certain conclusions, Officer McCloskey resolved +to keep the cigar as a souvenir of the occasion +when he accommodated the Gray Phantom with a +match. +</p> +<p> +Chuckling at the happy circumstances that some +policemen are more gullible than others, the Phantom +hurried forward in the shadows of tall brick +buildings. He thought he had left the zone of greatest +danger behind him, but the utmost caution was +still needed; the crucial test would not come until +he reached his destination. As often before, he was +relying for success and safety on the fact that he was +doing the very thing a hunted man was least likely +to do. +</p> +<p> +A hansom drawn by a scraggy nag came toward +him and drew up at the curb on his signal. He fixed +an appraising look on the driver, a despondent-looking +individual in sadly dilapidated livery, whose sole +concern in his prospective passenger seemed to have +to do with the collecting of a generous fare. +</p> +<p> +“Drive me to the <em>Sphere</em> office,” directed the +Phantom, satisfied with his inspection of the man on +the box. +</p> +<p> +He climbed in, and a crack of the whip startled +the nag into activity. The Phantom, tingling with a +familiar sensation, leaned back against the cushion +and watched long rows of somber buildings stream +past. He was bent on a madcap adventure, and the +details of his plan were still vague, but if the scheme +succeeded he would have gained an important advantage. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_118'></a>118</span> +His task, besides being difficult and dangerous, +was also somewhat strange to him. Many +sensational ventures embellished his past, but he had +never until now essayed a kidnaping, at least not +under circumstances like these. +</p> +<p> +The vista brightened. A short distance ahead +loomed the Municipal Building and the Woolworth +Tower. Serenely the cab jogged into City Hall +Park, carrying its passenger into a brightly lighted +square that even at night stirred with activity and +bristled with a thousand dangers. The hansom +stopped, and the Phantom gazed a trifle dubiously +at a tall building from which issued the clatter of +linotype machines and the dull rumble of presses. +</p> +<p> +“Here we are, sir,” observed the jehu expectantly, +speaking through the trap over the passenger’s head. +</p> +<p> +The Phantom did not move. The entrance of the +<em>Sphere</em> building was brightly lighted and people were +constantly passing in either direction. On the corner, +keenly scanning the face of each passer-by, stood a +lordly policeman. The Phantom counted his +chances, knowing that much more than his personal +freedom was at stake. The mustache, his sole disguise, +seemed inadequate. He might be recognized +by anyone in the passing throng who chanced to +give him a second glance, and he would face another +ticklish situation when he was inside the building. +</p> +<p> +“Didn’t you say the <em>Sphere</em>, sir?” inquired the +driver. +</p> +<p> +The Phantom was about to reply when fate unexpectedly +stepped in and solved his problem. A +few vigorous expressions spoken in loud and boisterous +tones drew his attention to the doorway. A +gaudily garbed person who seemed to be in an advanced +stage of inebriation was being propelled +through the door by a stocky man with a reddish and +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_119'></a>119</span> +determined face. As he caught a glimpse of the +tipsy individual’s features, the Phantom started and +wedged his figure into the farther corner of the +hansom. +</p> +<p> +From his well-filled wallet he took a bill and thrust +it through the trap. The jehu took it, stared for a +moment at the numeral in the corner, which was imposing +enough to corrupt stancher souls than his, +then listened attentively to the instructions his fare +was giving in low and hurried tones. +</p> +<p> +“I get you, sir,” was his comment. “Leave it to +me.” +</p> +<p> +In the meantime the stout person had given the +tipsy one a final departing shove, and now he stood +aside, with thumbs crooked in the armpits of his vest, +his face glowing with the consciousness of a job well +performed. His victim picked himself up with great +difficulty and looked about him with groggy eyes +while loudly proclaiming how he would avenge the +affront. +</p> +<p> +“Cab, sir?” invitingly inquired the jehu. +</p> +<p> +The inebriate one careened forward, blinked his +eyes and, with head wagging limply from side to +side, gave the hansom a slanting look. Evidently it +met his approval, for he nodded and staggered +closer. The driver jumped from the box and obligingly +assisted his new fare to the seat. A moment +later the cab was dashing away from the curb, followed +by the amused glances of several spectators. +</p> +<p> +The tipsy passenger, sprawling lumpishly in his +seat, rolled a little to one side as the conveyance +turned a corner. To his amazement his head struck +someone’s shoulder; then a firm, low voice spoke in +his ear: +</p> +<p> +“Tommie Granger, you’re just the person I have +been looking for.” +</p> +<h2><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_120'></a>120</span>CHAPTER XIV—THOMAS GRANGER</h2> +<p> +Slowly and with difficulty the intoxicated man +straightened himself and looked unsteadily at +his companion. They were in a dark street and +their faces were indistinct. +</p> +<p> +“Shay,” demanded the tipsy one, “thish ish my +cab. Get out!” +</p> +<p> +“Now, Granger,” replied the Phantom with a +chuckle, “you surely don’t mind giving a fellow a +lift? By the way, where do you think you are +going?” +</p> +<p> +“Home, but——” +</p> +<p> +“You forgot to tell the driver your address.” +</p> +<p> +“Dam’ the driver! He ought to know enough—hic—to +take a fellow home when he’s soused. +Where elsh would I be going? Huh?” +</p> +<p> +“But your address——” +</p> +<p> +“Dam’ my address! It’s nobody’sh business. I +live where I please—see? I’m drunk. I get drunk +when—hic—whenever I feel like it. Know where +to get the sh-stuff, too. Alwaysh carry a bottle on +my hip. Want a drink?” +</p> +<p> +“Never touch it. Thanks, just the same. What +was the matter back at the office? They were treating +you rather roughly.” +</p> +<p> +Granger seemed to recall a grievance. He made +an effort to draw himself up. “I inshulted the city +editor and—hic—he told the watchman to bounce +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_121'></a>121</span> +me. I alwaysh inshult people when I’m soused. Did +I ever inshult you?” +</p> +<p> +“Not yet, Granger.” +</p> +<p> +“Maybe I will shome day. Shay, tell the cabby +to turn back. I wanta go back to the offish and clean +out that bunch of stiffs.” +</p> +<p> +“Now, Granger——” +</p> +<p> +“Lemme go! I’ll show ’em they can’t treat me +that way. Lemme go, I tell you! Hey, cabby, reversh +the current.” +</p> +<p> +Granger sprang from the seat, lurched against the +side of the cab, and would have hurled himself +against the pavement had not the Phantom jerked +him back. The drunken man lunged out with arms +and legs, but he subsided quickly as he felt something +hard pressing against his chest. +</p> +<p> +“Cut out the nonsense!” The Phantom spoke +firmly and incisively. “I have you covered, and I +won’t stand for any foolishness.” +</p> +<p> +The touch of steel against his ribs seemed to have +a sobering effect on Granger. For a few moments +he stared sulkily at his companion, then he settled +himself against the cushion, and his mind appeared +to be groping its way out of stupefying fumes. The +cab was pursuing a zigzagging route through +crooked and dimly lighted streets, the jehu having +been instructed to drive at random until he received +further orders. The Phantom’s mind worked +quickly while he pressed the pistol against his captive’s +chest. A new problem confronted him. He +had kidnaped his man, but where was he to take +him? The logical answer was Sea-Glimpse, but the +trip would consume too much time, to say nothing +of the risks involved. Doctor Bimble’s house? The +Phantom shook his head even as the idea occurred +to him. The anthropologist was too erratic a man +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_122'></a>122</span> +to inspire confidence, and the Phantom needed someone +whom he could trust absolutely. +</p> +<p> +Presently he felt Granger’s eyes on his face. The +cool night air, together with the steady pressure of +the pistol, was rapidly driving the alcoholic vapors +from the reporter’s brain, and now he was subjecting +his captor to a blinking, unsteady scrutiny, as if he +were just beginning to suspect that something was +amiss. +</p> +<p> +“Is this a pinch?” he asked, his tones still a trifle +thick. +</p> +<p> +The Phantom laughed. “No, Granger. I’m not +an officer. Besides, why should I be pinching you?” +</p> +<p> +“For being drunk and disorderly and carrying a +bottle on my hip.” +</p> +<p> +“Those heinous crimes don’t interest me. Anyhow, +I understand journalists are more or less privileged +persons. I am merely taking you to a safe +place, where you won’t go around insulting people +and getting your head smashed.” +</p> +<p> +Granger fell into a moody silence, and the Phantom +thought he detected signs of a growing uneasiness +about his captive. Evidently the period of depression +that follows artificial stimulation was already +setting in. Because of the darkness and his +befuddled state of mind, the reporter had not yet +recognized the man at his side, but his gaze was +taking on a keener edge and would soon penetrate +the thin disguise afforded by the mustache. The +Phantom felt the need of a quick decision. +</p> +<p> +A clock struck one. In scrupulous obedience to +his orders the jehu was urging his nag over the +darkest and most dismal streets he could find. The +Phantom looked out, and a glance at a corner sign +told him that they were crossing Mott Street and +were not far from the heart of old Chinatown. A +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_123'></a>123</span> +recollection flashed through his mind, and in its wake +came an idea. +</p> +<p> +“Stop,” he called through the trap. The hansom +jolted to the curb and halted. The street was silent +and the sidewalks, as far as eyes could reach, were +deserted. There was a thin, lazy drizzle in the air +and the atmosphere was a trifle heavy. +</p> +<p> +“Listen, Granger,” he spoke sharply. “We are +getting out here, but I intend to keep you covered +every instant. The slightest sound or the least false +move will cost you your life. Is that clear?” +</p> +<p> +The reporter’s response was surly, but the Phantom +knew that his warning had had the effect he +desired. Holding the pistol with one hand, he took +out his wallet with the other and selected a bill. +Then he stepped down on the curb, ordering the reporter +to follow. +</p> +<p> +“Here, cabby.” He extended the bill, which, with +the other the Phantom had previously given him, +was surely enough to make the jehu forget any little +irregularity he might have observed. With a fervent +“Thank you, sir,” he whipped up the scrawny nag +and drove away. +</p> +<p> +“Now, Granger.” The Phantom spoke in low +but commanding tones. “My life depends on the +success of this little undertaking. I’ll shoot you the +instant you show the least intention to spoil my plan. +Understand?” +</p> +<p> +Granger nodded, seemingly convinced that he was +dealing with a desperate man and that, for the time +at least, it behooved him to obey orders and ask no +questions. The Phantom wound his arm about the +other’s back, firmly jabbing the muzzle of the pistol +against the fellow’s armpit, thus giving the appearance +of steadying a slightly incapacitated friend. +</p> +<p> +They approached the center of Chinatown, keeping in +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_124'></a>124</span> +the shadows whenever possible. Granger was +sullenly silent, and he seemed to be hoping and +watching for a sign of relaxing vigilance on his captor’s +part. The Phantom understood, and as they +left the shelter of darkness and turned the corner +at Pell Street, he pressed the pistol a little harder +against the reporter’s armpit. +</p> +<p> +A slumberous gloom hung over the district, as if +the famous old quarter were brooding over memories +of a lurid past, when terror stalked in subterranean +crypts and strange scenes were enacted under +cover of Oriental splendor. There were a few stragglers +in the streets and some of the shops and restaurants +were lighted; but, on the whole, the section +presented a dull and lifeless appearance. The Phantom +scanned the signs and numbers as he hurried +along with his captive, keeping the latter close to +his side, and constantly on the alert against lurking +dangers. +</p> +<p> +Finally he stopped before one of the smaller establishments +and, after descending a few steps, +knocked on the basement door. Signs painted across +the window in Chinese and English announced that +the place was occupied by Peng Yuen, dealer in +Oriental goods. Once, years ago, while the district +was ripped and rocked by one of its frequent tong +wars, the Phantom had chanced to do Peng Yuen +a great favor, and the Chinaman had sworn undying +gratitude and promised to show his appreciation +in a practical way if the opportunity should ever +come. A strange friendship had developed, and +Peng Yuen, though wily and rascally in his dealings +with others, had impressed the Phantom as a man +whom he could safely trust. +</p> +<p> +The front of the store was dark, but through an +open door in the rear came a shaft of light. As he +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_125'></a>125</span> +waited, the Phantom threw an uneasy glance up and +down the street. Luck had been with him so far, +but the tension was beginning to tell on his nerves. +</p> +<p> +A puny figure crossed the path of light, then the +door opened a few inches, and the two arrivals were +given a keen, slant-eyed scrutiny. The Phantom +knew a little Chinese, and a few words spoken in +that tongue had a magic effect on the man inside. +With a curious obeisance, he drew back and motioned +them to enter. The Phantom, pushing his quarry +ahead of him through the door, spoke a few more +words in Chinese, and their host pointed invitingly +to the door in the rear. +</p> +<p> +The three entered, and Peng Yuen, arrayed in +straw-colored garments embroidered with black bats, +shot the bolt. His face was as impassive as that of +the image of Kuan-Yin <em>pu tze</em> which stood on a shelf +over a lacquered teak-wood cabinet, and he was so +slight of stature that it seemed as though a puff of +wind would have blown him to the land of his ancestors. +The air in the little den was heavy with +scents of the East. +</p> +<p> +The light, filtering through shades of green and +rose, gave Granger his first clear view of the Phantom’s +face. With a start he fell back a step and +stared at his captor out of gradually widening eyes. +The last signs of stupor fled from his face, and +a startled cry rose in his throat as the Phantom smilingly +snatched the false mustache from his lips. +</p> +<p> +The Chinaman, standing with arms folded across +his chest, viewed the scene with supreme indifference. +Granger slowly ran his hand across his forehead, as +if wondering whether his senses were playing him +tricks. His lips came apart, and a startled gleam +appeared in his bleary, heavy-lidded eyes. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_126'></a>126</span> +</p> +<p> +“The—the Gray Phantom!” he muttered shakily, +wetting his lips and falling back another step. +</p> +<p> +The Phantom looked amused. “Just think what +a scoop you’ve missed, Granger.” He turned to the +Chinaman. “Peng, you old heathen, I guess you +know they are accusing me of murder?” +</p> +<p> +“So?” said Peng Yuen in his slow, precise English. +“I did not know. I never read the newspapers.” +</p> +<p> +“Then, of course, you are not aware that the +police are conducting a lively search for me?” +</p> +<p> +“My friend,” said the Chinaman, unimpressed, +“I have told you that I do not read the papers.” +</p> +<p> +The Phantom searched the almond-shaped eyes +for a sign of a twinkle, but found none. +</p> +<p> +“Peng Yuen, you are lying like a gentleman. It +grieves me to shatter such beautiful ignorance, but +it must be done. I did not commit the murder of +which I am accused. For reasons of my own I +desire to find the murderer and hand him over to the +police. I am seriously handicapped by the interest +the authorities are taking in me, which makes it unsafe +for me to move a single step. I have thought +of a ruse by which that obstacle may be removed.” +</p> +<p> +The Chinaman lifted his brows inquiringly. +</p> +<p> +“This gentleman,” continued the Phantom, indicating +the inebriate, “is Mr. Thomas Granger, +a reporter on the <em>Sphere</em>. As you may have noticed, +he looks something like me. The police, deceived +by the resemblance, took it into their heads to arrest +him. He was able to give a satisfactory account of +himself, of course, and his finger prints quickly convinced +the authorities they had made a mistake. +They are not likely to make that kind of mistake +a second time. You follow me, Peng Yuen?” +</p> +<p> +The ghost of a grin flickered across the Chinaman’s +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_127'></a>127</span> +face. “Your words, my friend, have their +roots in eternal wisdom.” +</p> +<p> +“Thanks for that kind thought, Peng Yuen. I +knew you would see the point. Granger has seen it, +too, though his mind is not functioning with its usual +brilliance to-night. He has consented to disappear +for a few days and has agreed to let me borrow his +identity in the meantime. As the Gray Phantom +I can scarcely move a step. In the rôle of Thomas +Granger, newspaper reporter, I shall be able to move +about unmolested. What, Granger—not backing +out of the bargain, I hope?” +</p> +<p> +A seemingly careless gesture with the pistol, together +with a warning look, quickly silenced the protests +on Granger’s lips. After a few moments of +fidgeting and indecision, he accepted the situation +with a good-natured grin, as if its humorous side had +appealed to him. +</p> +<p> +“Excellent!” drawled the Phantom. “I knew you +would be reasonable. Now we strip.” +</p> +<p> +He handed the pistol to Peng Yuen, placed his +metal case on the table, and began to remove his +clothes. Granger followed his example, and in a +few minutes the two had exchanged garments. The +reporter was addicted to vivid hues and extreme designs. +At first the Phantom felt a trifle uncomfortable +in the strange garb, but he knew it was necessary +to the rôle he was assuming. He studied the +reporter carefully while he took a number of tubes +and vials from his case. Granger was a younger +man, his eyes were of a slightly different hue from +the Phantom’s, and there were other differences +which were easily discernible to the keen eye. +</p> +<p> +The Phantom, viewing himself in a cheval glass, +daubed a dark tint over the gray at his temples. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_128'></a>128</span> +With an occasional backward glance at the reporter, +he dappled his cheeks with a faintly chromatic +powder, traced a tiny line on each side of the mouth, +poured a little oil on his hair and patted it till it +lay smooth and sleek against his head, performing +each touch with such a delicate skill that, though +the resemblance was greatly enhanced, there was +scarcely a suggestion of make-up. +</p> +<p> +“What do you think, Peng Yuen?” he inquired, +turning from the cheval glass. +</p> +<p> +A look of admiration came into the Chinaman’s +usually woodenlike face. Even the voice was Granger’s. +The expression around the mouth and the +eyes and the characteristic set of the shoulders were +adroitly imitated, and already the Phantom had +picked up several of the reporter’s mannerisms. +</p> +<p> +“It is good,” murmured Peng Yuen, putting the +maximum of approval into the minimum of words. +</p> +<p> +The Phantom was beginning to show signs of restlessness. +He glanced at his watch, then fixed the +Chinaman with a penetrating look. +</p> +<p> +“Peng Yuen,” he said, “in the good old days there +were hiding places on these premises where people +could disappear.” +</p> +<p> +“It may be so.” The Chinaman’s face was expressionless. +“I do not recollect.” +</p> +<p> +But even as he spoke, a touch of his fingers produced +an opening in the wall. The Phantom motioned, +and with a shrug of the shoulders the reporter +stepped through the aperture. A moment +later a sliding panel had shut him from view. +</p> +<p> +“The Phantom has disappeared,” mumbled the +Chinaman. “Except when I bring him food and +drink, I will forget that he exists. Going so soon, +Mr. Granger?” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_129'></a>129</span> +The bogus journalist grinned as he gripped Peng +Yuen’s thin, weazened hand. He squeezed it until +the Chinaman winced, then hurried out into the +dark, dripping night, turning his steps in the direction +of the house on East Houston Street. +</p> +<h2><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_130'></a>130</span>CHAPTER XV—A WARNING FROM THE DUKE</h2> +<p> +The Phantom walked briskly, with an easy, +carefree swagger, breathing freely for the first +time since the beginning of the strange events +that had attended his efforts to solve the mystery of +the Gage murder. In the rôle of an irresponsible +journalist with a weakness for strong liquor he could +feel reasonably secure, for the police had been so +cruelly nagged and ridiculed that they would think +twice before repeating their sad blunder. +</p> +<p> +“Stop!” commanded a voice as he swung into +Houston Street. The Phantom halted and smiled +impudently into the face of a plain-clothes man who +emerged from a dark doorway to look him over. +</p> +<p> +“Oh, Granger,” muttered the officer disgustedly +after a glance at his showy attire and a sniff of the +whisky with which the Phantom, making use of the +reporter’s bottle, had prudently scented himself. +“Sober for a change, I see. Where do you get the +stuff, anyhow?” +</p> +<p> +“That would be telling. Any news of the Phantom?” +</p> +<p> +“Naw! We thought we had him a while ago, +over at a Third Avenue L station, but he blew +away. I s’pose you’re out to nab him and get a +scoop for that yellow rag of yours.” +</p> +<p> +“Maybe,” said the Phantom cheerfully. “It +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_131'></a>131</span> +would be quite an event in my young life. I’ll be on +my way, if you’re sure you don’t want to take me +to headquarters and get another sample of my +finger prints.” +</p> +<p> +“Aw—beat it!” muttered the detective, touched +in a sore spot. The Phantom chuckled and moved +on. His new rôle promised to be amusing as well as +profitable, and the ease with which he had passed +the first test gave him added confidence. Twice +within the next fifteen minutes he was stopped and +questioned, only to be dismissed with a disgusted +grunt or a facetious remark. +</p> +<p> +As he crossed the Bowery a stocky figure in patrolman’s +uniform appeared around the corner and +moved down the street a few paces ahead of him. +After studying his gait and bearing for a few moments, +the Phantom knew it was Officer Pinto. He +slackened his pace and followed, stepping softly so +as not to attract the policeman’s attention. +</p> +<p> +Pinto’s steps faltered as he approached the middle +of the block, and he walked with a shuffling and +uncertain air. Finally he stopped, and the Phantom +thought he was gazing at a window directly in front +of him. He tiptoed a little closer, and now he saw +that the building on which the officer’s attention was +fixed so intently was none other than the murky and +silent structure that had been occupied by Gage and +his housekeeper. +</p> +<p> +The policeman drew a little closer to the window, +then stood rigid and motionless, as if the building +were exerting a peculiar fascination upon him. At +that moment the Phantom would have given a great +deal to know what was going on in the mind of the +man he was watching. He could make a guess, but +guesses were unsatisfactory. At length the officer +shrugged his shoulders, as if to shake off something +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_132'></a>132</span> +that oppressed him, then tried the lock in matter-of-fact +fashion and moved on down the street. +</p> +<p> +The Phantom hastened after him. He was no +longer trying to avoid detection, and his footfalls +sounded clear and sharp in the quiet street. The +policeman stopped, looked back, and peered sharply +at the oncomer. +</p> +<p> +“Granger—huh!” he snorted after giving the +Phantom a derisive once-over. “Say, does your ma +know you’re out as late as this? Getting all them +glad rags mussed up in the rain, too! What’s the +idea?” +</p> +<p> +“The Phantom has got my goat,” confessed the +pseudo reporter. “It isn’t natural for a man to pop +in and out the way he does without getting caught.” +</p> +<p> +“Well, what are you going to do about it?” +grumbled the patrolman, resuming his walk. +</p> +<p> +The Phantom fell into step beside him, now and +then casting a sidelong glance at his sour and uncommunicative +face. All of a sudden he wondered +whether the policeman was aware that a second +murder had been committed in the Gage house, and +again it struck him as bafflingly strange that no mention +had been made of the finding of the housekeeper’s +body. What had become of it, and how +much, if anything, did Pinto know? +</p> +<p> +“Something seems to be eating you,” he observed +casually, trying to adopt a phraseology suited to his +rôle. “You were staring at that window as if you +expected old Gage’s ghost to take a stroll. What +were you thinking of, Pinto?” +</p> +<p> +The policeman gave a quick, searching look. +“Say, you’ve been watching me, ain’t you? What’s +the big idea? And how do you know my name?” +</p> +<p> +The Phantom laughed engagingly. “How touchy +we are to-night! I wasn’t watching you, exactly. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_133'></a>133</span> +Just strolling along, hoping to bump into the Phantom +and cover myself with glory. Then I saw you, +and I couldn’t imagine what you were seeing in that +window. As for knowing your name, I happen to +be aware that the officer on this beat is one Joshua +Pinto and that he was called by the housekeeper the +night Gage was murdered.” +</p> +<p> +The patrolman, evidently satisfied with the explanation, +mumbled something under his breath. +</p> +<p> +“But you haven’t answered my question,” persisted +the Phantom, speaking in gently teasing tones. +“I am still wondering what you were thinking of +while standing in front of the window.” +</p> +<p> +“Why, I was—just thinking, that’s all.” +</p> +<p> +“How illuminating! I wonder if, by any chance, +your profound meditations had anything to do with +the present whereabouts of Mrs. Mary Trippe, +Gage’s housekeeper.” +</p> +<p> +The patrolman came to a dead stop. Of a sudden +his face turned almost white and his eyes grew wider +and wider as they stared into the questioner’s face. +</p> +<p> +“What—what d’you mean?” he demanded +thickly. +</p> +<p> +The Phantom laughed easily. “Why, Pinto, +you’re the scaredest cop I ever saw. Your nerves +must be in a bad way. I was only wondering if +you’ve seen anything of Mrs. Trippe lately.” +</p> +<p> +“My nerves <em>are</em> a bit jumpy,” admitted Pinto. +He was moving again, but there was evidence of +weakness in the region of his knees. “They’ve been +that way ever since I had a touch of indigestion last +month. What was it you asked me about Mrs. +Trippe?” +</p> +<p> +“I walked over there yesterday afternoon, meaning +to ask her a question or two in connection with +the murder. I couldn’t find her, and the neighbors +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_134'></a>134</span> +said they hadn’t seen her for a day or two. Got +any idea where she is?” +</p> +<p> +“No, I haven’t.” Pinto was speaking in calmer +tones now. “Likely as not she’s visiting friends or +relatives somewhere. Wimmen don’t like to stay +in a place where there’s been a murder.” +</p> +<p> +“Something in that. By the way, Pinto, when +were you last inside the house?” +</p> +<p> +Again, for a mere instant, the patrolman’s steps +faltered. He threw the man at his side an uneasy +glance. “Why, let me see. It was the day I had +the Phantom locked up in the bedroom and he gave +me the slip. Why did you want to know?” +</p> +<p> +“No reason in particular. I was just thinking +that—But my mind’s wandering. Got a bit tanked +early in the evening. Guess I’ll turn in. See you +later.” +</p> +<p> +With a yawn, he turned back, fancying there was +a note of relief in the policeman’s farewell. He +smiled as he walked along. His conversation with +Pinto had cleared up one point in his mind. The +officer knew something of Mrs. Trippe’s fate. The +dread he had evinced at mention of the housekeeper’s +name proved that, and his prevarications and evasions +were further evidence. The plea of indigestion +and nervousness, coming from one of Pinto’s robust +physique, was highly amusing. +</p> +<p> +Yet, illuminating as his verbal fencing match with +the patrolman had been, it had merely confirmed +suspicions already firmly rooted in the Phantom’s +mind. As yet he had not a single iota of concrete +evidence, and there were several snarled threads that +had to be untangled before he could accomplish +much. For instance, there was the mystery surrounding +the murder of Mrs. Trippe and the equally +perplexing riddle of what had become of the body. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_135'></a>135</span> +Both of them must be solved before he could go far +toward attaining his object. +</p> +<p> +He stopped, noticing that his mental processes had +guided his steps toward the Gage house. It was still +drizzling, and he was tired and hungry and wet, but +the problem on which he was engaged drove all +thought of rest and food from his mind. The blackness +overhead was slowly breaking into a leaden +gray, and from all directions came sounds of awakening +life. He walked up to the door, believing that +the answers to the questions that troubled him were +to be found inside the house. +</p> +<p> +Then, out of the shadows, as it seemed to him, +came an undersized creature with a slouching gait +and glittering cat’s eyes peering out from beneath +the wide brim of a soft hat. The Phantom felt a +slight touch on his elbow, and for an instant the +sharply gleaming eyes scanned his face, then the +queer-looking character shuffled away as swiftly and +silently as he had appeared. +</p> +<p> +The Phantom was tempted to follow, but just then +he noticed that a piece of paper was cramped between +his fingers. He unfolded it and examined it +in the meager light. All he could see at first was +something crude and shapeless sketched with pencil, +but gradually the blur dissolved into a symbol which +he recognized. +</p> +<p> +It was a ducal coronet. The Phantom smiled as +he looked down at the emblem of his old rival and +enemy, the Duke. The paper handed him by the +curious messenger was a reminder that the hand of +his antagonist was reaching out for him, that though +the Duke himself was in prison, his henchmen and +agents were active, being at this very moment on the +Phantom’s trail. +</p> +<p> +He put the paper into his pocket, and in the same +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_136'></a>136</span> +moment the amused smile faded from his lips. For +a time he had forgotten that, to all practical purposes, +he was no longer the Gray Phantom, but one +Thomas Granger, journalist. His lips tightened as +again he gazed at the tracings on the paper. Did it +mean that the Duke’s emissaries had seen through +his disguise and alias, or did it mean—his figure stiffened +as the latter question flashed in his mind—that +Thomas Granger was a member of the Duke’s band? +</p> +<p> +In vain he pondered the problem, unable to decide +whether the paper had been intended for himself +or for Granger. If for himself, it seemed a somewhat +idle and meaningless gesture on the Duke’s +part, for his old enemy surely could gain nothing by +sending cryptic messages to him. On the other hand, +assuming that the reporter was the intended recipient, +what hidden meaning was Granger supposed to +read into a ducal coronet? +</p> +<p> +He tried to dismiss the problem from his mind +until he could have a talk with Granger, but thoughts +of the mysterious message and the strange messenger +pursued him as he once more turned to the door. +The entrance to the store was padlocked, but the +lock on the side door yielded readily to manipulation +with one of the tools in his metal case. A quick +glance to left and right assured him he was unobserved. +Closing the door and taking out his electric +flash, which he had transferred among other things +to the suit he was now wearing, he ran up the steep +and creaking stairs. +</p> +<p> +He stood in a long and narrow hall. At one end +was a stairway, presumably leading to the store +below, and along the sides of the corridor were three +doors. Opening one of them, he played the electric +beam over the interior, for he did not think it safe +to turn on the light. It was a small, tidily furnished +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_137'></a>137</span> +bedroom, and the prevalence of feminine touches +hinted that it had been occupied by the housekeeper. +In the neatness and immaculateness of things there +was not the slightest suggestion of tragedy, and he +looked in vain for a sign that the occupant had been +snatched from a humdrum life to a horrible death. +</p> +<p> +Yet, as his eyes flitted over the room, he felt a +vague and haunting sense of oppression. It must be +the air, he thought, which was heavy and stale, as +if the window had not been opened for several days. +The note handed him by the queer messenger was +still a disturbing factor in his thoughts, and he took +it from his pocket and examined it in the light of his +flash. +</p> +<p> +At first he saw nothing but the crude pencil tracings +in which he recognized the emblem of the Duke, +but presently, as he gave closer attention to the outlines +of the design, he detected tiny waves and jags +that impressed him as being there for a purpose. He +placed his magnifying lens between the electric flash +and the paper, and now the uneven strokes dissolved +into uncouth but fairly legible letters. He chuckled +as he perceived that the Duke, always a lover of the +theatrical, was in the habit of communicating with +his agents by means of writing that had to be read +through a magnifying lens. +</p> +<p> +Quickly he deciphered the script hidden in the +ornate tracings. His face grew hard as a welter of +ideas and suspicions surged through his mind. The +message read: +</p> +<p> + Traitors sometimes die. Report at once.<br /> +</p> +<p> +The six words seemed to throb with a sinister +meaning. They started a long train of thoughts in +the Phantom’s mind. For one thing, they proved +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_138'></a>138</span> +that the message was intended for Granger, since +there was no reason why the Duke should accuse the +Gray Phantom of treachery. They also made it +clear that the reporter was a member of the Duke’s +new organization and that by some faithless act he +had incurred the displeasure of the leaders of the +band. +</p> +<p> +The Phantom loathed a traitor, but the Duke himself +was no stickler for fair methods, and that a +member of his gang should have been caught in a +perfidious act was not particularly surprising. As +the Phantom saw it, the chief importance of his discovery +lay in the fact that he was still laboring under +a serious handicap. He had thought that in assuming +the guise of a newspaper reporter he would insure +himself against molestation from all sides, but +now it appeared that the man whose identity he had +borrowed was an object of suspicion and possible +vengeance. The threat in the first sentence of the +message was clear and to the point. +</p> +<p> +He scowled darkly at the message, then folded it +carefully and put it in his pocket. He still had an +advantage, he told himself, for he was safe so far +as the police were concerned. What he had to guard +against was the stealthy machinations and intrigues +of the Duke’s band. On the whole, it was fortunate +that the note had fallen into his possession, for forewarned +was forearmed. Increased alertness and a +few extra precautions would see him clear of the +pitfalls. +</p> +<p> +Extinguishing his flash, he left the room and descended +the stairs at the end of the hall, emerging +behind the counter in the front of the store. He +walked down the narrow aisle between the show case +and the shelves that lined the wall. The door to +Gage’s bedroom was unlocked, and he entered. A +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_139'></a>139</span> +shaft of gray light slanting in beneath the window +shade gave blurry outlines to the objects in the room. +He passed to the window and pulled the curtain +aside. It was a dull, bleak dawn, as dismal and +gray as the one that had greeted him twenty-four +hours ago when he crawled out of the tunnel. +</p> +<p> +His inspection of the room shed not the faintest +ray of light on the questions in his mind. He +searched carefully, sweeping the dark corners with +his flash, but nothing appeared to have been touched +since his last visit. Of the tragedy he had witnessed, +not the slightest sign was to be found. Yet the scene +was so vividly impressed on his mind that he felt as +though the very walls were alive with the echoes of +the dying woman’s groans. He could still see the +quickly moving hand that had held the knife. +</p> +<p> +“Whose hand?” he asked. It had been a mere +flash, and, as far as he could recall, there had been +nothing distinctive about it. It was not likely he +would recognize the hand if he should see it a second +time; yet the question was already settled in his +mind. The housekeeper herself had given him the +answer to it in the few words she had gasped out +just before the blow was struck: +</p> +<p> +“He’s killing me! He’s afraid I’ll tell!” +</p> +<p> +She had referred to Pinto, of course, for her previous +words and looks, the Gray Phantom thought, +had clearly shown that she suspected the policeman +of having murdered her employer. It was a safe inference, +then, that Pinto had slain the housekeeper +in order to seal her lips forever, and the Phantom +wondered whether the patrolman was not also responsible +for the barricade at the end of the tunnel. +It seemed plausible enough. Pinto must have known +that there had been a witness to his deed, though he +probably did not know that this witness had seen +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_140'></a>140</span> +only a hand and a knife. It was even possible that +the policeman had seen more of the Phantom than +the Phantom had seen of him. At any rate, he was +doubtless aware that the housekeeper’s words had +been addressed to someone hidden in the opening +back of the revolving frame. Fearing that this +person would betray him, he had quickly slammed +the frame into place, after which he had run around +to Doctor Bimble’s cellar and blocked the mouth of +the passage, intending that the witness to his crime +should smother to death. +</p> +<p> +So much seemed clear; at least it furnished a +hypothesis in the light of which the strange events +of the night before were explainable. The only +puzzling factor in the situation was the disappearance +of the body. The Phantom, cudgel his wits as +he might, could see no other solution than that the +murderer must have removed it. No one else would +have been likely to do so. If the body had been +found by anyone else the matter would have been +promptly reported to the police, and without doubt +another crime would have been chalked up against +the Gray Phantom. Scanning the mystery from +every angle, the Phantom could see no other explanation +than that the body had been concealed by +the murderer. +</p> +<p> +“But why?” he asked himself. So far as he could +see, the murderer could have had no reason for covering +up the crime, which in the absence of contrary +proof would have been imputed to the Gray Phantom. +The police and the press would have jumped +instantly to the conclusion that the arch-rogue had +followed up the killing of Gage with the murder of +the housekeeper, and their fertile brains could easily +have invented several plausible motives. This, to +all appearances, would have suited the murderer to +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_141'></a>141</span> +perfection. Why, then, had he gone out of his way +to keep the crime secret? +</p> +<p> +The Phantom’s mind churned the problem for several +minutes before the answer came to him. As is +often the case, it was so ludicrously simple that he +wondered why he had not seen it at once. +</p> +<p> +“Clear as daylight!” he decided. “The murderer +knew the crime couldn’t be fastened on me, because +I had an alibi. I was in jail, so to speak, when the +murder was committed. Of course, I was in jail only +by proxy, the real prisoner being Tommie Granger, +but the murderer didn’t know that until later. He +thought I was locked up, and that was enough for +him.” +</p> +<p> +The Phantom backed out of the room. His visit +to the scene of the two murders had helped him to +clarify certain problems, but he had accomplished +nothing definite. His suspicions in regard to Pinto +had become stronger, but as yet he had not a shred +of actual proof against the man. He considered +what his next step should be as he walked across +the store and started up the stairs. For several +reasons, he decided, he must have a talk with Thomas +Granger at once. +</p> +<p> +He paused for an instant outside the housekeeper’s +bedroom, then walked on to the next door, +which opened into a kitchen. The third door, the +one farthest down the hall, gave access to a large +room, and the tall tiers of boxes and packing cases +indicated that Gage had used it for storage purposes. +Abstractedly he let the gleam of his electric flash +glide over the floor and the long, jagged cracks in +the begrimed ceiling. He was looking for nothing +in particular, and apparently there was nothing to +find. +</p> +<p> +Yet, as he started to walk out, something held +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_142'></a>142</span> +him. He could not analyze the sensation at first, but +it was one he had experienced before, and it was +associated in his mind with dreadful and awe-inspiring +things. He could not name it, but it gave +him the impression that he stood in the presence of +death. +</p> +<p> +He started forward, but of a sudden he checked +himself and listened intently to sounds coming from +the direction of the stairs. They were short, creaking, +and irregular sounds, like those produced by a +heavy man when he tries to walk lightly, and they +gave the Phantom an impression of hesitancy and +furtiveness. +</p> +<p> +The stealthy footfalls drew nearer. Quietly the +Phantom pushed the door shut, took the pistol from +his pocket, and stepped behind a row of packing +cases. The footsteps were now almost at the door. +An interval of silence came, as if the person outside +were hesitating before he entered, then the door +came open and a dark shape prowled across the floor. +</p> +<h2><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_143'></a>143</span>CHAPTER XVI—THE OTHER LINK</h2> +<p> +The room was in total darkness save for a tiny +sliver of light filtering in through a crack between +the packing cases stacked against the +window. The prowler advanced gropingly after +closing the door behind him, and from time to time +he cleared his throat with little rasping sounds, as +some persons do when laboring under intense excitement. +</p> +<p> +The Phantom, wedged in a narrow opening between +two rows of boxes, presently heard a faint +scraping, as if the intruder were passing his hand +back and forth in search of a light switch. All he +could see was a shadow moving hither and thither +in the gloom, but the prowler’s quick breathing and +jerky footsteps told that, whatever might be his +errand, he was going about it in a state of great +trepidation. +</p> +<p> +A sudden flash of light caused the Phantom to +press hard against the wall, for he wished to ascertain +the other’s business before making his presence +known. He judged from the sounds made by the +prowler that he must be at the opposite side of the +room, and a succession of loud, creaking noises indicated +that he was dragging some of the cases away +from the wall. After a little the sounds ceased and +the only audible thing was the prowler’s hard panting, +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_144'></a>144</span> +mingling now and then with a low, hoarse +mutter. +</p> +<p> +The Phantom stood very still. A curious feeling +was stealing over him. It was the same weird and +oppressive sensation he had experienced shortly after +entering the room, but now it was more pronounced, +filling him with a sense of awe which he could not +understand. +</p> +<p> +The prowler’s footfalls, moving toward the door, +broke the spell. The Phantom, casting off the uncomfortable +sensation with a shrug of his shoulders, +stepped out from his hiding place just as a hand +gripped the doorknob. +</p> +<p> +“Hello, Pinto!” He spoke in a drawl, toying +carelessly with his pistol. Out of the corner of an +eye he slanted a look at an object lying on the floor. +It had not been there when he entered. +</p> +<p> +The patrolman’s face had been white even before +he spoke; now it was ashen and ghastly. His eyes, +wide with horror, bored into the Phantom’s face. +Several times he moistened his twitching lips before +he was able to speak. +</p> +<p> +“Where did you co—come from?” he gasped. +</p> +<p> +“Why, nowhere in particular. Just taking a walk. +Changed my mind about going home. But don’t +look at me as if I was a ghost. Makes me nervous. +Great heavens, what’s this?” +</p> +<p> +He started at the grewsome heap on the floor as if +he had just now chanced to cast eye upon it. Pinto +made a heroic effort to steady himself. His quavering +gaze moved reluctantly toward the motionless +form lying a few feet from where he stood. +</p> +<p> +“That’s—that’s Mrs. Trippe,” he announced, +twisting his head and working his Adam’s apple as +if on the point of choking. +</p> +<p> +“So I see.” The Phantom stepped closer to the +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_145'></a>145</span> +body, regarded it gravely for a few moments, then +lifted his narrowing gaze to the policeman’s twitching +face. “Where did it come from, Pinto?” +</p> +<p> +The officer was gradually gaining control of himself. +He took out his handkerchief and mopped his +perspiring forehead. “Awful sight—ain’t it, Granger? +I thought I heard some kind of racket just as +I was passing the house. I tried the doors, and the +one at the side was unlocked. I thought it was +queer, for I had made sure it was locked when I +passed the other time, so I ran up the stairs and +looked around. When I came in here and turned +on the light, I found that thing lying there. It broke +me all up. Fine scoop for your paper, Granger, if +you grab it before the other reporters do.” +</p> +<p> +Smiling, the Phantom looked Pinto squarely in the +eye. “Your story needs a little dressing up. It +doesn’t hang together. Maybe you would have been +able to think up a better one if your nerves hadn’t +been on the jump. For one thing, Pinto, no cop goes +into hysterics at sight of a dead body unless his conscience +is giving him the jimjams. For another, you +didn’t find the body where it is lying now. Unless +I am very much mistaken, you dragged it out from +behind those packing cases.” +</p> +<p> +He pointed to a corner of the room where several +large boxes had been displaced. The shamefaced +expression of a man caught in a clumsy lie mingled +with the look of dread in Pinto’s countenance. +</p> +<p> +“What you driving at?” he demanded with a +feeble show of bluster. +</p> +<p> +The Phantom’s mind worked quickly. In the last +fifteen minutes his suspicions in regard to Pinto had +become a certainty. The policeman’s conduct left +not a shred of doubt as to his guilt, but the evidence +the law would require was still lacking. Pinto would +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_146'></a>146</span> +soon gather his wits and invent a more plausible explanation +than the one he had just given, and on an +issue of veracity between the Gray Phantom and an +officer of the law, the latter would have all the advantages. +The Phantom, swiftly appraising the situation, +saw that his only hope lay in subtler tactics. +Perhaps by adroitly working on the policeman’s evident +pusillanimity he could induce him to make a +clean breast of it. +</p> +<p> +“The game’s up, Pinto,” he said sternly. “You +murdered Mrs. Trippe, just as you murdered Gage. +Better come clean.” +</p> +<p> +A ghastly grin wrinkled the patrolman’s face. +“Think so, eh? You newspaper guys think you’re +pretty wise, don’t you? Well, what proof have you +got?” +</p> +<p> +For answer the Phantom decided on a random +thrust. He took a pencil and a sheet of paper from +his pocket and, placing his pistol on a packing case, +roughly sketched a ducal coronet. He held the design +close to the patrolman’s eyes. +</p> +<p> +Pinto glanced at the sketch. With a hoarse cry +he shrank back a step, but in a moment, by an exertion +of will power, he had partly mastered his emotion. +He guffawed loudly. +</p> +<p> +“Looks like a crow’s nest to me,” he gibed. +</p> +<p> +“You recognized it just the same, Pinto. Your +face told me you did, so there’s no use denying it. +You’re a member of the Duke’s crew. You had +orders to kill Gage, and you did. It was fairly +clever, too, the way you arranged things so suspicion +would fall on—ahem, on the Gray Phantom. But +the housekeeper somehow saw through you. She +was wise to you. And so, fearing she might tell what +she knew and send you to the chair, you killed her, +too. Then——” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_147'></a>147</span> +</p> +<p> +“You’ve got some imagination, you have!” jeered +the policeman, struggling hard to maintain a grip on +himself. +</p> +<p> +“Then,” continued the Phantom coolly, “you carried +the body up here and hid it. Not a very clever +move, but you were scared at the time, and people +do queer things when they are panicky. You realized +the Phantom couldn’t be blamed for the murder +of Mrs. Trippe, for he was in jail when the job was +done. Anyhow, everybody thought he was, which +amounted to the same thing. You were in no condition +to reason things out, and the only safe way out +of the mess you had made seemed to be to hide the +body. It would postpone discovery of the murder +for a while and give you a chance to think. The +hiding place you picked wasn’t a very good one, but +it was the best you could find in a hurry.” +</p> +<p> +“Yeah?” taunted Pinto. “Been hitting the booze +again, ain’t you?” +</p> +<p> +“No; I’m sober for once. Well, Pinto, after our +little talk a while ago you were a bit worried. You +knew someone would find the body sooner or later, +and you thought things would look better all around +if you were the one to find it. Anyhow, there was +no reason for keeping it hidden longer after it turned +out that the police had nabbed the wrong man and +the Phantom had no alibi. I suppose if I hadn’t +stopped you when I did, you would now be at the +telephone reporting your discovery to the station +house.” +</p> +<p> +As he spoke, the Phantom studied every change of +expression in the other’s face. Pinto winced as if +each word had been a needle prick, but he seemed to +be drawing on a reserve force of fortitude, for his +courage was rising rather than ebbing. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_148'></a>148</span> +</p> +<p> +“After pulling all that dream stuff,” he said sneeringly, +“mebbe you’ll come across with the evidence.” +</p> +<p> +“Sure thing.” The Phantom’s tones belied his +crumbling hopes. He realized he had no evidence, +and Pinto showed no signs of breaking down. “If +what I’ve said doesn’t hit the bull’s-eye, why did you +sneak in here and drag the body out from behind +the packing cases? You seemed to be making a bee +line for it. How did you know it was there?” +</p> +<p> +“So that’s what you call evidence!” Pinto sneered. +“I guess if it comes down to brass tacks, my word’s +as good as yours. Now that you’ve got all that +stuff off your chest, mebbe you’ll answer a question +or two, and you might begin by telling what you’re +doing here yourself.” +</p> +<p> +“A reporter goes everywhere.” +</p> +<p> +“Reporter—huh! You’ve been on the Sphere +four weeks, and soused half the time. You came +here from Kansas City. You worked on a newspaper +there only a week or two, according to the +dope the department got. Seems you’ve been tramping +around a lot in your days. Mebbe you’re an +honest-to-goodness reporter, and mebbe you’re not. +I’ve got a hunch of my own.” +</p> +<p> +“Let’s hear it,” said the Phantom lightly, though +inwardly he felt somewhat uneasy. Pinto’s gaze, +constantly searching his face, was growing keener +with every passing moment. +</p> +<p> +“Well, it looks mighty queer to me that you +showed up in this burg just a few weeks ahead of +the Phantom, especially since you two look so much +alike. What’s queerer still is that you got pinched +the other day just when the Phantom was as good +as caught in the net. He would have been hauled in +if you hadn’t been grabbed by mistake.” +</p> +<p> +“So, that’s it.” The Phantom chuckled amusedly. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_149'></a>149</span> +“Just because it happened that way, you’re thinking +that I am acting as a foil for the Gray Phantom.” +</p> +<p> +“You got me just right, Granger. I’m thinking +that, though I’m not saying much about it yet. +Here’s another little thing I’d like to get your +opinion on.” He came a step closer, looked hard at +the Phantom, and put the question sharply. “What’s +become of Helen Hardwick?” +</p> +<p> +“He-Helen Hardwick?” The Phantom stood +rigid, mouth gaping and eyes staring. +</p> +<p> +“She’s the one. They say the Phantom has a +crush on her and that it was on her account he +handed the Duke that wallop some months ago. +She’s supposed——” +</p> +<p> +The Phantom, his face deathly white, clutched +Pinto’s arm in a grip that made the policeman +squirm. “What about Miss Hardwick?” he demanded +hoarsely. “Has anything happened to her? +Speak, man!” +</p> +<p> +Pinto freed his arm and gave him a searching +look. “All I know is that she’s missing, and I +thought mebbe you——” +</p> +<p> +“Missing?” echoed the Phantom sharply. “What +do you mean? Speak up!” +</p> +<p> +In his excitement he did not see that the look of +perplexity in Pinto’s eyes had given way to a cunning +twinkle. In another moment the policeman had +acted with a precision and a swiftness that indicated +he was a far shrewder man that his looks led one +to think. In an instant the pistol had been beaten +from the Phantom’s numb hand and in the space of +a few seconds a steel link was gyved around his wrist. +</p> +<p> +“There, Mr. Gray Phantom!” exclaimed the policeman +with a triumphant chuckle. “I guess you +won’t get away from me this time!” +</p> +<p> +The Phantom, at last sensing his danger, jumped +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_150'></a>150</span> +to one side, but already the other link was fastened +around the policeman’s wrist. Pinto’s words regarding +Helen Hardwick had stunned him momentarily, +and he had not seen his peril until it was too late. +Now he was a prisoner, handcuffed to his captor! +</p> +<p> +“This is more like it!” exclaimed the policeman, +kicking aside the pistol his prisoner had dropped and +shoving his own weapon against the Phantom’s diaphragm. +“I’ve had a hunch all along that, if you +weren’t the Phantom himself, you were his alibi. I’m +wise now, all right. You gave yourself away when +I spoke the name of the moll. You turned white to +the gills and almost jumped out of your shoes. Guess +you forgot to play your rôle that time, Mr. Phantom. +Granger, not being in love with the lady, +wouldn’t have thrown a fit like that. Well, we’re +off for the station. You can hand ’em the spiel you +gave me, and see how much they believe of it.” +</p> +<p> +“Before we start, tell me what you know of Miss +Hardwick,” pleaded the Phantom, for his own plight +still seemed of secondary importance. +</p> +<p> +Pinto shrugged his shoulders. “She’s vamoosed; +that’s all I know. Come along. Mebbe she’ll drop +in and see you when you’re in jail.” +</p> +<p> +“Jail!” He braced his weight against the pull at +his wrist. “I’m not going to jail—not while Miss +Hardwick’s in trouble. You may be a little stronger +than I, Pinto, but I’m in better trim, and you can’t +budge me.” +</p> +<p> +The policeman tore at the link, but in vain. The +Phantom dropped to the floor, dug his heels into a +crack between two boards, and resisted with all his +might. Pinto puffed and cursed, but he might as +well have tried to lift himself by his own boot straps, +and his efforts were further hampered by the necessity +of keeping the pistol aimed with his free hand. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_151'></a>151</span> +The glint in his captive’s eyes hinted that he was +but waiting for a chance to land a blow with his fist +between the policeman’s eyes. +</p> +<p> +“Say, what’s the use stalling?” argued Pinto, resorting +to diplomacy while regaining his breath. +“The game’s up.” +</p> +<p> +The Phantom knew it, but he was playing for +time. Some unexpected turn might yet reverse the +situation and give him the upper hand. +</p> +<p> +“You’re done for, and you know it,” said the policeman +impressively. “Might as well give in.” +</p> +<p> +“Wrong, Pinto. You seem convinced that I’m +the Gray Phantom, and you ought to know that the +Phantom never gives in. I can sit here as long as +you can. Don’t you think we had better compromise?” +</p> +<p> +“Compromise—your grandmother!” grumbled +Pinto. “You’ll never get out of this.” +</p> +<p> +Still pointing the muzzle at his prisoner, he +brought the butt of the weapon close to one of his +pockets. Two fingers reached down and extracted +a police whistle, and in an instant it was between his +lips, giving forth a shrill blast. He waited expectantly +for a few moments. Again and again the +whistle shrieked, but no response came. +</p> +<p> +The Phantom grinned. “The acoustics are not +all that might be desired. The windows are closed, +and there are several heavy walls between here and +the street. I fear, Pinto, that your lung power is +going to waste.” +</p> +<p> +Disgustedly Pinto dropped the whistle. He considered +for a moment, then a grim smile lit up his +face. +</p> +<p> +“You’ve sung your last tune, Mr. Phantom,” he +muttered. “There’s always a way to handle the +likes of you.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_152'></a>152</span> +</p> +<p> +As he spoke, he quickly shifted his hold on the +pistol, and in another moment the handle crashed +down on the prisoner’s head. Of a sudden the Phantom +felt himself grow limp. A laugh broke hoarsely +through the gloom that descended upon him. He +heard a voice, but it sounded faint and remote, as +if coming to him across a vast chasm. +</p> +<p> +“Guess you won’t get out of <em>that!</em>” +</p> +<p> +Then, miles away, a door slammed. He exerted +a supreme effort to shake off the numbness brought +on by the unexpected blow. His eyes fluttered open. +His mind struggled out of the blinding haze. The +light was still on, and his staring eyes flitted slowly +about the room. It seemed only a moment ago that +the door had slammed. Pinto was nowhere in sight, +and for a moment he wondered at this. +</p> +<p> +Then, his mind clearing, it came to him that the +policeman had gone out to summon assistance. He +had had his lesson, and this time he was taking no +chances with so dangerous and elusive a prisoner as +the Gray Phantom. Doubtless he would be back +in a few moments, and then—— +</p> +<p> +He raised himself to a sitting posture. A hideous +recollection electrified his body and mind. Helen +Hardwick was missing, Pinto had said. Perhaps she +was in trouble; perhaps some desperate danger confronted +her. He must find her at once, and he must +get out of the room before Pinto returned with +reënforcements. +</p> +<p> +He tried to rise, but something restrained him. +It was the steel link around his wrist. Only a moment +ago, so it seemed, the other link had been +fastened to Pinto’s hand. Now—— +</p> +<p> +A groan of horror broke from his lips as he saw +the thing to which he was linked by a band of steel. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_153'></a>153</span> +Pinto had, indeed, taken no chances. Even if the +Phantom could get out of the room, his hand would +be chained to the cold, dead hand of the housekeeper. +</p> +<h2><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_154'></a>154</span>CHAPTER XVII—THE DUKE’S MESSENGER</h2> +<p> +In vain the Phantom spurred his wits to find a way +out, but the thought that hurt him most was +that he was helpless at a moment when Helen +Hardwick might be in danger. +</p> +<p> +What had happened to her? His imagination pictured +one fearful possibility after another. The one +that seemed most likely was that the Duke’s agents, +aware of the Phantom’s interest in the girl, had lured +her into a trap. The Duke, thorough and artful in +all things, could be depended upon to miss no opportunity +to make his revenge complete. +</p> +<p> +He tried to clear his mind of harrowing surmises. +His situation was desperate, and now as never before +he needed to think coolly and act quickly. At any +moment Pinto might return, and the seconds were +precious. The thought that sustained him was that +his wits had never yet failed him in an emergency, +and that always in the past he had contrived to +squeeze out of tight corners by performing some +astounding feat. +</p> +<p> +Yet, was his dismal afterthought, he had never +before faced a situation quite like this. To escape +with a lifeless form gyved to his hand was out of +the question. He looked swiftly about the room, but +saw nothing that suggested a means of deliverance. +Even the pistol he had dropped had been removed +by the thoughtful Pinto. If he escaped, was his conclusion, +it would be only by a stroke of amazing luck. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_155'></a>155</span> +</p> +<p> +Suddenly, as a new thought came to him, he thrust +his free hand into his inside breast pocket. His face +brightened a little. Pinto had overlooked something, +after all. His case, with its assortment of +carefully selected tools, was still there. Evidently +Pinto had not thought it necessary to search his +pockets. He took out the little box and ran his eyes +over the snugly packed implements, each of which +had been prepared with a definite purpose in view. +</p> +<p> +Quickly he tried several of his sharp-pointed tools +in the locks of the handcuffs, but the mechanism was +proof against manipulation, and he soon gave up the +attempt. Next he picked out a small, fine-toothed +saw, but he realized he would only be wasting time +if he tried to cut through the chilled steel of which +the links were made. It might be done if he had +hours at his command. +</p> +<p> +A step sounded in the hall. One more hope remained. +From his case he took a small capsule, +pointed at one end and scarcely longer than a pin. +It contained a combustible powder, and the Phantom +had carried it with him for just such an emergency +as this. Now he took one of Granger’s cigarettes +from his pocket, inserted the capsule at one +end, and put the cigarette in his mouth. Then he +returned the case to his pocket and, just as the door +came open, was making an elaborate pretense of +hunting for a match. +</p> +<p> +He looked up with an air of unconcern—and in +the next instant the cigarette dropped from his gaping +lips. He had expected Pinto to walk in with +one or more of his colleagues, but instead he saw +the dwarfish creature who had handed him the paper +bearing the Duke’s emblem. +</p> +<p> +For a few moments the little man remained in the +doorway, sweeping the room with a quick, nervous +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_156'></a>156</span> +glance, then closed the door and came forward. +Mechanically the Phantom restored the cigarette to +his lips while staring at the queer intruder. The +electric light lent a yellow tinge to his shriveled face—a +face so gloomy and sour that it gave the impression +of never having been lit up by a grin. He drew +a pistol from his pocket as he approached the +Phantom. +</p> +<p> +“Well, Granger, you sure got into a mess,” he observed, +speaking in a wheezy, drawling voice. +</p> +<p> +“So it seems,” agreed the Phantom, his mind +working quickly. “Got a match?” +</p> +<p> +The weazened individual handed him one, but the +Phantom seemed in no hurry to light his cigarette. +</p> +<p> +“I kinda thought you’d get yourself in bad, the +way you carried on,” continued the little man, gazing +indifferently at the body. “Didn’t you savvy the +note I slipped you?” +</p> +<p> +“It was plain enough.” +</p> +<p> +“But you paid no more attention than if it had +been an invitation to a dog fight.” +</p> +<p> +“I didn’t think there was any great rush,” said +the Phantom cautiously. “I thought to-morrow +would be time enough.” +</p> +<p> +“Time enough? He, he! Well, you’re a queer +one, Granger. Guess you don’t know the big chief +the way I do. When he sends for you it means he +wants you right away. He’s already kinda leery +about you and— But that’s your funeral. Hope +for your sake you can square yourself with him. +It’s a lucky thing I turned back and got on your trail +after slipping you the note.” +</p> +<p> +The Phantom, wondering what had happened to +the policeman, looked uneasily at the door. +“Where’s Pinto?” he asked after a pause. +</p> +<p> +“The cop? Oh, I fixed him. Handed him one +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_157'></a>157</span> +from the rear as he was starting down the stairs, +and he never knew what struck him. Just gave a +grunt and went down like a bag of cement. You +see, I’d been standing at the door trying to get the +hang of the gabfest between you and him. I couldn’t +hear much—only a word now and then—but when +the door opens and the cop walks out I know there’s +trouble, and so I hand him one on the bean. Say, +how much is that cop wise to?” +</p> +<p> +“Eh?” The Phantom stared for an instant, uncertain +how he should play his rôle, but he quickly +grasped the threads of the situation. “Oh, Pinto is +away off on his hunches. Hasn’t the least idea I’m +one of your gang, but thinks I am dragging a red +herring across the Phantom’s trail. Rich—what?” +</p> +<p> +The other chuckled mirthlessly. “I’ll say it is. +Well, the cop won’t do any talking for quite a long +stretch, and when he comes to things will be kind +of hazy in his coco. You’d better come along with +me and make your spiel to the big chief. You’ll +have to do some tall explaining, and, unless you can +square yourself, you may wish the cop had got you.” +</p> +<p> +There was an ugly smirk on the man’s lips and he +spoke the last words as if gloating over the ordeal +in store for the other. +</p> +<p> +The Phantom shrugged his shoulders. “I can +explain things to the big chief. What worries me +is the bracelet on my wrist!” +</p> +<p> +“I’ll get the key out of the cop’s pocket,” announced +the little man. +</p> +<p> +The Phantom gazed after him as he left the room. +A little while ago he had told himself that only a +stroke of magic could save him, and the weazened +creature’s appearance at the crucial moment seemed +almost miraculous. Yet he looked a trifle dubious. +</p> +<p> +“I’m coming out of the fire,” he mumbled, “but I +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_158'></a>158</span> +haven’t the least idea what the frying pan will be +like. The little rat may be hard to shake, and Pinto +will spoil my alibi as soon as he comes out of oblivion.” +</p> +<p> +The small man returned and tossed a metallic +object at the Phantom’s feet, then stood aside, with +pistol leveled, while the handcuffs were being unlocked. +His sharp eyes followed every move the +Phantom made, but evidently there was not the +faintest suspicion in his mind as to the identity of +the man with whom he was dealing. In all likelihood +he knew Granger but slightly and had never +seen much of him. +</p> +<p> +“There!” exclaimed the Phantom as the link +around his wrist parted. “Pinto will be the most +surprised cop in creation when he walks in here and +finds the bird flown. I’m dying for a smoke.” +</p> +<p> +He rose to his feet and struck the match, glancing +narrowly at the other as he lighted his cigarette. +There was a look of habitual alertness in the little +man’s glittering eyes, and the pistol in his hand more +than equalized his physical disadvantage. +</p> +<p> +“Look here, Granger,” he said in harsh, wheezy +tones, “I don’t quite know how to size you up, but +you and the chief are going to have a chat directly. +I’m putting my gat inside my pocket—like this. I’ll +have my finger on the trigger all the time, so you’d +better watch your step. We’re off.” +</p> +<p> +He motioned the Phantom to start. With a hard +pull on his cigarette, the Phantom drew in all the +smoke his mouth could hold, strolled forward with +an easy swagger, and, turning abruptly on the little +man, blew a cloud of smoke into his face. +</p> +<p> +The victim gasped, spluttered, and choked, then +was seized with an attack of sneezing that racked his +sides and convulsed his entire body. Spasm after +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_159'></a>159</span> +spasm shook the puny figure until the little man was +quite exhausted. Covering his nose and mouth, the +Phantom stepped behind him and snatched the pistol +from his pocket. +</p> +<p> +“The sneezing powder worked even better than +the last time I tried it,” he observed with a chuckle. +</p> +<p> +“Ker-choooo!” was the other’s explosive comment. +“Ker-chooooo!” +</p> +<p> +Slowly the acrid fumes drifted toward the ceiling. +The little man, with tears streaming from his red-lidded +eyes, lurched toward one of the rows of +packing cases and leaned against it. The smoke was +scattering, but repeated fits of sneezing were still +jolting his frame. +</p> +<p> +The Phantom smothered the cigarette under his +heel. A simple trick had turned the situation in his +favor, but now he faced another problem. How to +dispose of the little man and Pinto was a poser. +The former did not worry him, for he had bungled +his job miserably, and silence and discretion were +highly esteemed virtues in the Duke’s organization. +</p> +<p> +It was different with Pinto. The policeman had +seen through the Phantom’s disguise. Immediately +upon recovering consciousness he would report that +the Phantom was masquerading as Thomas +Granger, and that would be the end of the ruse. +The personality he had borrowed would no longer +protect the Phantom, and he would once more be +a hunted man and obliged to watch his step at every +turn. +</p> +<p> +On the other hand, it was just possible Pinto +would not tell what he had discovered. The policeman +had a bad conscience, and that in itself made a +difference. Besides, the Phantom had twice slipped +out of his hands and he had achieved nothing +whereof he could boast. His pride and his conscience, +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_160'></a>160</span> +each a powerful factor, would be very likely +to seal his lips. +</p> +<p> +Suddenly he smiled. To make doubly sure, he +would provide Pinto with a third motive for maintaining +silence. Without doubt the policeman +shared the average man’s fear of ridicule, and the +Phantom could work on that. +</p> +<p> +The sneezings had ceased. The victim, looking +as though every ounce of strength had been drained +from him, peered vacantly at the Phantom while +the latter removed the second link from the dead +woman’s hand. Exhausted by the sneezing fits and +deprived of his weapon, he was as helpless as a +snake stripped of its poisonous glands. +</p> +<p> +“Put your hands behind you,” directed the Phantom. +</p> +<p> +The little man made as if inclined to resist, but +thought better of it and obediently put his hands +at his back. He uttered a feeble yawp as one of the +links was clasped about his wrist. With the other +in his hand, the Phantom led him from the room +and turned toward the stairs. A dark, inert heap +lay at the head of the stairway, with legs sprawling +over the steps. It was Pinto. +</p> +<p> +“Sit down,” ordered the Phantom. +</p> +<p> +The puny man looked about him dazedly, then +sat down on the top step, uttering a weak protest +as he found himself handcuffed to the unconscious +man. +</p> +<p> +The Phantom examined Pinto’s head. A large +swelling at the back told that the little man had put +far more force behind the blow than one would have +thought it possible for such a dwarfish creature to +exert. The pulse was weak and fluttering, and the +eyes had a rigid and glassy look. The Phantom +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_161'></a>161</span> +had known of similar cases in which the victims had +remained unconscious for days, and many things +might happen before Pinto’s mind and tongue were +functioning again. Upon awakening and being told +that he had been found handcuffed to a rat of the +underworld, the policeman, already troubled by an +evil conscience and wounded self-respect, would +hardly invite the taunts and jeers of his fellow officers +by going into exact details. At any rate, the +Phantom felt he was playing his best card. +</p> +<p> +“Say, Granger,” whined the little man, “ain’t going +to leave me like this, are you? Not after I got +you out of the fix you were in?” +</p> +<p> +“It is a bit rough on you, I admit, but you will +have to make the best of it. Your reasons for getting +me out of the scrape weren’t entirely unselfish. +I believe it was your intention to put me on the +carpet before the big chief.” +</p> +<p> +The other jerked his head in the direction of the +storeroom. “They’ll say I croaked that woman in +there,” he muttered. +</p> +<p> +“Not a chance. Examination of the body will +show that the murder was committed more than +twenty-four hours ago. What they probably will +think is that Pinto caught you in the act of robbery +and that you assaulted him after he had handcuffed +you to him. One guess will be about as good as +another, though, and you will have to lie yourself +out of the mess somehow. I wish you luck.” +</p> +<p> +He started down the stairs, but in the middle he +stopped and looked back. What if Pinto should +never recover consciousness? If he should die before +the two murder mysteries were fully cleared +up, the Phantom’s efforts to exculpate himself would +encounter a serious hindrance. But nothing was to +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_162'></a>162</span> +be gained by worrying over what might happen, he +told himself, and just now he had something far +more serious to think about. His fears concerning +Helen overshadowed all other things. +</p> +<p> +He went out onto the street. The morning was +far advanced and the sun was struggling through a +curtain of scattering clouds. The glaring headlines +of the morning papers spread out on the news stands +at the corner told how the Phantom, after having +been seen at an elevated railway station the night +before, had once more slipped through the dragnet. +After a brief glance at the introductory paragraphs, +he crossed the street and entered the telephone booth +in the rear of a drug store. There he consulted the +directory and called the number of the Hardwick +residence. +</p> +<p> +A woman, evidently a servant, answered. The +Phantom announced that he was a reporter on the +<em>Sphere</em> and wished to speak with the master of the +house. After a few moments’ wait a masculine voice +came over the wire. It trembled a little, as if its +owner was trying to control an intense excitement. +Mr. Hardwick was at first unwilling to discuss the +matter, but after repeated urgings admitted that he +had requested the police to search for his daughter, +who had been missing for two days. She had left +home without explanations of any kind, and nothing +had been heard from her since. As it was entirely +unlike her to go away for any length of time without +notifying her father, Mr. Hardwick feared +something had happened to her. +</p> +<p> +The Phantom’s face had a blank look as he +emerged from the booth. He remembered Miss +Hardwick’s sudden and mysterious disappearance +from Doctor Bimble’s laboratory. Something must +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_163'></a>163</span> +have befallen her after leaving the scientist’s house, +and the fact that she had not communicated with her +father was disquieting. +</p> +<p> +He went out on the sidewalk and turned toward +the corner. Of a sudden he was all caution and +alertness. Someone was watching him. +</p> +<h2><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_164'></a>164</span>CHAPTER XVIII—THE STARTING POINT</h2> +<p> +The Phantom feigned utter unconcern as he +continued toward the corner. His acute senses +had instantly registered the fact that he was +an object of scrutiny. It vexed him not a little, for +he was anxious to get on Helen Hardwick’s trail, +and he had no relish for another adventure with the +police. He looked about him out of the tail of an +eye as he advanced with a leisurely swing. +</p> +<p> +It took him but a few moments to pick out the +watcher from among the sprinkling of loungers and +pedestrians on the sidewalk. The man’s dull face +and stolid expression did not deceive the Phantom +for a moment. He stood with his back against a +shop window, and part of his face was hidden by a +newspaper he pretended to be reading. The Phantom +walked up beside him. +</p> +<p> +“You’re a detective, aren’t you?” +</p> +<p> +The man lowered the newspaper and gazed at the +questioner out of deceptively sluggish eyes. +</p> +<p> +“What makes you think so?” +</p> +<p> +The Phantom chuckled, though he knew he was +treading on dangerous ground. It was just possible +that Granger, although he had not been long +in the city and therefore could not have an extensive +police acquaintance, had met this particular detective. +A careful study of the man’s face reassured +him, however. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_165'></a>165</span> +</p> +<p> +“Oh, I spotted you easily enough,” was his answer. +“I suppose you have heard of me. I am +Thomas Granger, of the <em>Sphere</em>.” +</p> +<p> +The other gave a slight nod. A faint grin creased +his face. “I’ve heard of you, all right. On the day +you were pinched, they tell me, you had the beautifulest +jag on that’s been seen in this town in many +a day. Why don’t you put a fellow wise to your +source of supply?” +</p> +<p> +“I may,” with a knowing wink, “if you promise +not to jug me again.” +</p> +<p> +“Well, you needn’t rub it in, Granger. You look +a lot like the Gray Phantom. If you didn’t have +those glad rags on, I wouldn’t be able to tell the +difference. I never met the Phantom face to face, +but judging from his picture I should say you’re as +much alike as two peas. By the way, my name is +Culligore—Lieutenant Culligore.” +</p> +<p> +The Phantom repressed a start. He had seen the +name in the earlier newspaper accounts of the +murder and remembered that Culligore had been +one of the detectives assigned to the case. He wondered +whether it were possible that he and Granger +had not met while the reporter was getting the facts +of the tragedy for his paper. The detective’s face +showed no sign of suspicion, but the Phantom noticed +that he had an odd habit of rubbing his upper lip +against the tip of his nose, and the little mannerism +impressed him as significant of deep and devious +mental processes. +</p> +<p> +“That reminds me!” he exclaimed suddenly, as if +just recalling something. “There’s been a brand-new +murder committed over at the Gage house.” +</p> +<p> +The detective lifted his brows. +</p> +<p> +“I was snooping around, hoping to find some new +twist to the case,” explained the Phantom. “In a +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_166'></a>166</span> +storeroom on the second floor I found the body of +the housekeeper. She looked as though she had +been dead a good many hours. Pinto is lying on the +stairs with a bump on the back of his head, and he’s +handcuffed to a little shrimp that looks like a dope +fiend.” +</p> +<p> +Lieutenant Culligore stared as he heard the +strange report. “Been drinking again?” +</p> +<p> +“Go and see for yourself.” +</p> +<p> +Culligore at last showed signs of activity. “Better +come along,” he suggested. “If you’ve been telling +me the truth, there ought to be a good story in it +for you.” +</p> +<p> +“I’ve seen enough. Going back to the office to +write it up.” +</p> +<p> +The two parted. As Culligore started to cross +the street, he made a curious motion with his hand, +and the Phantom fancied he was signaling someone +on the other side. He walked briskly toward the +elevated station. Evidently Culligore had put a colleague +on his trail, thereby showing that he was not +so unsuspecting as the Phantom had thought. He +ascended the stairs and walked out onto the platform +without a single backward glance, but his ears, +trained to catch and classify the slightest sounds, +told him a pursuer was behind him. +</p> +<p> +The train, a southbound one, was crowded with +passengers. The Phantom selected a strap near the +rear end of one of the cars. The many curious +glances leveled in his direction told him he was being +recognized as the newspaper reporter who had won +fame by being mistaken for the Gray Phantom and +whose photograph had appeared side by side with +that of the notorious rogue. While ostensibly absorbed +in an advertisement, he cast a sidelong glance +at the platform of the car just ahead. The brief +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_167'></a>167</span> +glimpse sufficed to identify his pursuer as a broad-shouldered +individual in a brown suit, whose rather +commonplace features were shaded by the brim of +a derby. +</p> +<p> +The Phantom was in a quandary. He could accomplish +nothing with a “shadow” at his heels, and +there was something maddening in the thought that +he was losing time while Helen Hardwick might be +in danger. He could probably elude his pursuer +without much difficulty, but that would be a confession +that he had something to hide, and might possibly +result in his being picked up on a general alarm. +He was safe behind the personality of Thomas +Granger only so long as he did not engage in suspicious +conduct. +</p> +<p> +An idea flashed in his mind as he caught a glimpse +of the skyscrapers of City Hall Park. He would +take the bull by the horns, he decided. The safest +and surest way of averting suspicion from himself +was to play his borrowed rôle boldly and thoroughly. +He would proceed at once to the offices of the <em>Sphere</em> +and make a judiciously colored report of the latest +affair at the Gage house. It was a dangerous experiment, +but the Phantom believed he could carry +it out. A bold play, a bit of clever acting, and the +usual accompaniment of good luck were all that was +necessary. +</p> +<p> +He was still conscious of pursuit as he alighted +and turned in the direction of the <em>Sphere</em> Building. +A glance at the bulletin board in the rotunda showed +him the location of the editorial rooms, and he ascended +in the elevator. The mirrors lining the walls +of the cage threw back at him a reflection showing +signs of suspense, worry, and want of sleep. His +face was drawn and furrowed, and the usual luster +of his eyes was a trifle dimmed, but these symptoms +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_168'></a>168</span> +might also be indications of heavy drinking, and they +enhanced his resemblance to Granger. +</p> +<p> +The building throbbed with the pulsations of +presses. From above, like a continuous rattle of +shrapnel, came the din and clatter of the linotypes. +Faint odors of ink and whiffs from the sterotyping +and photo-engraving plants hung in the air. +</p> +<p> +The Phantom stepped out with a jaunty appearance, +though inwardly he was quailing a trifle. A +sign on frosted glass told him which door to enter, +and a red-haired youth presiding at a desk in an +anteroom grinned broadly as he passed through. +A dozen typewriters jabbered noisily in the room +beyond. As the Phantom walked in, a spectacled, +shirt-sleeved man seated at a desk near the entrance +looked up and regarded him with twinkling eyes. +</p> +<p> +“‘Lo, Granger,” was his good-humored greeting. +“Understand ‘Old War Horse’ tied a can to you +last night.” +</p> +<p> +“Did he?” asked the Phantom, guessing that the +individual referred to was the autocrat who had +ordered Granger bounced. “It was a large night, +and I don’t remember the minor details.” He +looked uncertainly about the room, as if his vision +was a trifle clouded. “Where is the old fire-eater? +Don’t see him around.” +</p> +<p> +“Of course, you don’t.” The spectacled man +laughed. “Old War Horse is in bed, where he belongs. +I guess you haven’t quite recovered your +bearings yet, or you’d know that Slossdick is on the +day shift. I see him looking this way, as if he had +designs on you.” +</p> +<p> +The Phantom trailed the spectacled man’s glance +to a glass-partioned cubby-hole at the other end of +the room, where a bald and sharp-nosed man sat at +a desk. He advanced airily, grinning in response to +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_169'></a>169</span> +the knowing winks and well-meant banter that followed +him, and boldly approached the scowling personage +at the desk. +</p> +<p> +“Don’t you know you’re fired?” demanded Slossdick, +jabbing at a page of “copy” with his pencil. +</p> +<p> +“Am I?” inquired the Phantom innocently. He +spoke with a little catch, as if he had a slight cold, +and he avoided the sunlight streaming in through +the window. “It hadn’t occurred to me.” +</p> +<p> +“No? Old War Horse had you kicked out, didn’t +he? You’d been insulting him again, I understand.” +Slossdick’s devastating pencil ripped an entire paragraph +out of the copy before him. “What’s biting +you this morning?” +</p> +<p> +“Nothing,” said the Phantom blandly. “Just +thought you might like to know that there’s been +another murder at the Gage house.” +</p> +<p> +The slashings of Slossdick’s pencil ceased abruptly. +He swept the Phantom’s face with a quick, searching +glance. Briefly the impostor told as much as he +thought prudent, describing the scene in the storeroom +and at the head of the stairs, without telling +of his own part in the night’s events or of Pinto’s +mysterious conduct. He was not yet ready to accuse +the policeman openly, and for the present it suited +his purpose to leave the affair vague and mysterious. +</p> +<p> +There was a flicker of interest in Slossdick’s eyes. +“Housekeeper murdered and policeman lying at the +head of the stairs handcuffed to a dope. Rattling +good yarn, Granger. But”—and a look of doubt +crept into his face—“we’ve had nothing from the +police on this.” +</p> +<p> +“Good reason. The police didn’t know of it till +a few minutes ago. If you hurry, you will beat the +other papers to it.” +</p> +<p> +Slossdick snatched up the telephone and called a +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_170'></a>170</span> +department. “First page make-over,” he snapped +when the connection had been established. Then, +turning to the Phantom: “Think you can see the +typewriter keys this morning?” +</p> +<p> +The Phantom quavered inwardly. Typewriting +was not among his accomplishments, and the entire +proceeding was strange to him. He hesitated, noticing +that the rumble of the presses had already +ceased. +</p> +<p> +“Well, never mind,” grumbled Slossdick, his +pencil already at work on an eight-column caption. +“Give the dope to Fessenden and let him write it. +Then go home and get some sleep. You look as if +you needed it. And, for the love of Mike, steer +clear of the booze! Fessenden!” +</p> +<p> +In response to the explosive shout, a lanky and +dyspeptic-looking man appeared at the door to the +cubby-hole. After receiving a few terse directions +from Slossdick, he led the Phantom to his desk and +sat down before his typewriter. He inserted a sheet +of paper in the machine while listening, and his fingers +were racing over the keys even before the Phantom +had finished his recital. +</p> +<p> +“Bully yarn you’ve turned up,” came his appreciative +comment over the clatter of the keys. “A +peach!” +</p> +<p> +The Phantom walked away. The story would, +of course, rouse another storm of indignation against +himself, but there was no help for that. On the +whole, he had bettered his chances and enhanced his +temporary safety by giving the <em>Sphere</em> a start of +twenty minutes or half an hour in its race against +competing newspapers. +</p> +<p> +His shadow was nowhere in sight as he emerged +from the building. Either the man’s suspicions had +been disarmed by the Phantom’s move, or else he had +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_171'></a>171</span> +grown tired of waiting and dropped into a near-by +restaurant for a bite of food. Standing at the curb, +the Phantom glanced stealthily to right and left. +There was no sign of espionage in either direction. +At last he was free to begin his search for Helen +Hardwick, but the trail seemed to have neither beginning +nor end. In vain he searched his mind for +a starting point. +</p> +<p> +His hands were in his pockets, and presently his +absently groping fingers touched a piece of paper. +He drew it out, starting as his eyes fell on the ducal +coronet. +</p> +<p> +“Guess I’ll see Granger,” he reflected. “I have a +strong hunch he is my starting point.” +</p> +<h2><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_172'></a>172</span>CHAPTER XIX—THE BIG STORY</h2> +<p> +“How is your guest, Peng Yuen?” was the +Phantom’s first question after entering the +shop on Pell Street. +</p> +<p> +The Chinaman’s eyes widened. “The guest? +Ah, yes, I remember. I think the gentleman is well.” +</p> +<p> +“Has he telephoned anyone, or sent out any messages?” +</p> +<p> +“No; he has remained in his room all the time. +He asked me this morning for something to read, +and I gave him a translation of ‘Chin-Kong-Ching.’” +</p> +<p> +“Good. I have come to have a talk with him.” +</p> +<p> +“Very well.” The slight figure, arrayed in loose-fitting, +straw-colored garments, stepped to the wall +with the softly gliding gait characteristic of his race. +He pressed a button, and the Phantom passed +through an opening which instantly closed behind +him. +</p> +<p> +Granger, lying on a couch, looked up drowsily. +The little room had neither windows nor visible door. +Air was wafted in through a mysterious recess in a +corner of the ceiling, and a shaded lamp shed a +greenish light over the scene. The walls were covered +with yellow satin embroidered with quotations +from Chinese philosophers. On a table standing +near the couch were the remnants of a breakfast. +</p> +<p> +“Fairly comfortable, I see.” The Phantom sat +down. His glance, though seemingly casual, was +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_173'></a>173</span> +taking in every detail of the reporter’s appearance, +“How are you feeling?” +</p> +<p> +“Rotten!” Granger rubbed his eyes and scowled +disgustedly. “I asked the chink for something to +drink, and he brought me a mess that tasted like +vinegar and molasses. Then I dropped a hint that I +would like some reading matter, and he handed me +a book that put me to sleep before I had turned the +first page. Say, how much longer are you going to +sport my clothes and wear my name?” +</p> +<p> +“No longer than I have to. Your name suits +me well enough, but our tastes in clothes differ.” +</p> +<p> +Granger grinned. He was comfortably stretched +out on his back and his eyes were lazily studying the +arabesques in the ceiling. +</p> +<p> +“Anyhow, my clothes are harmless. That’s more +than can be said for my name. On the square, I am +surprised to see you this morning.” +</p> +<p> +“Why so?” +</p> +<p> +There was a twinkle in the reporter’s eyes as he +turned them on the Phantom. “Because you went +in for a lot of trouble when you annexed my identity. +I was pickled last night, and you took my breath +away when you yanked off the mustache. Till then +I hadn’t had the faintest idea that my abductor was +the Gray Phantom. If I hadn’t been so flabbergasted +I might have given you a friendly tip.” +</p> +<p> +“A tip?” +</p> +<p> +“To the effect that Tommie Granger was a +marked man. I’ll tell you something interesting if +you promise not to fall out of the chair. I am a +member of the Duke’s gang.” +</p> +<p> +The Phantom’s brows went up. For several +hours he had been aware of Granger’s membership +in the criminal organization, but the glib admission +surprised him. He had intended to pull the Duke’s +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_174'></a>174</span> +communication out of his pocket with a dramatic +gesture and startle a confession out of the reporter +and he was wholly unprepared for the latter’s frank +and voluntary avowal. +</p> +<p> +“Surprised you, didn’t it?” Granger chuckled as +if mildly amused. “I can hardly get used to the idea +myself. Membership in that gang of cutthroats and +grafters is nothing to be proud of, exactly. I’ve always +had a sneaking admiration for the Gray Phantom, +but the Duke’s different. He’s smooth and +artful enough, but he’s made of coarser stuff.” +</p> +<p> +“Yet you are a member of his organization?” +</p> +<p> +“Sounds contradictory, doesn’t it? Well, since I +have told you the beginning, I’ll have to tell you the +rest. The cause of it all dates back to my birth. I +came into the world with the face I’m wearing to-day, +though it’s undergone a process of beautification +in the intervening years. You see, my face is +the mainspring that has determined most of my +actions in recent years—some of the more important +ones, anyhow. I wouldn’t be a newspaper man +to-day if I had been born with a different face.” +</p> +<p> +“I don’t see the connection.” +</p> +<p> +“Let me tell you how it came about. On seven +different occasions, and in as many different places, +I have been mistaken for the Gray Phantom and put +in durance vile. The clippings in my scrapbook tell +all about it. I was in Cheyenne, Wyoming, the first +time it happened, and after I had satisfied the police +dunderheads as to my identity, the editor of one of +the local papers asked me to write up my impressions +while in jail and tell how it felt to be mistaken for +a celebrity like the Gray Phantom. I did, and that +gave me a taste for newspaper work. The editor +gave me a job on the spot and I’ve——” +</p> +<p> +“But what has all this to do with your membership in +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_175'></a>175</span> +the Duke’s gang?” interrupted the Phantom +impatiently. +</p> +<p> +“Everything. I’ve been plugging away at the +newspaper game ever since I got my start in Cheyenne. +I never stayed long in a place, for I have +something of a roving disposition and like change +of scenery now and then. My face got me in bad +almost wherever I went. I had no sooner struck a +new town than some ambitious dick thought he saw +a chance to get famous by pinching the Gray Phantom. +Of course, that always meant a stretch in the +lock-up—anything from two days to a week. I used +to lie awake nights imagining that I was in reality +the Gray Phantom and dreaming of great criminal +exploits. That got me interested in crime and criminals, +and I began making a study of the subject. +</p> +<p> +“Finally, I drifted into New York and landed on +the <em>Sphere</em>. One night while prowling about the +Chatham Square section I dropped into a Turkish +coffee house. It was a low joint, a hangout for thugs +and thieves. While sipping my coffee I made a study +of the different types around me. One fellow interested +me in particular. He was an evil-looking cuss, +but there was something about him that fascinated +me. He looked something like a Stevensonian pirate, +and he had a great scar over his left eye. Presently +I began to notice that he was looking my way +now and then, and finally I motioned to him to come +and sit beside me. We talked in whispers, like everybody +else in the joint, and by and by he asked me if +I was not the Gray Phantom. +</p> +<p> +“He seemed disappointed when I told him I was +only the Phantom’s double. We talked on for a +while, and the next night we met again in the same +place. The fellow piqued my curiosity, and I tried +to draw him out whenever I had a chance. I knew +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_176'></a>176</span> +he would shut up like a clam if I told him my profession, +so I let him think I was a crook, though I +didn’t go into details. We met night after night, and +each time we were more confidential. I could tell +he had something on his mind that he didn’t know +just how to put into words, and of course, I did my +best to lead him on. He approached the subject by +slow and easy stages, dropping a cautious hint now +and then. Finally, when he had convinced himself +that I was to be trusted, he told me he belonged to +a big criminal band and asked me if I would like to +join.” +</p> +<p> +“So that’s how you happened to become a member +of the Duke’s organization?” observed the +Phantom. +</p> +<p> +“To cut a long story short, that was the way it +happened. I thought I could work the salamander +stunt—play with fire without getting burned. The +idea of getting on the inside of a big gang of crooks +and studying its members at close quarters appealed +to me. Aside from that, I saw a chance to turn up +a big story for my paper, for it was my intention +to get the goods on the gang and, eventually, hand it +over to the police. But”—and a rueful smile +wrinkled Granger’s face—“I soon discovered that +one can’t play with fire without getting scorched.” +</p> +<p> +“That explains,” mumbled the Phantom thoughtfully, +at the same time extending the communication +handed him by the Duke’s messenger. “There’s a +message worked into the design which is readable +only under the lens. It’s a pleasant reminder of +what happens to traitors.” +</p> +<p> +“Yes. I know. I received several such reminders +before you came along and borrowed my clothes and +name. I wasn’t really a traitor, though. I merely +refused to obey certain orders they gave me.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_177'></a>177</span> +</p> +<p> +“You might have known that you would be expected +to take part in the gang’s activities. You +didn’t expect to be a member only in name?” +</p> +<p> +“Well, I thought I could stall for a while, till I +got the dope I wanted. You see, I was hoping they +wouldn’t ask me to do any of the rough stuff till I +had been a member for a while. I soon discovered +my mistake.” +</p> +<p> +“And so the big story will never materialize?” +</p> +<p> +“I’m afraid it won’t. My obituary is the only +kind of story that’s likely to grow out of this adventure +of mine. The Duke’s crew doesn’t stand for +any nonsense. I’ve been told that members who +don’t obey orders usually disappear under mysterious +circumstances. I never got next to the inner circle +of the gang. I suppose they didn’t trust me because +I took a drink too many now and then. Anyhow, I +didn’t get the stuff I was after. I was a sort of probationer, +reporting to one of the big chief’s lieutenants, +and I didn’t get as much as a glimpse of the +inner sanctum.” +</p> +<p> +“Too bad, Granger.” The disappointment written +on the reporter’s face seemed so ludicrous that +the Phantom could not repress a smile. “Maybe it +isn’t too late yet. By the way,” starting suddenly +from his chair, “have you any idea where Helen +Hardwick is?” +</p> +<p> +For a moment or two the reporter lay rigid on +his back; then he jumped up and stared in dumfounded +amazement at the Phantom. +</p> +<p> +“Why do you ask?” he inquired hoarsely, after +a pause during which each man looked the other +straight in the eye. +</p> +<p> +“Answer my question and I’ll tell you my reason +for asking it.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_178'></a>178</span> +</p> +<p> +Granger swallowed hard. “Has anything happened +to Miss Hardwick?” +</p> +<p> +“She has disappeared. Left her home two days +ago and hasn’t been heard from since. Her father +has asked the police to search for her.” +</p> +<p> +“Good Lord!” Granger groaned. “This is +awful!” +</p> +<p> +The Phantom gripped his arm. “Tell me what +you know,” he commanded. “Your looks show that +you are not entirely ignorant of the matter.” +</p> +<p> +The reporter’s face twitched. “I can guess what’s +happened to her,” he declared, speaking in thick accents, +“but I haven’t the least idea where she is.” +</p> +<p> +“Well, what do you think has happened to her?” +</p> +<p> +“She’s been kid—kidnaped.” As if to steady his +nerves, Granger picked up a cigarette and lighted it. +</p> +<p> +“How do you know that?” +</p> +<p> +“Because I”—Granger drew in a whiff of smoke—“because +I know the Duke’s crowd wanted her +abducted. They asked me to do it, and I balked. I +couldn’t—well, it simply went against the grain to +do a thing like that. It was my refusal to do as they +told me that got me in bad with the gang.” +</p> +<p> +The Phantom’s blood was slowly receding from +his face. For a moment he sat rigid, lips tightly compressed, +as if stunned. “Why did the Duke’s crowd +want Miss Hardwick kidnaped?” +</p> +<p> +“That I can’t tell you. The leaders simply issue +orders; they never explain their motives. I haven’t +the faintest idea what their reason for abducting +Miss Hardwick could be.” +</p> +<p> +Silence fell between them. The Phantom’s steely +gaze continued to search the other’s face. Though +evidently shocked by the news of Miss Hardwick’s +disappearance, the reporter did not once lower his +eyes. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_179'></a>179</span> +</p> +<p> +“They must have got somebody else to do it after +I refused,” he muttered, slowly getting a grip on +himself. “Wish I had a drink.” +</p> +<p> +The Phantom was hardly listening. His knitted +brows told that his mind was struggling with a +problem. +</p> +<p> +“Know an officer named Pinto?” he asked abruptly. +</p> +<p> +“I think I’ve heard of him.” +</p> +<p> +The Phantom gave a brief summary of his adventures +since arriving in the city. Granger listened +attentively, his eyes expressing a mingling of astonishment +and admiration. They opened wide as the +narrator described the scene in the storeroom and +Pinto’s peculiar behavior, and he chuckled appreciatively +at the account of the impostor’s visit to the +<em>Sphere</em> office. +</p> +<p> +“That’s the Phantom all over!” he remarked +when the story was finished. “It’s the nerviest thing +I ever heard of. But what you have told me only +puts a few extra kinks in the mystery.” +</p> +<p> +The Phantom nodded thoughtfully. “How well +do you know Miss Hardwick?” +</p> +<p> +“Scarcely at all. I have never met her. She +called me up at the <em>Sphere</em> office the day after the +murder and asked me a lot of questions. I referred +her to Doctor Bimble.” +</p> +<p> +“So she told me.” +</p> +<p> +“Bimble is a nut, but he has done several brilliant +things along lines of criminology. I was busy the +day Miss Hardwick called me up, and I got a little +jolt when she told me her name. The thing was +natural enough, of course, but it seemed a bit weird +to be talking to the person I had been asked to kidnap. +Well, I thought the easiest way to dispose of +her was to suggest that she see Bimble.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_180'></a>180</span> +</p> +<p> +The Phantom looked puzzled. “You never saw +Miss Hardwick, and you have talked with her only +over the telephone,” he murmured. “That being +the case, I wonder why Pinto asked me, while we +were in the storeroom this morning, if I knew what +had become of Miss Hardwick.” +</p> +<p> +“Rumor has it that a romantic attachment exists +between Miss Hardwick and the Gray Phantom. +Pinto must have heard something about it.” +</p> +<p> +“But at the time he put the question he had not +the faintest idea that I was the Gray Phantom. He +still thought I was Thomas Granger. It was my +way of responding to the question that aroused his +suspicions. Now, he must have had some reason +for supposing that Thomas Granger knew something +of what had happened to Miss Hardwick.” +</p> +<p> +Granger considered. “Miss Hardwick may have +told him about consulting me. But I think it just as +likely that Pinto was playing a bit of clever strategy—that +he had already suspected your identity and +sprung that question about Miss Hardwick in the +hope that you would betray yourself.” +</p> +<p> +“Perhaps.” The reporter’s theory seemed so +natural that the Phantom wondered why it had not +occurred to him before. “If that was his purpose, +the trick worked beautifully. Tell me, was it before +or after the murder of Gage that the Duke’s men +came to you with the kidnaping proposition?” +</p> +<p> +Granger stared hard for an instant; then a glint +of admiration appeared in his eyes. “Gray Phantom, +you ought to have been a detective. That’s as +neat a piece of mental acrobatics as I’ve seen in +many a day. The proposal came to me a few days +before Gage was murdered.” +</p> +<p> +“But the two plots might have been hatched simultaneously?” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_181'></a>181</span> +</p> +<p> +“They might. I see what you are driving at. +You think the two plots were related to a single +object. Perhaps you are right.” +</p> +<p> +“Granger, you don’t think I murdered Gage?” +</p> +<p> +“No,” after a long pause; “but neither can I tell +you who did. You, of course, are going on the presumption +that Pinto is the culprit.” +</p> +<p> +The Phantom looked a trifle bewildered. The +reporter had read his mind. +</p> +<p> +Granger chuckled. “I can see in which direction +your mind is working. You think the bolted door +and other circumstances prove that no one but Pinto +could have committed the murder. You believe that +after killing Gage he murdered the housekeeper in +order to silence her. Pinto’s queer conduct, especially +the stunt he pulled off in the storeroom this +morning, is sufficient proof, to your way of thinking, +and you base your entire case on the guess that Pinto +is a member of the Duke’s gang.” +</p> +<p> +“Don’t you agree with me? I read between the +lines of your stories in the <em>Sphere</em> that you did not +share the generally accepted opinion.” +</p> +<p> +Granger looked up quickly. “The devil you did! +I didn’t mean to air my private opinions. It must +have been a subconscious process. To be perfectly +frank, I don’t know whether I agree with you or +not. I have an idea of my own on the subject, but +it’s vague as yet. Maybe I’ll tell you later.” +</p> +<p> +The Phantom shrugged his shoulders. “The mystery +of the murders doesn’t interest me particularly +just at present. Granger, if you were in my position, +how would you go about finding Miss Hardwick?” +</p> +<p> +The reporter considered for a long time. “My +first step would be to get in touch with the Duke’s +gang and try to ascertain where Miss Hardwick is +being concealed. That’s a large order, and you will +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_182'></a>182</span> +find it fairly exciting. The Duke, I’ve been told, +hates you as he never hated anyone before, and he’s +almost as dangerous behind prison bars as outside. +He froths at the mouth whenever he mentions your +name to the other prisoners. Your borrowed personality +won’t give you a great deal of protection, +for there are a lot of sharp-eyed men in the Duke’s +crowd, and, besides, you’re in almost as great danger +whether you appear as the Gray Phantom or as +Tommie Granger.” +</p> +<p> +The Phantom waved his hand deprecatingly. “I +have considered all that. The question is, how am +I to get in contact with the gang.” He peered reflectively +at the man on the couch; then an idea +came to him. “How did the heads of the organization +communicate with you? To whom did you report +and from whom did you receive your orders?” +</p> +<p> +“From my acquaintance of the Turkish coffee +house.” +</p> +<p> +“The piratical-looking fellow?” +</p> +<p> +Granger nodded. +</p> +<p> +“How can I find him?” +</p> +<p> +“The coffee joint is in Catharine Street, not far +from East Broadway. You can easily locate it, and +you will probably find your man there about ten or +eleven at night. But hadn’t you better take me +along?” +</p> +<p> +The Phantom shook his head emphatically. +“You have just told me to what extremes you are +willing to go in order to get a good story for your +paper. The capture of the Gray Phantom would +make an even bigger story than the one you were +after. I can’t quite trust you, Granger. You love +your liquor not wisely but too well, and you’re likely +to give the show away. Besides, it wouldn’t do for +us two to be seen together.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_183'></a>183</span> +</p> +<p> +“That’s so,” said Granger resignedly. “Well, +anyhow, you might send me something for a bracer.” +</p> +<p> +The Phantom promised to try. He got up and +rapped on the wall, eyeing Granger steadily as he +stepped through the opening that appeared as if by +magic. But the reporter, evidently realizing that +any attempt to escape would be useless, made no +move. +</p> +<p> +An opium lamp was sizzling in a corner of the +room. At a table sat Peng Yuen, his face as impassive +as granite. If he had overheard any part of +the conversation he showed no sign of it. +</p> +<p> +“You need food and sleep,” he remarked tonelessly, +pointing to the table, on which a meal was +spread out. +</p> +<p> +The Phantom thanked him and sat down. He was +famished and fagged out, and he could accomplish +nothing until night came, so he gladly accepted the +Chinaman’s hospitality. As he ate, Peng Yuen regarded +him stolidly while he smoked his acrid pipe +of li-un. He did not speak until the Phantom had +finished his meal. +</p> +<p> +“‘The Book of the Unknown Philosopher,’” he +remarked, without looking directly at his guest, “says +that the overwise sometimes go far afield in search +of truths that may be found at home.” +</p> +<p> +The Phantom looked up, bewildered. “I suppose +there is a priceless gem of wisdom hidden somewhere +in that sentence, but I don’t see how it can +apply to me.” +</p> +<p> +The Chinaman gave a queer laugh, half chuckle +and half grunt, and deep in the almond-shaped eyes +lurked a faint, shrewd twinkle. +</p> +<h2><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_184'></a>184</span>CHAPTER XX—THE MISSING SKELETONS</h2> +<p> +Dusk was falling as the Phantom, refreshed by +Peng Yuen’s excellent cooking and several +hours of sound sleep, left the shop in Pell +Street and cautiously picked his way through the reek +and noise of the Chinese quarter. He still felt a +twinge of apprehension whenever he thought of +Helen Hardwick, but his nerves were steady once +more, and he had the springy step and the clear, +alert eye of the man who feels sure of his ability +to meet any emergency. +</p> +<p> +His fears were allayed somewhat by the comforting +thought that Helen was as capable and keen-witted +as she was reckless and audacious. She was +what the Phantom termed a thoroughbred. She had +nerve, spirit, and subtlety, and on several occasions +she had evinced an amazing capacity for handling a +difficult situation. Besides, she had a robust vitality +and an athletic physique that in no wise marred her +womanly charms. +</p> +<p> +The Phantom walked slowly, turning the complex +situation over in his mind, for it was still too early +to go to the coffee house in Catharine Street. At a +corner news stand he bought an evening paper, glancing +at the headlines as he walked along. The murder +of the housekeeper was given glaring prominence +because of the general belief that it had been perpetrated +by the Gray Phantom. The motives ascribed to him were +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_185'></a>185</span> +somewhat sketchy, but the police +seemed convinced that he was bent on a campaign +of terror, and there was anxious speculation as to +where his bloodstained hand would appear next. In +the meantime, the search was being continued at +fever heat, and the detective bureau expected to +make an important announcement within a few +hours. +</p> +<p> +The Phantom smiled as he read. He had expected +that the death of the housekeeper would be +charged to him, and he had drawn fortitude from +the firm belief that in a short time he would prove +his innocence. +</p> +<p> +The odd predicament in which Pinto had been +found was described facetiously and at great length. +The paper treated it as a mystery that might not be +solved until the officer, who had been taken to a +hospital suffering from a severe concussion of the +brain, recovered consciousness. His partner in the +droll situation had stubbornly refused to render any +explanation, and was being held for investigation +pending Pinto’s recovery. He had an unsavory +record, according to the police, and was known in +the underworld as “Dan the Dope.” +</p> +<p> +The Phantom was satisfied. From Dan the Dope +he had nothing to fear, and Pinto, even if he were +inclined to tell what he knew, would not be able to +speak for some time. He was passably safe as far +as the police were concerned, and a little extra caution +and vigilance would checkmate the designs of +the Duke’s henchman. As far as he was able to tell, +neither side suspected that the Gray Phantom was +masquerading as Thomas Granger. +</p> +<p> +He had still more than an hour to while away, +and a hazy thought in the back of his mind guided +his steps in the direction of Doctor Bimble’s house. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_186'></a>186</span> +Everything seemed to indicate that Helen had disappeared +shortly after leaving the anthropologist’s +laboratory, and he might be able to pick up some +clew in the neighborhood that would help him to +trace her movements. He looked about him cautiously +as he walked along, surmising that the vicinity +was being watched by spies of the Duke. +</p> +<p> +At the corner nearest the Bimble residence he +turned into a cigar store and purchased a package +of cigarettes. He loitered near the door while smoking +one, amusing himself by studying the faces of +the passers-by, and presently a tall, angular figure +approached from the other end of the block. At a +glimpse the Phantom had recognized the inscrutable +features of Jerome, the anthropologist’s servant. +The man walked hurriedly, looking straight ahead, +and in a few moments he was out of sight. +</p> +<p> +A vagrant impulse told the Phantom to start in +pursuit of him and see whither he was bound, but he +realized that he had no reason for doing so. He +had sensed something mysterious about Bimble and +his servant, but his interest in them was little more +than an idle curiosity. If he had any suspicions at +all, they were of the intangible and intuitive sort and +afforded him no basis for action. +</p> +<p> +After a few minutes another figure appeared down +the block, and the Phantom pressed close to the wall +at his back. Even at a distance he recognized the +enormous head, the jutting stomach, and the absurdly +thin legs of Doctor Bimble. With a beatific +smile on his face, and looking neither to right nor +left, the anthropologist walked past him, evidently +bound in the same direction as his servant. +</p> +<p> +Again the Phantom felt an instinctive urge to +follow. It struck him as rather queer that master +and servant had not come out together, but then he +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_187'></a>187</span> +told himself that the circumstance was probably +meaningless and that his imagination was magnifying +trifles. He crossed to the opposite side of the +street and turned east, scanning the dark front of +the Bimble house as he strolled along. +</p> +<p> +Coming directly opposite the residence, he paused +in the doorway of a delicatessen store and looked +across the street, scrutinizing the gloomy and unprepossessing +dwelling with an interest for which he +could not account. It seemed strange that Doctor +Bimble should have chosen such an unattractive +location, but he remembered that the scientist had +said something about wishing to live in an out-of-the-way +place where he would be safe against intrusions +on his privacy and where he could conduct his researches +in peace and quiet. +</p> +<p> +The house, flanked by a lodging house on one side +and on the other by a three-story structure of residential +appearance, whose boarded-up windows and +doors hinted that it had stood vacant for some time, +was dark from attic to basement. Presumably +Doctor Bimble and his man were out for the evening. +The house and its neighbors on each side held the +Phantom’s gaze with a persistence that he could not +understand. He sensed an incongruity of some kind, +and for a while he tried in vain to analyze it. Finally, +as he centered his attention on the building +to the west, the one with the boarded windows and +doors, it came to him. It seemed strange that a +structure of that kind should be standing vacant in +the midst of a housing famine, when even the least +desirable dwellings commanded extravagant prices. +</p> +<p> +The Phantom laughed, a little disgusted with himself +for allowing another meaningless trifle to perplex +him. As likely as not the house was vacant for +the simple and sufficient reason that it had been condemned +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_188'></a>188</span> +by the building commissioner. His gaze +wandered to the door of the Bimble residence, and a +disturbing thought caused the chuckle to die in his +throat. +</p> +<p> +Only the other day Helen Hardwick had walked +out of that door, he remembered, and from that +moment on her movements were veiled behind a +curtain of mystery. Which way had she turned, +what had happened to her, and where was she now? +Had she been forcibly abducted as she stepped from +the house, or had someone lured her into a trap? +</p> +<p> +There had been nothing about her disappearance +in the newspaper the Phantom had just read, and he +surmised that Mr. Hardwick had used what influence +he had to keep the matter out of the press. The +door across the street still held his gaze; and of a +sudden, out of the jumble of his fears and perplexities, +came another harassing thought. +</p> +<p> +What if Helen had never walked out of the door +across the way? What if she should still be inside +the house? +</p> +<p> +The Phantom’s eyes narrowed as the suspicion +came to him. It was groundless, so far as he could +see, and there was no reasoning behind it. It had +come out of nowhere, like a stray figment of the +imagination, yet it tormented him with an insistence +that he could not shake off. +</p> +<p> +He walked to the end of the block, then crossed +the street and moved up the side on which the Bimble +house stood. There were a few pedestrians in the +street, and to attempt to force the main door might +prove unsafe. The basement entrance was dark, and +in a moment, concealed by the shadows, he was at +work on the lock. It yielded so easily to his deft +manipulation that he could understand how the +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_189'></a>189</span> +prowlers of whom Bimble had complained had +managed to enter the house. +</p> +<p> +Pulling the door shut, he took out his electric +flash, determined to settle his suspicions by making +a systematic search of the house. He proceeded +swiftly but with care, searching every nook and +cranny and occasionally tapping the walls and floors +to make sure there were no hollow spaces. He explored +cellar and basement without finding anything +of suggestive nature, then walked up the same stairway +he had ascended after his first trip through the +tunnel. +</p> +<p> +He was now in the laboratory, sweeping floor +and walls with the electric torch. At first glance it +looked exactly as it had when Helen met him at the +head of the stairs with a leveled pistol, yet he sensed +a difference almost at once. His eyes flitted over +the long workbench with its collection of chemical +apparatus, over the black-framed photographs and +X-ray prints, and then he glanced at the tall cages +along the wall, in which the skeletons stood, erect and +grim as ghostly sentinels. +</p> +<p> +It was then his mind grasped the difference. On +his first visit there had been at least a dozen skeletons +in the room; now he counted only seven. The famous +Raschenell, to whom Bimble had pointed with +so much pride, was among the missing ones. He +paused only for a moment to wonder what had become +of the others, for Bimble and the servant might +return at any time and interrupt his search, and he +wished to be at the Turkish coffee house not later +than half past ten. +</p> +<p> +He inspected room after room, but without result, +finally mounting to the attic and making the same +thorough investigation there. He had found nothing +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_190'></a>190</span> +whatever to reward him for his efforts. He +came to the conclusion that his suspicions had been +entirely unfounded, for if they had had any basis +in fact his investigation would have uncovered some +clew or hint pointing in that direction. One thing +had been accomplished, however, was his reflection +as he walked down the stairs. He had eliminated +Doctor Bimble from the range of his suspicions and +would waste no more time and effort trying to explain +the eccentricities of a scientist. +</p> +<p> +Deciding to leave the way he had entered, he +crossed the laboratory and moved toward the stairs. +With his hand on the doorknob, he looked back and +once more let his electric torch play over the floor +and walls. Again, without exactly knowing why, +he counted the cages, vaguely feeling that there was +a hidden significance in the depletion of the grisly +company. +</p> +<p> +Finally, he extinguished his flash and resolutely +turned away. Again he was berating himself for +bothering his mind over trivial things. Doubtless +Doctor Bimble had a sound and simple reason for +removing a number of the skeletons. As he walked +down the basement stairs he resolved to banish the +anthropologist and his collection from his thoughts. +</p> +<p> +An odd sense of apprehension took hold of him +as he reached the bottom step. He looked about +him sharply; the darkness was so thick that he could +see nothing. He pricked up his ears and listened, but +he could detect no sound except those coming from +the street. Yet he had a feeling that he was not +alone, that another being was lurking somewhere in +the darkness. It was a familiar sensation and he +had learned to heed its warning, for he had experienced +it before in moments of danger. +</p> +<p> +He stepped down on the floor, at the same instant +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_191'></a>191</span> +reaching for the pistol he had taken from Dan the +Dope. Before he could draw the weapon a voice +spoke sharply: +</p> +<p> +“Stay right where you are, friend!” +</p> +<p> +Then a click sounded, followed by a blaze of light. +He turned quickly in the direction whence the voice +had come. He saw the glint of a pistol barrel +pointed toward him with a steady hand, and behind +the pistol stood Lieutenant Culligore. +</p> +<h2><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_192'></a>192</span>CHAPTER XXI—FINGER PRINTS</h2> +<p> +The detective’s face was as dull and unimpassioned +as a caricature carved out of wood. +He stood pointing the pistol with a listless air, +and his eyes were heavy and sluggish, as if he were +not fully awake. He lowered the weapon almost +as soon as he saw the Phantom’s face, but did not +put it out of sight. +</p> +<p> +“Oh, it’s you, Granger.” He spoke in a drawl, +and there might have been the faintest trace of disappointment +in his tones. “I thought it might be +someone else.” +</p> +<p> +“The Gray Phantom, for instance?” +</p> +<p> +“Well, maybe. There’s no reason, though, why +the Phantom should be prowling around here, is +there?” +</p> +<p> +“Apparently not.” The Phantom advanced leisurely +and looked sharply at the speaker’s stolid face. +The question had been spoken in a tone faintly suggestive +of an underlying meaning. “It seems both +of us are taking advantage of the absence of Doctor +Bimble and Jerome to do a little investigating on +the quiet.” +</p> +<p> +Culligore yawned ostentatiously. “The doc ought +to have new locks put on his doors. It’s too easy for +people to get in.” +</p> +<p> +“He is a simple and unsuspecting soul. But tell +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_193'></a>193</span> +me, lieutenant, how it happens that the Phantom’s +trail leads into Doctor Bimble’s basement.” +</p> +<p> +“Does it?” +</p> +<p> +“Well, I don’t suppose you would be here unless +it did. Your object in coming here wasn’t to interview +the skeletons upstairs, was it?” +</p> +<p> +Culligore laughed softly. “I might put the same +question to you.” +</p> +<p> +“Then we’re on an even footing. And, since we +don’t seem to get anywhere, we might as well drop +the subject of our mutual presence here. Each of +us can take it for granted that the other has a tip +which he wants to keep to himself. Seen anything +of the Gray Phantom lately?” +</p> +<p> +“Not exactly.” +</p> +<p> +“What’s the idea of the ‘exactly’? You either +have seen him or you haven’t seen him. Which is +it?” +</p> +<p> +“Neither the one nor the other,” said Culligore +mysteriously. “With a man like the Phantom you +can never be sure. Even when you think you see +him, he isn’t always there. Say that was a queer +case you tipped me off on this morning.” +</p> +<p> +“It was. Simple enough, though, as far as the +murder of the housekeeper is concerned. Apparently +there’s not the slightest doubt that the Phantom +did it.” +</p> +<p> +“Think so?” +</p> +<p> +The two words, spoken in low and casual tones, +caused the Phantom to raise his brows. “Don’t +you?” +</p> +<p> +Culligore tilted his head to one side and squinted +vacantly into space. “Things aren’t always what +they seem,” he drawlingly observed. “I’ve been seesawing +up and down ever since I was turned loose +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_194'></a>194</span> +on this case. One hour I feel dead sure the Phantom +did it; the next I don’t know what to think.” +</p> +<p> +“All the facts seem to point to the Phantom’s +guilt.” +</p> +<p> +“That’s just the trouble.” Culligore scowled a +little. “There’s such a thing as having too many +facts. If the evidence wasn’t so perfect I’d be more +sure of my ground. As it is, I wouldn’t bet more +than a pair of Bowery spats on the Phantom’s guilt. +I’m not sure he killed either Gage or the housekeeper.” +</p> +<p> +The Phantom eyed him intently, trying to read his +mind. +</p> +<p> +“I see,” he murmured. “You don’t want to believe +the Phantom has fallen so low as to——” +</p> +<p> +“You’re talking rot!” snorted the lieutenant, as +if touched on a sensitive spot. “What I want to +believe makes no difference. If I could lay my +hands on the Phantom this minute, I’d put the links +on him so quick it would take his breath away. Even +if he didn’t kill Gage and Mrs. Trippe, there are +one or two other things we can send him up for.” +</p> +<p> +“I suppose so,” said the Phantom thoughtfully. +“Much as you would hate to pinch him, you can’t let +sentiment interfere with duty.” +</p> +<p> +“Sentiment be damned!” grumbled the lieutenant, +reddening a trifle as he saw the knowing grin on the +Phantom’s face. “I never was long on that kind of +stuff. By the way, what’s your opinion of the case, +Granger?” +</p> +<p> +“I haven’t any.” The Phantom wondered what +was going on in the back of Culligore’s mind. He +knew the dull features were a mask and that the +lieutenant, practicing a trick cultivated by members +of his profession, was studying his face every moment +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_195'></a>195</span> +without appearing to do so. “You seem to be +holding something back,” he added. +</p> +<p> +“Think so?” Culligore uttered a flat, toneless +chuckle. “Aren’t you holding something back yourself? +What’s the use trying to hog it all for your +paper?” +</p> +<p> +“Didn’t I tip you off on the doings in the Gage +house this morning?” +</p> +<p> +“You did,” said Culligore dryly, “and I’m still +wondering how you knew about them. Did you just +walk in on a hunch and discover a dead woman, and +a cop chained to an opium-eating runt, or did someone +put you wise beforehand?” +</p> +<p> +The Phantom felt he was on dangerous ground. +“It was only a hunch. We newspaper men have +them, you know, and once in a while they pan out. +But what do you make of it, Culligore? How do +you explain the cop being handcuffed to Dan the +Dope?” +</p> +<p> +“I don’t explain it. I suppose Pinto will tell us +how it happened when he comes to.” +</p> +<p> +“Think there’s any connection between the handcuffed +pair and the murder of the housekeeper?” +</p> +<p> +“How could there be? The medical examiner +said the housekeeper must have been dead from +twenty to thirty hours when the body was found. +Besides, where do you find any connection between +a murder on the one hand and a cop chained to a +dope fiend on the other? To my way of thinking, +the two cases are separate. The one of Pinto and +Dan the Dope is all a riddle, and the only clear +thing about it is that the Phantom had a hand in it.” +</p> +<p> +“The Phantom?” +</p> +<p> +“Yep. The Phantom was in on it. Surprised, +eh? Well, there are some things we don’t tell the +newspapers, and this was one of them. Just how the +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_196'></a>196</span> +Phantom figured in the thing I can’t tell, but he was +in the Gage house last night or early in the morning. +Beats the dickens how that fellow can walk +past our noses without getting caught.” +</p> +<p> +The Phantom stared. He did not think he had +left any traces of his connection with the affair at +the Gage house, and Culligore’s statement startled +him for a moment. +</p> +<p> +“How do you know?” he asked, getting a grip on +himself. +</p> +<p> +“Finger prints,” said the lieutenant. “This is on +the q. t. I examined the handcuffs, and there were +three sets of prints on them, showing that three different +persons had handled them. There were only +two or three marks of each set, but enough to identify +them. One set was Dan the Dope’s, the other +must have been Pinto’s, and the third was the Gray +Phantom’s.” +</p> +<p> +The Phantom bit his lip, chiding himself for having +been caught off his guard. He might have +known that the smooth and shiny surface of the +handcuffs would register finger prints, but he had +been bodily and mentally exhausted at the time, and +his habitual sense of caution had failed to assert +itself. +</p> +<p> +“Wonder what the Phantom was up to,” he murmured, +feeling a trifle uncomfortable beneath Culligore’s +covert and incessant scrutiny. +</p> +<p> +“Hard telling. Lots of queer things happen in +this world.” Culligore grinned while absently toying +with the pistol. “For instance, this morning +after I left you on the corner——” +</p> +<p> +“You had me shadowed,” interrupted the Phantom. +“What was the idea, Culligore?” +</p> +<p> +“Just a hunch. My man trailed you to the <em>Sphere</em> +office. Then, thinking you wouldn’t be out for a +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_197'></a>197</span> +while, he went into a beanery for a bite and a cup +of coffee. After coming out he hung around the +entrance to the <em>Sphere</em> Building for a while longer, +but you didn’t show up. Finally, he went inside and +inquired for you. They told him you had left.” +</p> +<p> +Culligore paused for a moment. He was turning +the pistol in his hand with a playful air. The Phantom +felt a curious tension taking hold of his body. +</p> +<p> +“They told my man,” continued the lieutenant, +speaking very softly, “that you didn’t write the story +yourself, but told the facts to a reporter named Fessenden. +As I understand it, they gave Fessenden a +new desk not long ago. It’s a nice-looking piece of +furniture, with a smooth, glossy finish. Maybe you +noticed it?” +</p> +<p> +“No, not particularly,” said the Phantom, finding +it a little hard to keep his voice steady. The rôle +he was playing had claimed all his thoughts while +he was in the <em>Sphere</em> office, and he had not noticed +details. +</p> +<p> +“Too bad you didn’t.” Culligore was still speaking +in low, purring accents. Gradually and without +apparent intent, he turned the muzzle of the pistol +until it pointed to the Phantom’s chest. “Well, I +understand Fessenden was sitting at that nice, new +desk while you told him the story, and you were +sitting right beside him, with one of the corners of +the desk toward you. Some people have a habit +when nervous of drumming with their fingers on +whatever object is before them. It’s a bad habit, +Granger.” +</p> +<p> +The Phantom nodded. A thin smile played about +his lips and his eyes glittered like tiny points of +steel between half-closed lids. +</p> +<p> +“Very bad habit, Granger. Well, my man saw +finger prints on the smooth and shiny surface of the +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_198'></a>198</span> +desk, right where you had been sitting. He touched +them up by sprinkling a little gray powder over +them, after which they were photographed. It +didn’t take very long to identify them. Steady now! +This little toy of mine can be real ugly when it gets +mad. What I want you to explain is how Tommie +Granger’s fingers happened to leave the Gray Phantom’s +finger prints on Fessenden’s desk.” +</p> +<h2><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_199'></a>199</span>CHAPTER XXII—THE PHANTOM TURNS A SOMERSAULT</h2> +<p> +There was a humorous glint in Lieutenant +Culligore’s lazy, mouse-colored eyes as he +noted the look of consternation that was +slowly creeping into the Gray Phantom’s face. He +drew a step nearer, and now the menacing muzzle +was less than six feet from its target. There was +a touch of carelessness in his manner of handling +the weapon, but his aim was sure and a slight pressure +on the trigger would have meant death. +</p> +<p> +But the Phantom’s look of dismay was not due +to fear. Many a time he had laughed in the face +of dangers far more serious than the present one. +The thing that appalled him was the realization that +twice within a few hours he had committed a stupid +blunder. The Gray Phantom, once the astutest and +craftiest of rogues, had bungled like an amateur. +</p> +<p> +The thought was galling. Was it that his hand +had lost its old-time finesse and his mind its keen +edge, or had his mental stress and fagged nerves +been the cause of his bungling? Again, perhaps he +had been distracted by the haunting vision of a pair +of troubled brown eyes. +</p> +<p> +He looked hard at Culligore. Some faces were +like an open book to him, and this was one of them. +The lieutenant was no man’s fool. Behind the mask +of dullness and stolidity were shrewdness and quickness +of wit, and he knew that the man before him +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_200'></a>200</span> +would not permit private inclinations to swerve him +from his duty. Culligore was as dangerous an adversary +as he had ever faced. But there was still +another quality behind the mask, and it was this +that gave the Phantom his cue. +</p> +<p> +Quickly he looked about him. The way to the +basement door was barred by the lieutenant, but the +stairway leading to the laboratory was unobstructed. +With an appearance of utmost unconcern the Phantom +turned away and started to ascend the steps. +</p> +<p> +“Stop!” commanded Culligore, following the retreating +man’s movements with his pistol. “I’ll pop +you if you take another step.” +</p> +<p> +The Phantom stopped, turned, and grinned. “Oh, +no, you won’t,” he drawled. +</p> +<p> +“Can’t you see that I’ve got you covered?” +</p> +<p> +“But you won’t shoot. It takes a particular kind +of nerve to kill a defenseless man in cold blood, and +you haven’t got it. Good-by.” +</p> +<p> +He took another step, but a short and peremptory +“Halt!” brought him to a stop. There was something +in the lieutenant’s tone that gave him pause. +He turned and looked down. +</p> +<p> +“You’ve sized me up just about right,” admitted +Culligore. “I can’t kill a man who hasn’t got a +chance for his life. But if you move another step, +you’ll get a slug of lead in your leg. If you think +I’m bluffing, just try.” +</p> +<p> +The Phantom hesitated. The words and the tone +left no room for doubt as to the speaker’s earnestness, +and even a slight flesh wound would hamper the +Phantom’s movements and frustrate his plans. He +came down the few steps he had covered and stood +on the basement floor. +</p> +<p> +“All right, Culligore. You win this time, but +don’t think for a moment that I’ll let you carry this +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_201'></a>201</span> +joke much further. I have very strenuous objections +to being arrested at this particular time. Mind if I +smoke a cigarette?” +</p> +<p> +“I do,” the lieutenant said dryly. “I have heard +about your cute little ways, and I’m not taking any +chances. You don’t play any of your tricks on me, +Mr. Phantom.” +</p> +<p> +“You surely don’t think that I’ll permit you to +drag me off to a cell?” +</p> +<p> +“How are you going to help yourself?” +</p> +<p> +“Why, man, it can’t be done! It’s been tried +before, you know. And just now I am a very busy +man and can’t afford to waste time. Besides, what +charge do you propose to arrest me on? Not the +murder of Gage and Mrs. Trippe?” +</p> +<p> +“There are other charges waiting for you in court. +You’ve been having a gay time for a good many +years, but this is the end of it. You’ve done some +very fancy wriggling in the past, but you can’t +wriggle out of this.” +</p> +<p> +“Perhaps not.” A great gloom seemed suddenly +to fall over the Phantom. “It looks as though you +had me, Culligore. A man can’t fight the whole +New York police force single-handed. All you have +to do is to blow your whistle and——” +</p> +<p> +“Whistle be hanged! I’m not going to give you +the satisfaction of saying that it took a regiment to +get you. I mean to arrest you alone, just to prove +that you’re not as smart as some people think.” +</p> +<p> +The Phantom glowed inwardly. His adroit and +subtle appeal to the lieutenant’s pride had produced +the desired effect. Culligore felt so sure of his advantage +that he would not summon help, and this +was an important point in the Phantom’s favor. Yet +he knew the situation was critical enough. On +former occasions he had gambled recklessly with +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_202'></a>202</span> +death, often winning through sheer fearlessness and +audacity, but much more than his life was at stake +now. He looked in vain for a loophole in the situation. +All he could do for the present was to spar +for time. +</p> +<p> +“I see,” he murmured. “The achievement of taking +the Phantom single-handed would put a gorgeous +feather in your cap. But look here, Culligore. +Fame is a fine thing, but you can’t eat it, and it won’t +buy clothes. Isn’t it just as important to find the +murderer of Mrs. Trippe and Gage?” +</p> +<p> +“I’ll attend to that, too.” The lieutenant inserted +a hand in his pocket and drew out a pair of handcuffs. +“Out with your hands, Phantom.” +</p> +<p> +The Phantom promptly put his hands in the +pockets of his trousers. “Why be in such a rush, +Culligore? You know I can’t get away from you +so long as you keep me covered. Let’s discuss things +a bit. You don’t think I committed those murders?” +</p> +<p> +“Not exactly,” said the detective thoughtfully, the +steel links dangling from his hand. “Whatever else +you may be, I don’t think you’re a murderer.” +</p> +<p> +“And that shows that you have more gray matter +than some of your colleagues.” +</p> +<p> +“Thanks,” dryly; “but you’d better save the compliments. +I haven’t quite made up my mind about +the murders yet. If you didn’t commit them, there +are a lot of things that will have to be explained. +The threatening letter, for instance.” +</p> +<p> +“Forged.” +</p> +<p> +“And Gage’s dying statement.” +</p> +<p> +“Pinto lied, or else Gage was mistaken.” +</p> +<p> +“Think so?” The lieutenant’s upper lip brushed +the tip of his nose. “It’s a queer thing that nothing +but the Maltese cross was taken.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_203'></a>203</span> +</p> +<p> +“That was only a detail of the frame-up. Listen, +Culligore. Isn’t it your idea that the two murders +were committed by one and the same person?” +</p> +<p> +“It looks that way, but——” +</p> +<p> +“Well, then, I happen to know who killed Mrs. +Trippe, because I was there when it happened.” +</p> +<p> +Culligore stared; and the Phantom knew he had +gained another point. +</p> +<p> +“There when it happened? You saw the murder +committed?” The lieutenant seemed at once +amazed and incredulous. “Just where were you? +In the storeroom?” +</p> +<p> +“No; the murder was committed in Gage’s bedroom, +and the body was afterward removed to the +storeroom by the murderer.” +</p> +<p> +For a moment Culligore’s astonishment was so +great that he almost forgot to maintain his aim. He +gathered himself quickly, but his face bore a look +of bewilderment. +</p> +<p> +“He moved the body, eh? I wonder why. If the +job was done by a certain person I have in mind, +I don’t see what object he could have in carrying the +corpse from Gage’s bedroom to the storeroom. The +natural thing would have been to leave the body on +the spot. You’re not kidding me?” +</p> +<p> +“Absolutely not.” The Phantom grinned at Culligore’s +perplexity. Evidently the lieutenant’s +theories and calculations had been completely upset +by what he had just heard. “Who is the certain +person you had in mind, Culligore?” +</p> +<p> +“Never mind that. Let me get this straight. You +were in Gage’s bedroom when Mrs. Trippe was +murdered?” +</p> +<p> +“Not in the bedroom, but——” The Phantom +checked himself on the point of explaining that he +had witnessed the murder from his place of concealment +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_204'></a>204</span> +in the narrow opening back of the window +frame. In a flash it dawned upon him that he had +another advantage over the detective. He had found +the loophole in the situation for which his mind had +been searching for the past ten minutes. Culligore, +of course, was not aware of the existence of the +tunnel. The stairs leading to the cellar were at the +Phantom’s back. If he could elude the detective +long enough to slip down the steps and crawl into the +mouth of the tunnel, he would be temporarily safe. +It was a slender chance, but he had no other. +</p> +<p> +“Where were you, then?” demanded Culligore. +</p> +<p> +“My secret.” The Phantom assumed a mysterious +expression, meanwhile edging ever so slightly +toward the stairs at his back. “I saw Mrs. Trippe +and she saw me. She was in a terribly frightened +condition, and she called out that someone was killing +her. Then, of a sudden, a hand appeared, holding +a knife. Before I could utter a word or move +a muscle, the knife had done its work.” +</p> +<p> +Culligore muttered something under his breath. +He scanned the Phantom’s face keenly, but what he +saw evidently convinced him of the narrator’s truthfulness. +A noise, scarcely louder than the falling +of a pin, sounded at the head of the stairs. The +Phantom’s sensitive ears detected it, but the lieutenant +appeared to have heard nothing. +</p> +<p> +“Well, what happened after that?” +</p> +<p> +The Phantom waited for a moment before he +answered. A draft faint as a breath told him that +the door at the top of the stairs had been opened. +He had a vague impression that somebody was looking +down on them, and he wondered whether Doctor +Bimble or Jerome had returned. Not the slightest +flicker in his face showed that he had noticed +anything. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_205'></a>205</span> +</p> +<p> +“I didn’t see any more. The—the curtain fell a +moment or two after the blow was struck.” +</p> +<p> +Culligore regarded him narrowly. Another faint +sound came from the head of the stairs, and in the +same instant the draft ceased, indicating that the +door had closed. The lieutenant, his every faculty +bent to the task of ferreting out the thoughts in the +Phantom’s mind, had heard nothing. He seemed inclined +to doubt and scoff, but a stronger instinct compelled +him to give credence to the story he had just +heard. +</p> +<p> +“And all you saw of the murderer was a hand +and a knife?” +</p> +<p> +“That was all.” +</p> +<p> +“Do you remember the woman’s exact words?” +</p> +<p> +The Phantom searched his memory for a moment. +“She said: ‘He’s killing me! He’s afraid I’ll tell! +He locked me in——’ She never finished the last +sentence, but she had said enough. Evidently, the +murderer of Gage knew that the housekeeper was +aware of his guilt, and imprisoned her in the bedroom +so that she would not reveal what she knew. +Later he returned with a knife in his hand, having +decided it would be safer to kill her. The housekeeper +must have had some warning of his arrival; +perhaps she saw or heard him coming.” +</p> +<p> +Culligore looked as though he had a baffling problem +on his mind. “Who do you suppose was the +‘he’ she referred to?” +</p> +<p> +“I think that’s fairly plain. She had previously +made it known that she suspected Pinto of having +murdered her employer.” +</p> +<p> +The lieutenant arched his brows and seemed to +be revolving a new idea in his mind. “Just the same, +we can’t be sure she meant Pinto, as long as she +didn’t mention him by name. The fact that she +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_206'></a>206</span> +suspected him once doesn’t really prove anything. +Something may have happened in the meantime that +caused her to change her opinion. The ‘he’ might +have been an entirely different person—maybe somebody +she’d never seen before and whose name she +didn’t know.” +</p> +<p> +“Possible,” admitted the Phantom thoughtfully. +Culligore had turned his thoughts into a new +channel. +</p> +<p> +“Besides,” added Culligore quickly, “even if Pinto +was the ‘he’ she had in mind, she might have been +mistaken, just as you claim Gage was mistaken.” +</p> +<p> +The Phantom made another slight movement +toward the cellar stairs. “I’m not at all sure Gage +made the statement Pinto claims he made. My +private opinion is that Pinto is a liar as well as a +murderer. What the housekeeper said isn’t the only +evidence I have against him. I hadn’t meant to tell +what happened in the storeroom this morning; but +since I was careless enough to leave my finger prints +on the handcuffs, I might as well come out with it.” +</p> +<p> +Culligore’s mouth opened wider and wider as the +Phantom related what had occurred in the storeroom +during the early morning hours. When the story +was finished, he seemed stunned, and the dazed look +in his eyes told the Phantom his chance had come. +</p> +<p> +For an instant he flexed his muscles for action, +then executed a swift and nimble somersault that +landed him on his feet in the middle of the stairs. +A spiteful crack told that Culligore had fired his +pistol, but the Phantom was already at the bottom +of the stairway. Then he dashed across the floor +toward the point where the mouth of the tunnel was. +He ran his fingers over the wall in search of the +hidden door, the ingenious arrangement of which he +had previously noticed. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_207'></a>207</span> +</p> +<p> +Culligore, momentarily taken aback by the Phantom’s +quick and unexpected move, was losing no time. +Already he was scampering down the stairs in pursuit +of the fugitive. The cellar was dark, save for the +narrow shaft of light slanting down from the basement, +and the Phantom heard him muttering to himself +as he picked his way through the gloom. +</p> +<p> +After a few moments’ search the Phantom’s fingers +found the tiny rift in the brick surface that +marked the location of the door. Culligore, evidently +hesitating to use his electric flash for fear of +becoming a target for the Phantom’s pistol, was +scudding hither and thither at the opposite end of +the cellar. The Phantom crawled into the opening, +feet foremost, and softly pulled the door to, then lay +on his back, chuckling gently to himself as he pictured +the lieutenant’s discomfiture. +</p> +<p> +He had no fear that Culligore would find his hiding +place. The door was so carefully concealed +that only a careful search would reveal its location, +and the detective did not even suspect its existence. +Yet the Phantom knew that he would not be safe +for long. He could not remain in the tunnel indefinitely, +and escape through the other end was impossible, +for he had previously ascertained that the +mechanism of the revolving window frame could not +be manipulated from that side. All he had gained +was time. He could only hope that his lucky star, +which so far had never deserted him, would once +more turn the situation in his favor. +</p> +<p> +His mind was working quickly while he listened +to Culligore’s movements in the cellar. Doubtless +the detective would soon summon assistance and +have the building surrounded, and then, unless some +chance and unforeseen development came to his +rescue, the Phantom’s position would be critical indeed. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_208'></a>208</span> +Even if the searchers should not find his hiding +place, he would eventually die from lack of air. +</p> +<p> +Suddenly his figure stiffened. He lay rigid, trying +to account for the curious sensation that had just +come to him. In a moment he knew what it was +a faint current of air was stirring in the tunnel. At +first he could not understand, for he was certain that +both exits were closed, and the tube itself was air-tight. +He worked deeper into the tunnel, trying to +trace the mysterious current to its origin, and presently +it came to him that, through some unaccountable +circumstance, the other end must be open. +</p> +<p> +It was mystifying, but the stirring of air could be +explained in no other way than that in some manner +the revolving window frame had come open. He +moved forward as rapidly as he could, hoping to +gain the exit and get out of the zone of danger +before the block was surrounded. By this time Culligore +must have discovered that his quarry had in +some inexplicable way escaped from the basement. +Perhaps he was even now cursing himself for his +vain-glorious boast that he would take the Gray +Phantom single-handed and unaided. +</p> +<p> +The movement of air became more noticeable as +the Phantom drew near the end of the passage. He +proceeded more slowly now, moving forward by +cautious twists and wrigglings, a few inches at a +time, carefully calculating each motion so as to make +no noise. There was something at once puzzling and +ominous about the open exit, and he could not know +what awaited him in the bedroom at the end of the +tunnel. +</p> +<p> +His progress became more difficult as he reached +the acclivity in which the passage terminated, for he +had been moving crab fashion, having entered the +tunnel feet first in order to be able to close the door +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_209'></a>209</span> +behind him, and the width of the tube did not permit +him to turn. Silent as a mole, he twisted his body +upward, all his senses on the alert against the slightest +hint of danger. Now his feet were almost at the +window frame. As he had surmised, the opening +was clear, and a few more twists would land him +on the floor of the bedroom. +</p> +<p> +Cautiously he thrust a foot through the opening, +but in a moment he drew it back. Then he lay rigid, +listening, for something warned him of danger. The +bedchamber was dark and there was not the faintest +sound; yet he knew someone was lying in wait for +him on the other side. +</p> +<h2><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_210'></a>210</span>CHAPTER XXIII—THE WATCHERS AT THE WINDOW</h2> +<p> +The Phantom strained his ears. Faint sounds +of breathing came to him; then a board +creaked ever so slightly under someone’s +weight. A watcher—or were there two?—was +standing just inside the window, guarding the exit. +The discovery nettled him, for it meant the loss of +precious seconds, but he thanked the warning instinct +that had prompted him to muffle his movements. It +had probably saved him from an unexpected attack +in the dark. +</p> +<p> +Warily he reached for the pistol in his hip pocket. +He was still listening, and now he was almost certain +that two watchers were standing close to the +window sill. Doubtless they were armed and ready +to spring upon him the moment he betrayed himself, +and his awkward position would make it extremely +difficult for him to defend himself. +</p> +<p> +He turned the situation over in his mind while he +waited. It had been a trap, of course. He remembered +the slight sound that had told him of the opening +of the door to the laboratory while he was fencing +for time with Culligore. Someone had looked +down on them from the head of the stairs, remaining +there long enough to take in the situation and +decide on a course of action. Doubtless he had +suspected that the Phantom would make an attempt +to reach the tunnel, his only avenue of escape, and +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_211'></a>211</span> +the plan had been to attack him as he came out of +the passage. +</p> +<p> +Again a board gave forth a slight creak, signifying +that one of the sentinels was growing impatient. +The Phantom was in a cramped position and, with +his feet above his head, he would be at a decided +disadvantage in a fight. He could still use his pistol, +but to do so would be dangerous, to say nothing of +the difficulty of taking aim in the dark. He was still +looking for a way out of the difficulty when one of +the watchers at the window spoke in a whisper. +</p> +<p> +“‘Slim!’” +</p> +<p> +“Well?” +</p> +<p> +“Hear anything of him yet?” +</p> +<p> +“Not a sound. Suppose he shouldn’t come out +at all, ‘Toots’?” +</p> +<p> +“What’s in has got to come out. He’ll come +acrawlin’ this way by ‘n’ by. Don’t you worry.” +</p> +<p> +The whispering voices were unrecognizable, and +the names were not illuminating, but the Phantom +did not think that the speakers were officers. More +likely they were members of the Duke’s band and +had gained entrance to the house during the absence +of Doctor Bimble and Jerome. It was even possible +that they had trailed the Phantom to the anthropologist’s +residence. +</p> +<p> +Again the man named Toots spoke. “I don’t like +this job a little bit. The Phantom’s a bad customer—a +reg’lar devil.” +</p> +<p> +“But we’ve got him this time. He’ll come this +way as soon as he notices the draft. He won’t be +suspectin’ a thing, and all we’ve got to do is grab +him. It’ll be as easy as picking a banana out of the +peeling.” +</p> +<p> +Toots was silent for a time. Evidently he stood +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_212'></a>212</span> +in great awe of the Phantom. “What about the +dick?” +</p> +<p> +“Oh, he’s taken care of. The boss is handlin’ +him. No danger of him buttin’ in on us.” +</p> +<p> +The Phantom listened intently, but was barely +able to distinguish the faint whispers. Slim’s last +remark was interesting. If Culligore had been attacked +and overpowered while searching the cellar, +then the Phantom was in no danger from the police +just at present. His only immediate problem was +how to deal with the two watchers. +</p> +<p> +“What’s the lay, Slim?” Toots was asking. +“Why is the big chief so all-fired anxious to get his +mitts on the Phantom?” +</p> +<p> +“Orders from the Duke. There’s a big job on, +but only two or three are in the know of it. All you +and me got to do, Toots, is to keep our mouths shut, +ask no questions, and collect our little bit when the +time comes. The boss will do the thinkin’ part.” +</p> +<p> +Again a silence fell between the watchers; then +Toots asked: “Why don’t one of us go to the other +end and smoke him out? I’m gettin’ tired of +waitin’.” +</p> +<p> +“What’s eating you? Time’s cheap, ain’t it? +The Phantom will come out when he gets ready.” +</p> +<p> +Another pause ensued; then the inquisitive Toots +asked another question. “What I don’t get atall is +how the ‘skirt’ figgers in the deal. Where does she +come in, Slim?” +</p> +<p> +The Phantom held his breath to catch the answer. +</p> +<p> +“Search me. All I know is that the Phantom has +a crush on her. I s’pose the boss thinks the Phantom +will be easier to handle if he’s got a grip on the +moll.” +</p> +<p> +“Where’s the boss keepin’ her?” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_213'></a>213</span> +</p> +<p> +“Say, ask me somethin’ easy. The boss don’t tell +me his secrets.” +</p> +<p> +The Phantom felt a twinge of disappointment. +Toots’ question had given him hope of learning +something about Helen’s whereabouts, but Slim’s +answer had quickly dashed it. +</p> +<p> +“I’m dying for a smoke,” he heard Toots whisper. +</p> +<p> +“Well, get back in the corner and have one. But +don’t make any noise, and be careful when you strike +the match.” +</p> +<p> +The Phantom heard Toots tiptoeing away from +the window. Then came a faintly scratching sound +as of a match being struck. A daring idea entered +the Phantom’s mind. For the time being the +enemy’s force was divided, and there was only one +watcher at the window. He saw a chance—a +slender and dubious one, but perhaps the only chance +he would have—to get the upper hand of the sentinels. +</p> +<p> +Bracing his shoulders against the wall of the passage, +he drew his electric flash from his pocket. His +right hand was already gripping the pistol. Holding +both in readiness for instant action, he pricked +up his ears and listened. Sounds of breathing told +him that Slim was standing a few inches from his +feet, perhaps looking directly at him through the +darkness. He had already decided that Slim was +the more resourceful man of the two. If Slim could +be put out of action, his difficulty would be more than +half solved. +</p> +<p> +His finger touched the little button, and a shaft +of light pierced the darkness. In the same instant +a head was thrust into the opening. A pair of startled +eyes stared at him for a moment—and in that +brief space of time the Phantom acted. His foot +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_214'></a>214</span> +shot out, delivering a sharp blow in the region of +the nose and eyes. With a cry of pain the man +tottered back, blood streaming from his face. +</p> +<p> +The Phantom extinguished his flash and flung it +through the opening. Toots, evidently wondering +what had happened, was jabbering excitedly, but +Slim gave no sound. With a swift and agile movement, +the Phantom jerked himself forward, dropping +his legs over the sill, and in another moment +he was standing inside the room. He stooped, ran +his fingers over the floor, and recovered the electric +torch, then darted noiselessly to one side. A pistol +shot sounded, followed by a sharp thud as the bullet +hit the wall a few feet from where he stood. +</p> +<p> +He leaped silently across the floor. The brief +flash emitted by the pistol had given him a glimpse +of Slim at the opposite wall. Before the man could +move, the butt of the Phantom’s pistol had crashed +down on his head. Uttering a feeble grunt, he sank +limply to the floor, and in the same instant came +another crack and flash, and a bullet whistled past +the Phantom’s head. +</p> +<p> +“You almost winged me that time, Toots,” he remarked +coolly, at the same moment dropping to his +knees and noiselessly crawling toward where Toots +stood with his back to the door. Another shot, fired +at random, lighted up the room for a brief instant, +giving him another glimpse of his adversary. +Swiftly and without making the slightest sound, he +advanced toward the door. Now he reached out a +hand, fumbling for a moment in the darkness until +he lightly touched one of Toots’ shoes. With a +swift and powerful motion he jerked the man’s feet +from under him. +</p> +<p> +The Phantom sprang to his feet and rushed out +of the room, turning the key in the lock on the other +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_215'></a>215</span> +side. He paused for breath while he brushed some +of the dirt from his clothes. He had vanquished +his adversaries, but possibly the shots had been +heard, and haste was necessary. He ran to the front +of the store. The street outside was quiet and dimly +lighted. Cautiously he opened the door and stepped +out, casting a quick glance up and down the street. +</p> +<p> +He made a few rapid calculations as he walked +to the corner. If Culligore had fallen into the +clutches of the Duke’s gang, as seemed likely from +the remark dropped by Slim, then he was still reasonably +safe so far as the police were concerned. +Yet, for the first time in many years, the Phantom +was haunted by misgivings. Each thought of Helen +Hardwick burned itself into his mind, leaving a scar. +The realization that the Duke’s minions had her in +their power was maddening. He felt an urge to find +her at once and snatch her away from her jailers. +</p> +<p> +Yet, at almost every step, he was hampered by +the designs of his enemies. There were traps and +snares everywhere. He had just escaped from one +of them, but another time he might not escape so +easily, and what would become of Helen then? +</p> +<p> +He shuddered at the thought. His mind was +as keen and his muscles as pliant as ever, but he was +playing against overwhelming odds, and the mere +thought of defeat was unbearable. To ask help of +the police was out of the question. His old organization +was scattered to the four corners of the +earth. Wade, his former chief lieutenant and now +his trusted friend, had grown too fat to be of much +use, and to reach him would be difficult. +</p> +<p> +Suddenly he thought of Thomas Granger. The +reporter’s journalistic instincts, coupled with his +fondness of strong drink, had given the Phantom the +feeling that he was not to be trusted. Those two +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_216'></a>216</span> +qualities aside, he had rather liked the fellow. +Granger had traits that appealed to him strongly. +He reconsidered the question as he stood on the +corner, glancing furtively in all directions to see +whether he was being spied upon. +</p> +<p> +In a few moments his mind was made up. For +Helen’s sake he must seek assistance somewhere, +and he was in no position to be squeamish about his +choice. A glance at his watch told him that it was +half past eleven. Pell Street was only a dozen short +blocks away, and a brisk walk brought him to Peng +Yuen’s door. +</p> +<p> +The wooden-featured Chinaman scanned his face +as he held the door open and bade him enter. +</p> +<p> +“There is fire in your eyes,” he observed as he +conducted his guest into the den. “Is it the little +Lotus Bud who is troubling the Gray Phantom? +The ‘Book of the Unknown Philosopher’ says——” +</p> +<p> +The Phantom interrupted him with a short laugh. +“Peng Yuen, for a man who doesn’t read the newspapers, +you are surprisingly well informed. I have +come to have a talk with my double.” +</p> +<p> +The Chinaman regarded him stonily. Two incense +sticks, burning before a hideous joss idol, filled +the air with acrid fumes. Peng Yuen, sucking a +bamboo pipe with gorgeous tassels, seemed to be +turning over a question in his mind. +</p> +<p> +“I think your friend is sleeping,” he said at +length. +</p> +<p> +“Then wake him,” directed the Phantom impatiently. +</p> +<p> +The Chinaman shrugged his shoulders and +touched a button on the wall, then motioned the +Phantom to enter. Granger was in bed, but he +looked up gloomily and stretched himself. There +was a litter of cigarette ends on the table, and torn +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_217'></a>217</span> +and crumpled newspapers were scattered over the +floor. +</p> +<p> +“Hope you’ve brought me a drink,” said Granger. +</p> +<p> +The Phantom shook his head. Then he sat down +on the edge of the bed and fixed the reporter’s face +with a keen and minutely searching gaze, as if exploring +the depths of his soul. +</p> +<p> +“What’s the idea?” asked the reporter. “You +look at me as if I were some kind of curiosity.” +</p> +<p> +There was a faint hint of doubt in the Phantom’s +face, but it vanished soon. +</p> +<p> +“I think you will do,” he declared. “There’s just +one quality in your face, Granger, that I can’t quite +analyze. It’s a weakness of some kind—your craving +for alcohol, perhaps. Anyway, I am willing to +take a chance on it. You are going with me.” +</p> +<p> +The reporter sat up, his face all eagerness. +</p> +<p> +“Wait,” commanded the Phantom; “I want to be +sure that we understand each other. I am making +the biggest play of my career. I am going after the +Duke’s crowd. My primary object is to get Miss +Hardwick out of their clutches. My secondary one +is to put the whole gang of sneaks and cowards behind +the bars, where they belong. If I succeed, it +will be as great a sensation as the <em>Sphere</em> ever sprang. +You are welcome to it, provided you accept the conditions.” +</p> +<p> +“What are they?” +</p> +<p> +“I am very likely to get into trouble before the +job is done. I may walk into the arms of the police, +or into one of the traps set by the Duke. I may get +shot, put in a dungeon, murdered, perhaps. You +are to follow me at a safe distance wherever I go, +never letting me out of your sight. If anything happens +to me I want you to take up the search where +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_218'></a>218</span> +I left off. Above all else you are to get Miss Hardwick +away from those ruffians. Do you agree?” +</p> +<p> +Impulsively, without a moment’s hesitation, +Granger put out his hand. The Phantom gripped +it. As he held it for a moment, another look of +doubt flickered across his face, but it was soon gone. +</p> +<p> +“Then get into your clothes,” he directed; “or +mine, rather. We might as well keep up the masquerade +a while longer. I am just a shade safer +when I am hiding behind your personality.” +</p> +<p> +“But what about me?” inquired Granger, making +a wry face. +</p> +<p> +“Give the dicks and bulls as wide a swath as you +can. At worst, they can only pick you up again and +take another impression of your finger prints, and +you will have to explain why you have shed your +gaudy feathers. If we have a bit of luck we’ll pull +off a stunt that the police won’t forget in many a +day. They’ll be so busy explaining their own mistakes +and blunders that they won’t ask many questions.” +</p> +<p> +He had found a whisk broom and was removing +from his clothing some of the grime and dust he had +gathered in the tunnel. He glanced impatiently at +his watch, while Granger dressed with time-consuming +care. +</p> +<p> +“Which way?” inquired the reporter. +</p> +<p> +“Do you suppose it’s too late to find the coffeehouse +pirate?” +</p> +<p> +“Doubtful, but you might try. Sometimes he +hangs around the Catharine Street joint till late.” +</p> +<p> +“What’s his name?” +</p> +<p> +“You might call him Matt Lunn. He has several +names, and he isn’t particular which one you use.” +</p> +<p> +The Phantom considered. “Is he close to the +inner circle of the gang? Does he share its secrets?” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_219'></a>219</span> +</p> +<p> +“I think he does, but I wouldn’t swear to it. +Anyhow, he is a lot closer to the big chief than I +ever got.” +</p> +<p> +The Phantom scowled while Granger adjusted his +tie. The reporter seemed almost as keen on sartorial +polish as on journalistic attainments. +</p> +<p> +“By the way,” inquired the Phantom, “who is the +illustrious personage that’s referred to as ‘the big +chief’?” +</p> +<p> +“He is the Duke’s chief agent. I don’t know his +name, and I’ve never seen him. Through underground +channels the Duke sends him orders from +his cell in Sing Sing. The Duke is the brain that +plans, and the big chief is the hand that executes. +Say, I’m being consumed with curiosity. Aren’t you +going to tell me something of your plans?” +</p> +<p> +“I haven’t anything definite. I shall go to the +Catharine Street coffee house and try to cultivate the +acquaintance of Mr. Matt Lunn. I mean to obtain +certain items of information from him. Just how I +shall go about obtaining them depends upon what +sort of man I find him to be. We’ll be on our way +whenever you are through primping.” +</p> +<p> +At last the reporter was ready. Peng Yuen was +stolidly smoking his pipe as they passed out. The +almond-shaped eyes narrowed a trifle as the Phantom +shook his hand, and for an instant he seemed about +to say something. In another moment he had +changed his mind, however, and with a queer little +grunt in his throat he went back to his green-tasseled +pipe. +</p> +<p> +With a final admonition to exercise care and discretion, +the Phantom left Granger outside the shop +and walked rapidly toward Catharine Street. He +had no reason for doubting the reporter’s sincerity. +Granger’s moral stamina might not be all that could +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_220'></a>220</span> +be desired; but, on the whole, the Phantom was well +pleased with the arrangement. It had already relieved +him of much worry and enabled him to center +his thoughts and efforts on the task before him. +</p> +<p> +He had no difficulty in finding the coffee house, a +crumbling and evil-looking hovel squeezed between +a sooty factory building and a squalid tenement. +Lights shone dimly through several windows in the +block, which had a gloomy and somewhat sinister +appearance, and he was looked at sharply by several +wretched creatures who passed him on the sidewalk. +The window and glass door of the coffee house were +covered with green paper blinds, but there was a +narrow opening through which the Phantom could +get a glimpse of the interior. +</p> +<p> +Some twelve or fifteen men were seated at long +tables, drinking coffee and smoking pipes or cigarettes. +The air was so heavy with tobacco fumes +that the Phantom could not distinguish their features +clearly, but he got the impression that they were a +disreputable lot. He looked in vain for anyone answering +the description Granger had given of Matt +Lunn. He walked away from the window and stood +at the curb, scanning the street in either direction. +At a corner a block away, he saw a shadowy figure +leaning against a stack of boxes outside a grocery. +</p> +<p> +“Granger is on the job,” he mumbled. +</p> +<p> +Then he turned quickly just as a huge, raw-boned +man appeared from the opposite direction and +walked into the coffee house. The Phantom caught +a glimpse of his face as he opened the door and +passed through, and that glimpse revealed a great, +livid scar over the left eye. +</p> +<p> +In an instant he knew that the man was Matt +Lunn. A thin, audacious smile hovered about the +Phantom’s lips as recognition flashed through his +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_221'></a>221</span> +mind. For a moment he hesitated, casting a swift +glance to the corner where Granger stood; then he +crossed the sidewalk and resolutely pushed the door +open. +</p> +<p> +A minute or two later, in a cheap, all-night lunchroom +a block down the street, someone was impatiently +jigging the hook of a telephone. +</p> +<h2><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_222'></a>222</span>CHAPTER XXIV—THE FACE IN THE LIMOUSINE</h2> +<p> +Twelve or more pairs of eyes looked up as +the Phantom walked into the coffee house. +They gave the newcomer a long, stony stare, +followed his brisk progress across the floor to a +table in the rear, then looked down again into coffee +cups and pipe bowls, as if the new arrival had been +completely forgotten. +</p> +<p> +With a view to obtaining an unobstructed view of +Matt Lunn’s face, the Phantom had chosen his position +carefully. He wished to study the man before +he approached him. A glance told him that Granger’s +description had been apt but incomplete. He +was a wicked-looking creature, with coffee-brown +complexion, eyes that were as hard and emotionless +as bits of colored porcelain, and thick, coarse lips +that were fixed in a perpetual sneer and gave him a +look of sullen ferocity that was set off strikingly by +the scar over his eye. +</p> +<p> +The Phantom noted these details and made his +deductions while he gave his order to a gaunt, hunchbacked +waiter. So far Lunn, who sat alone across +an aisle between the tables, had not even looked in +his direction and seemed totally unaware of his presence. +The others, too, appeared to be ignoring him, +but furtive glances and an occasional whisper warned +the Phantom that he was under surveillance. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_223'></a>223</span> +</p> +<p> +He sipped a little of the coffee that was brought +him, shoved the cup aside and strolled across the +aisle, seating himself opposite the man with the scar. +</p> +<p> +“Hello, Lunn,” he said easily, imitating Granger’s +manner of speech. It was a convenient opening, +even if he should not be able to deceive the man in +regard to his identity. +</p> +<p> +Slowly the other lifted his flinty eyes, fixing a +vacuous stare on the Phantom’s face, and pulled +hard at his pipe. “Hullo, yourself,” was his gruff +response. +</p> +<p> +“A bit grouchy to-night, Lunn?” bantered the +Phantom, resuming his study of the man at closer +range and confirming his previous suspicion that +Matt Lunn was a bully with a coward’s heart. A +cranning of necks and lowering glances signified that +the rest of the men in the room were following the +conversation. +</p> +<p> +“You called me by a different name last time you +saw me,” grumbled Lunn suspiciously. +</p> +<p> +The Phantom masked his momentary confusions +behind a grin. After all, he had scarcely hoped to +fool Lunn, for the latter and Granger had been intimately +acquainted for some time, and this was putting +the ruse to the acid test. +</p> +<p> +“You’ve got so many monickers, Lunn, that I +can’t remember them all. Which particular one +would you like to have me use to-night?” +</p> +<p> +“The same one you always used before, if you +know which one that is.” +</p> +<p> +Of a sudden the Phantom wished that Granger +had given him more explicit information regarding +Lunn. The man with the scar was plainly suspicious, +and the Phantom was not yet quite ready for +action. +</p> +<p> +“Tell me where I can connect with a drink,” was +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_224'></a>224</span> +his jocular evasion, “or I’ll call you a name you +never heard before.” +</p> +<p> +The other sneered. “There are some things that +hurt a lot worse than names do. One of them is +a knife in the side, and I’ve been told a fellow whose +name is Tommie Granger is going to get just that +unless he explains certain things to the big chief.” +</p> +<p> +The Phantom’s face sobered. “I’m ready to explain. +That’s why I looked you up to-night. But +we can’t talk in here. Suppose we take a walk +around the block?” +</p> +<p> +Lunn laughed derisively. “I was referrin’ to a +guy named Tommie Granger. He looks a lot like +you and he hands out pretty much the same kind of +spiel, and yet I could tell the difference almost as +soon as I put my lamps on you. Just the same, I’d +as soon walk around the block with the Gray Phantom +as with anybody else.” +</p> +<p> +He spoke the last sentence in a whisper, accompanying +the words with a grin that rendered his face +all the more repellent. The Phantom cast a quick +glance at the evil-looking faces at the other tables, +wondering whether Lunn had any confederates in +the room. They were the scum of the lower levels +of the underworld, and their blotched and hardened +features bespoke lives steeped in loathsome iniquities, +but, unless there were members of the Duke’s +organization among them, the Phantom saw no +reason why they should side against him. +</p> +<p> +He paid the hunchback and walked behind Lunn +toward the door. Sullen and covert glances followed +him, but none of the men rose, and he was permitted +to reach the door without interference. He glanced +back as he stepped out on the sidewalk and made +sure that Lunn and himself were not being followed. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_225'></a>225</span> +</p> +<p> +The man with the scar took a few steps down the +street, then stopped and whirled round. +</p> +<p> +“What’s the idea?” he demanded brusquely. +“Why did you walk in there and try to pass yourself +off as Tommie Granger?” +</p> +<p> +“Not so loud, Lunn.” The Phantom glanced +about him quickly. For the moment the block happened +to be deserted. Lunn was standing with his +back to the dark doorway of the factory building +which adjoined the coffee house. There was a menacing +scowl in his face and his right hand was hovering +over one of his pockets. +</p> +<p> +Again the Phantom darted a quick glance up and +down the street. The only person in sight was the +lonely figure leaning against the stack of grocery +boxes on the farther corner. Evidently Granger had +not moved a single step from his post. +</p> +<p> +“I’m listening,” said Lunn. “What’s the answer?” +</p> +<p> +“This is your answer.” With one hand the Phantom +pinioned Lunn’s arm; with the other he jerked +his pistol from his pocket and pushed it against the +other’s waist, shoving him into the shelter of the +doorway. Lunn, startled by the swift maneuver, +gave a throaty squeal. +</p> +<p> +“Be quiet!” commanded the Phantom. “I have +a few things to say to you, and I don’t want any +interruptions. I happen to know that you’re a member +of the Duke’s gang. Your crowd is after me +tooth and nail, and the reason you were so willing +to take a walk with me was that you hoped to catch +me off my guard and hand me over to your chief. +You’re a fool, Lunn. Cleverer men than you have +tried that and failed. Feel that?” +</p> +<p> +He jabbed the pistol harder against the other’s +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_226'></a>226</span> +waist, and a yawp of terror proved that he had read +Lunn’s character accurately. The big man, who +would have been a dangerous adversary if he had +gained the upper hand, was cowering. +</p> +<p> +“Now, Lunn,” said the Phantom sharply, “a few +quick answers may prolong your life by a good +many years. Did you ever hear of a young lady +named Miss Hardwick?” +</p> +<p> +“The name sounds kind of familiar.” +</p> +<p> +“Don’t stall! Miss Hardwick was kidnaped by +members of the Duke’s gang.” +</p> +<p> +“Ye-es.” Lunn gulped. “I—I think she was.” +</p> +<p> +“You <em>know</em> she was. Don’t you?” The question +was emphasized with a little extra pressure on the +pistol. +</p> +<p> +“I’ve been told the lady was kidnaped, but that’s +all I know. I didn’t have anything to do with that +job.” +</p> +<p> +The Phantom regarded him sharply, but his face +was indistinct in the gloom. “Who did?” +</p> +<p> +“I don’t know; I never heard.” +</p> +<p> +“Where was she taken?” +</p> +<p> +“I can’t tell you that, either. Say, there’s no use +poking a hole through me with that gat. I can’t tell +what I don’t know.” +</p> +<p> +The Phantom was inclined to believe him. Evidently +Granger had overestimated Lunn’s store of +inside information regarding the gang’s activities. +</p> +<p> +“There’s one thing you can tell me, and you had +better speak quickly. Where does this precious gang +hang out? Where is its headquarters?” +</p> +<p> +Lunn did not answer. He was breathing stertorously, +and he uttered a groan or grunt whenever the +pressure on the pistol was increased. +</p> +<p> +“Out with it!” The Phantom cast an uneasy +glance behind him as he spoke, but no one was in +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_227'></a>227</span> +sight. “You’ll never get out of here alive unless you +tell.” +</p> +<p> +The big fellow trembled. “I’ve sworn to keep my +mouth shut.” +</p> +<p> +“Well, I guess it wouldn’t be the first time you +have violated an oath. Where is the place?” +</p> +<p> +“Will you let me go if I tell you?” +</p> +<p> +An affirmative answer was on the Phantom’s +tongue, but he held it back. “No, Lunn, you are +not going to get off quite so easily. You might give +me a fictitious address, and I would have no way of +verifying it until too late. You will have to take me +there, and I sha’n’t let you go until I have satisfied +myself that it is the right place.” +</p> +<p> +Lunn groaned; and the Phantom looked dubiously +along the street. The words were no sooner out of +his mouth than a sense of diffidence assailed him. +To march an unwilling and treacherous guide +through the streets would be a hard and perilous +task even at that late hour. Then an idea came to +him. He would signal Granger and instruct him to +find a taxicab. +</p> +<p> +He turned slightly and looked out of the doorway, +waving his hand at the solitary figure on the +corner. In the next moment a short exclamation of +surprise fell from his lips. A big black car was +gliding down the street, slackening its pace as it drew +nearer. The Phantom, still pressing the pistol firmly +against Lunn’s body, saw that it was a limousine, and +he was at a loss to understand what a car of that +type was doing in such a squalid neighborhood. +Now it was crawling along very slowly, swerving +close to the curb as it came within a few feet of the +entrance to the coffee house. The driver was leaning +from his seat, as if looking for someone. +</p> +<p> +Of a sudden a hoarse cry rose in the Phantom’s +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_228'></a>228</span> +throat. Forgetting Lunn, he sprang from the doorway. +A face had appeared at the window of the +car—a white, rigid face with staring eyes and the +look of death spread over its features. +</p> +<p> +The face was Helen Hardwick’s. +</p> +<h2><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_229'></a>229</span>CHAPTER XXV—IN A CIRCLE OF LIGHT</h2> +<p> +She looked as though her whole being had frozen +into rigidity, and the glacial stare of her eyes +sent a chill through the Phantom’s veins. In a +moment he was on the running board, wrenching the +door open. He did not notice that the car gathered +speed just as he tumbled in. +</p> +<p> +“Helen!” he cried, throwing himself into the seat +beside her. “What’s the matter? What has happened? +Can’t you speak?” +</p> +<p> +Her body swayed slightly with the motions of the +car, but otherwise she did not stir. She sat erect and +immobile, with her face turned stonily to the window, +as if neither hearing nor seeing. He took one +of her hands. It was cold, clammy, and limp. A +groan broke from his lips. +</p> +<p> +Then, from a corner of the car, two shadows +leaped upon him with a suddenness that dazed him. +The pistol was still in his hand, but a stinging blow +over the knuckles made him drop it to the floor. +Helen Hardwick’s face, terribly still, held him under +a spell while his arms were twisted behind him and +his wrists secured with a stout cord that bit into his +flesh. Not until his legs had also been manacled did +a glimmering of the truth force itself through his +numbed senses; but even then he could think of nothing +but the woman at his side. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_230'></a>230</span> +</p> +<p> +“Is she—dead?” he asked. +</p> +<p> +Someone laughed. “Oh, no! She will come out +of it presently. We needed a decoy, and she refused +to accommodate us, so we gave her a hypodermic +injection. It worked fine.” +</p> +<p> +He braced his muscles as a vivid realization of +what had happened flashed upon him, but the cords +about his wrists and ankles held his limbs. Again +he had walked into a trap, but for once he did not +blame himself for his lack of caution. With eyes +open he would have rushed into a thousand traps if +Helen Hardwick was the bait. He glanced out of +the window, noticing that the car was gliding swiftly +through dark and deserted streets. +</p> +<p> +A hand reached out and pulled down the blind, +cutting off the view. The car was making numerous +turns, and he soon lost all sense of direction. The +man’s explanation of Helen Hardwick’s condition +had removed a crushing weight of horror from his +mind, and once more his head was functioning +clearly. +</p> +<p> +“Another of the Duke’s tricks, I suppose?” he +remarked. +</p> +<p> +“You suppose correctly,” was the answer. “You +have slipped out of our hands often enough, but this +time we have you. You haven’t a chance in the +world.” +</p> +<p> +The Phantom was silent for a time, realizing that +his captors had turned the trick neatly and with dispatch. +Evidently they were men of much finer +mental caliber than Matt Lunn and Dan the Dope. +It had been a clever ruse, and they had set the trap +very deftly. +</p> +<p> +“What’s the programme?” he inquired. +</p> +<p> +“You will see soon enough.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_231'></a>231</span> +</p> +<p> +The Phantom asked no more questions. Suddenly +he remembered Granger, and he wondered whether +the reporter had been able to follow the speeding +car. It was doubtful, he thought, unless Granger +had been lucky enough to find a taxicab in a hurry. +Yet the fellow was resourceful and keen-witted, and +it was possible—— +</p> +<p> +His thoughts were rudely interrupted. The car +slowed down, and almost in the same instant a hand +gripped him around the throat and shoved him back +against the cushion. Another hand put a cloth over +his mouth, and he became conscious of a cloying, +sickeningly sweetish odor. Gradually his sensations +drifted into chaos as his head grew heavier and +heavier. He heard voices, but they sounded as if +coming from a great distance, and he had an odd +feeling that the car was sliding down a bottomless +abyss. Then a great void seemed to swallow him +up, and he knew nothing more. +</p> +<p> +Finally, after what seemed a lapse of hours, his +mind drifted out of the stupor. There was a burning +sensation in his throat and he felt sick and weak. +He tried to move, but something restrained him, and +he had a dull impression that he was roped to a chair +and that the chair itself was clamped to the floor. +His eyelids fluttered weakly, and he closed them instinctively +as a door opened behind him. +</p> +<p> +Two men were entering the room, and one of +them was chuckling gleefully, as if he had just heard +a good joke. Though his thoughts were wandering +in a haze, it occurred to him that it might be well to +feign unconsciousness. He closed his eyes tightly +and sat motionless in the chair. The two men advanced +until they stood in front of him. The Phantom +felt their eyes on his face. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_232'></a>232</span> +</p> +<p> +“Capital!” exclaimed one of them, and he thought +there was something familiar about the voice. “Too +bad the Duke can’t be here and see this! It would +do his soul good to see his old enemy strapped to a +chair. Well, Somers, I guess this will be the end +of the Gray Phantom.” +</p> +<p> +The words stung the listener’s senses like a whiplash. +He tried to identify the voice, but he was +unable to recall where he had heard it before. +</p> +<p> +“We’ve got him just where we want him,” remarked +the man addressed as Somers, “and I don’t +think he’ll get away from us this time. It will be a +miracle if he does.” +</p> +<p> +“Not even a miracle can save him. The Phantom +is done for. You did a good job, Somers.” +</p> +<p> +“Oh, it was easy enough. All we had to do was +to shoot some dope into the moll, pose her in the window +of the car, and drive past the place where we +had been tipped off we would find the Phantom. I +was just wondering how to get him out of the joint, +when he walks out of a doorway, catches a glimpse +of the skirt, and rushes blindly into the trap. It +worked like greased lightning. Looks as though +he’d be dead to the world for quite a while yet.” +</p> +<p> +The Phantom repressed a smile. His superb constitution +was already shaking off the effects of the +chloroform. +</p> +<p> +“How is the little doll?” inquired the first speaker, +who seemed to be a man of authority in the Duke’s +organization. +</p> +<p> +“Chipper as a wild cat. She came to shortly after +we got here. That kid had spunk, and she’s all +there on looks. I don’t blame the Gray Phantom for +falling for her. I would myself.” +</p> +<p> +“Sentiment and business make a bad mixture,” was +the other’s dry comment. “Don’t let a pretty face +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_233'></a>233</span> +bedevil you, Somers. The young lady is here to +serve our purpose. After that——” +</p> +<p> +He stopped, and the ensuing pause somehow impressed +the Phantom as ominous. +</p> +<p> +“Well, then what?” asked Somers, and there was +a slight catch to his voice. +</p> +<p> +“She is a shrewd young thing and she knows too +much for our good. Our safety demands that—but +we’ll cross that bridge when we get to it.” He +laughed again, as if to rid his mind of unpleasant +thoughts. “I can scarcely realize that the Gray +Phantom is in our power at last. It’s almost too +good to be true.” +</p> +<p> +“It is true, though. Say, won’t he get a jolt when +he comes out of the daze and finds himself strapped +to a chair?” +</p> +<p> +“That isn’t the only jolt that’s in store for him. +We’ll give him a glimpse of the big show, just for +the moral effect it will have on him. Just a little eye +teaser, you know, Somers. Is everything ready?” +</p> +<p> +“Ready to a dot. Want to have a look?” +</p> +<p> +The other answered affirmatively, and the two +men left the room. The last part of the conversation +had been unintelligible to the Phantom, and he +did not try to puzzle it out. The unfinished sentence +and its train of vaguely disturbing thoughts haunted +him. Helen Hardwick was to serve some mysterious +purpose. After that—he wondered why he felt a +chill as he tried to imagine the rest. The words left +unspoken suggested terrifying possibilities. +</p> +<p> +He opened his eyes. Evidently the two men had +extinguished the lights upon leaving, for the room +was dark. With the fragmentary sentence still echoing +in his ears, he tore at the ropes, but the attempt +only bruised his wrists. +</p> +<p> +Suddenly he sat still, his eyes fixed on a tiny light +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_234'></a>234</span> +that had appeared in the back of the room. The +point of luminance grew larger and larger, swelling +into a circle of pale radiance, and in its center he +saw something that caused him to wonder whether +he was dreaming a madman’s dream. +</p> +<h2><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_235'></a>235</span>CHAPTER XXVI—THE PHANTOM HEARS A SCREAM</h2> +<p> +Rigid in every fiber, the Phantom stared at the +circle of light, which seemed to have appeared +out of nowhere. At first small as the head of +a pin, it gradually unfolded and expanded, at the +same time changing from white into a pale greenish +hue that dissolved the surrounding darkness into +translucent mist. +</p> +<p> +As it grew larger, the light wrapped itself around +an object of strange appearance. It was gray as +ashes and its shape gave forth a weird suggestion +that it had once been a living thing. The pale, +ghostly light that surrounded it like a nimbus gave +it a monstrous character. +</p> +<p> +“A skull!” mumbled the Phantom. Under ordinary +circumstances he could have looked upon it +calmly, but the stillness and darkness, broken only +by the pallid glow in the distance, gave the object +a mystical touch that cast a spell over his senses. +</p> +<p> +His nerves had withstood physical fear in its most +severe forms, but they quavered a little before this +subtle and bewildering manifestation. His weakness +nettled him and he closed his eyes and sought to +banish the thing from his mind, but the vision as it +lingered in his imagination was even more disturbing +than the reality. Again he opened his eyes and +looked fixedly to one side, determined not to let an +inanimate thing of bone upset his nerves. A slight +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_236'></a>236</span> +shiver ran through him as, among the shadows at +the wall, he discerned a dim shape. He could barely +distinguish its outlines, but again he received an impression +of something that had once pulsed with life +and was now hollow and dead. He peered sharply +at the blurred shape standing grimly erect a few feet +from his chair, and presently he saw what it was. +</p> +<p> +Then he laughed, but the laugh sounded a trifle +forced. He had seen a similar object before, in one +of the glass cages in Doctor Bimble’s laboratory, but +he had regarded it with no stronger feeling than mild +curiosity. Now, in the stillness and gloom, the sight +made him feel as if a dead hand had touched him. +He turned his head toward the opposite wall, and +there, etched dimly in the shadows, was another +figure. A few feet away he glimpsed a third, and in +the distance were a fourth and a fifth. +</p> +<p> +In the air there was a creeping chill, like a breath +from a tomb. He felt no fear, but he experienced +the acute depression that seizes even the strongest +when standing in the presence of death, and his physical +and mental distress was aggravated by his inability +to move even an arm. The stifling air made +him feel as though he were in a black and silent +mausoleum, with dead things on all sides. +</p> +<p> +An unaccountable fascination caused him to look +once more at the luminous circle. The greenish light +seemed to have grown a trifle dimmer, but the waning +of the glow only lent an added touch of hideousness +to the object in the center of the nimbus. It +fired his imagination, and he fancied that something +loathsome was staring out at him through the black +hollows where the eyes had been. +</p> +<p> +As the circular light faded, he thought it was +drawing closer to where he sat. As if gently propelled +by an invisible hand, the paling circle of light +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_237'></a>237</span> +was creeping slowly nearer, moving steadily toward +his chair. +</p> +<p> +He pulled at the ropes. Now the fringe of light +was so faint that the skull was only a shapeless blur, +but its dimness rendered its creeping approach all +the more uncanny. In a little while, if it continued +in its present course, it would touch his face. He +wondered why his senses shrank from the encounter, +for he knew that the contact could not harm him. +</p> +<p> +Finally the light died, leaving an intense, oppressive +darkness. Though he could neither hear nor +see, he was aware that the object was still creeping +toward him and that in a few moments he would +feel its chilling touch. There was something subtly +enervating about its silent and stealthy advance, +something that inspired him with a feeling he had +never experienced when standing face to face with +a foe of flesh and blood. +</p> +<p> +Then, without apparent cause, he sensed a change +in the atmosphere. The oppression suddenly left +him, and he knew instinctively that something had +halted the advance of the dreaded thing. He drew +a long, deep breath as he tried to account for the +relief that had come so suddenly to him. +</p> +<p> +His thoughts were interrupted by the opening of +a door at his back and the entrance of two men. He +could not see them, but their footfalls told him that +they were groping toward the point where he sat. +Silently they fell to work and released him from the +chair, but his arms and legs were still tied and he +was as helpless as before. He wondered, as he was +being carried from the room, what fresh ordeal +awaited him. +</p> +<p> +The two men carried him across the hall and into +another room, where he was placed in a chair. He +was surprised to see the sunlight streaming in +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_238'></a>238</span> +through the window, for the darkness from which he +had just emerged had left an impression of impenetrable +night on his mind. +</p> +<p> +“The big chief will be in directly,” announced one +of the men as they were leaving. +</p> +<p> +The Phantom felt a thrill of expectancy at the +thought that at last he was to come face to face +with the Duke’s chief agent. Then he began to look +about him. From where he sat, all that was to be +seen through the window was the murky wall of a +factory building. The room was small, and the only +furniture was a table and three chairs. In vain he +looked for something that might suggest a way of +escape. +</p> +<p> +He turned quickly as a step sounded outside the +door. It came open, and for several moments he +stared at the man who entered. Then he laughed, +a short, unnatural laugh that sounded hollow even to +himself. The man who stood before him was Doctor +Tyson Bimble. +</p> +<p> +He would never have guessed that the anthropologist +was the man through whom the Duke directed +his criminal enterprises from his cell in prison, but +on second thought the discovery was not so surprising. +Since their first meeting he had suspected that +anthropology was not Bimble’s sole interest in life. +He had felt that it was merely a cloak for other +activities, though it had not occurred to him what +these might be. +</p> +<p> +“You are pale,” observed Bimble, looking at him +through his thick lenses; “but I sha’n’t trouble to +feel your pulse this morning. I have no doubt it’s +normal.” +</p> +<p> +The doctor, with his stiltlike legs and top-heavy +head, seemed as ludicrous as ever, and his face wore +the same beatific smile that had greeted the Phantom +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_239'></a>239</span> +when they first met, but his eyes were a trifle stern, +and there was an unfamiliar briskness about his +movements. +</p> +<p> +The Phantom swallowed his emotions and braced +his mind for a duel of wits with the doctor. Many +a time in the past he had outmaneuvered men as +crafty as his present adversary. For the present he +tried not to think of Helen, for he would need a +clear mind and steady nerves if he was to help her. +</p> +<p> +“Have you made any new scientific discoveries +since I saw you last, doctor?” he inquired chattily. +</p> +<p> +Bimble’s eyes twinkled. “No; but I dare say you +have.” +</p> +<p> +“I have discovered a new use for skeletons.” +</p> +<p> +“New? You are mistaken, my excellent friend. +The efficacy of skeletons and like objects as means +of moral suasion has been understood for a long +time. I believe the wicked old doges of Venice used +similar methods when they wished to put their enemies +into a receptive frame of mind and did not +care to resort to physical torture. It is strange how +all of us—even a strong man like yourself—stand +in awe of objects associated with death and decay.” +</p> +<p> +“It is,” agreed the Phantom dryly. “But I don’t +quite get the idea. I admit the ghostly vaudeville +you staged for my benefit was a bit creepy. I would +rather face a regiment of smooth rascals like you +than a grinning skeleton. But if you expected me +to come out of that spook chamber a broken man you +are doomed to disappointment.” +</p> +<p> +“I didn’t, as a matter of fact.” The doctor smiled +amusedly. “I am well aware that it takes something +more than that to break a man like the Gray Phantom.” +</p> +<p> +“Then what was the object?” +</p> +<p> +“You shall see presently. My friend, you have +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_240'></a>240</span> +given me no end of trouble. Since the day you made +your first unexpected appearance in my laboratory, +I have done my best to save you from the police, +but you seemed determined to rush blindly into their +arms. I did not realize how stubborn and foolhardy +you were till the morning when I entered your bedroom +and found it empty. You knew the police were +combing the town for you, and I had hoped that +would keep you in.” +</p> +<p> +“It was a shameless abuse of hospitality,” confessed +the Phantom. “But I take it you were not +altogether unselfish in your desire to save me from +arrest.” +</p> +<p> +Bimble smiled as he ran his eyes up and down the +Phantom’s figure. “Borrowed feathers are not becoming +to you,” he observed critically. “These togs +are atrocious. But the idea itself was excellent. I +did not even guess that the Gray Phantom was masquerading +as a newspaper reporter until the trick +you played on Pinto and Dan the Dope gave me an +inkling of the truth. Then, last evening, upon my +return from a visit in the neighborhood, I found you +and Lieutenant Culligore in the basement of my +house. The few words I overheard were sufficient +to verify my suspicions. I saw that Culligore had +you cornered, and I guessed you would try to reach +the tunnel. Then—But I think you know the +rest.” +</p> +<p> +“All except what happened to Culligore.” +</p> +<p> +The doctor beamed. “Poor Culligore! He’s +really a much cleverer man than you would think—cleverer +than yourself, in certain ways. An automatic +equipped with a flash light and a silencer put +a bullet into his leg while he was looking for you in +the cellar. A most regrettable accident!” Bimble +laughed softly. “The poor man is now under my +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_241'></a>241</span> +professional care, and I fear he will not be out for +some time.” +</p> +<p> +“I can guess the nature of the professional attentions +you are giving him. But why were you so +anxious that I should not fall into the hands of the +police?” +</p> +<p> +“Because I had certain plans in which you were +concerned, and your premature arrest would have +seriously interfered with them. Can’t you guess +what they were?” +</p> +<p> +“The Duke has a goose to pick with me, I believe. +At any rate, I understand he is not very benevolently +disposed toward me.” +</p> +<p> +“You have been correctly advised. The Duke is +a very thoroughgoing hater, as you will discover +before we are through with you. Not only that, but +he is an adept in the gentle art of mixing business +and pleasure. He also knows how to bring down a +flock of birds with a single stone. Take, for instance, +the case of old Sylvanus Gage.” +</p> +<p> +“Yes,” murmured the Phantom, fixing the doctor +with a keen gaze, “the Duke showed his genius there. +He planned the murder very shrewdly so that the +guilt would be fastened on me. It was an admirable +way of getting revenge.” +</p> +<p> +The doctor smiled. “True, but it wasn’t so simple +as all that. You are not giving the Duke half the +credit he deserves. I told you that he always mixes +business and pleasure. These walls are deaf, so +there is no reason why I should not enlighten you. +Gage had been for years a member of the Duke’s +organization. It was through him the band disposed +of the proceeds from its activities. It was a risky +business and he lived in constant danger. Hence the +tunnel, which gave him a convenient avenue of escape +in emergencies. The housekeeper, an estimable soul, +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_242'></a>242</span> +knew that her employer was conducting some sort of +illegitimate business, and she assisted him in it to a +certain extent, which explains any symptoms of bad +conscience she may have shown. I don’t think, however, +that she was aware of Gage’s membership in +the Duke’s organization. Gage was a valuable man, +but his insatiate greed led him astray. He double-crossed +the band in financial transactions, and when +called to task for his crooked work he threatened to +cause trouble. To put it briefly, it was decided that +he must be put out of the way.” +</p> +<p> +“I see.” The Phantom smiled, but his eyes were +hard. “The Duke avenged himself on two persons +with one stroke. He not only removed Gage, but +arranged matters so that suspicion for the crime +would fall on me.” +</p> +<p> +“Exactly. You are now beginning to appreciate +the Duke’s many-sided talents. Of course, his main +object was to repay you for the merciless joke you +played on him when you put him and most of his +gang behind bars. Where to find you was a poser. +It was known that you had taken your treasures and +gone into hiding somewhere, but no one seemed to +have the faintest inkling of your whereabouts. +Knowing your sensitiveness about such matters, the +Duke guessed that the murder of Gage, with the circumstances +pointing to you as its perpetrator, would +smoke you out.” +</p> +<p> +“It was a good guess. I had to come out and +clear myself, and that gave the Duke his chance. +Now that you have me where you want me, what do +you propose to do with me? Am I to be handed +over to the police, or have you engaged passage for +me on the Stygian ferry?” +</p> +<p> +The question seemed to amuse the doctor. “If we +meant to hand you over to the police we would +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_243'></a>243</span> +scarcely have gone to such great lengths to save you +from arrest. What is to be done with you eventually +hasn’t been decided as yet. The Duke’s orders are +to dispose of you in whichever way will hurt you +the most and give him the ultimate degree of revenge. +There is a question involved in that. You are not +the kind of man that fears death.” +</p> +<p> +“Thanks.” +</p> +<p> +Bimble’s deceptively mild eyes regarded him carefully. +“I think there are certain other things that +would hurt you far more. For instance—But we +will drop that phase of the subject for the present +and get down to the more practical side. As I told +you, the Duke always mixes business and pleasure, +which in this case means a judicious blend of revenge +and profit.” +</p> +<p> +The Phantom’s brows went up. A tinge of greed +and craftiness had dimmed the habitual look of +serenity in the doctor’s eyes. He was looking down +at his scrupulously polished shoes while playing with +his watch chain. +</p> +<p> +“How?” asked the Phantom. The uncertainty +as to his own fate did not trouble him in the least, +but all his will power was needed to maintain a semblance +of coolness whenever he thought of Helen. +</p> +<p> +“You put in many very busy years at the pleasant +occupation of annexing other people’s property,” +murmured the doctor. “The magnitude of your enterprises +has been the talk of the whole continent. +There must be a good many millions stored away in +that retreat of yours.” +</p> +<p> +The Phantom smiled. Imaginative newspaper +writers had pictured the Gray Phantom living like +an East Indian potentate in some snug retreat, surrounded +by countless treasures and a splendor that +would have offered a gorgeous Arabian Nights’ setting. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_244'></a>244</span> +The fable, eagerly swallowed by the public, +seemed wildly grotesque in comparison with the +truth. +</p> +<p> +“You’re forgetting something, doctor. I never +had the Duke’s keen eye for business. I was not a +crook for the sake of the loot, but for the excitement +I found in the game, and I usually gave the stuff +away after I had had the fun of taking it. I haven’t +much that would interest the Duke.” +</p> +<p> +The doctor’s lips curled in a way that indicated +strong skepticism. “You will let me be the judge +as to that, my friend. All I ask of you is that you +tell me explicitly and veraciously where this collection +of yours may be found.” +</p> +<p> +The Phantom drew himself up as far as the ropes +permitted. The smile was still on his lips, but in the +depths of his eyes lurked a hard glitter. “What if +I refuse?” +</p> +<p> +“Why, man, you can’t refuse! You are in no +position to do anything but surrender to my wishes.” +</p> +<p> +“Wrong, doctor.” He gave a low, metallic laugh. +“You ought to know that the Gray Phantom never +surrenders. Threats and bullying can’t move me an +inch. That’s absolutely final.” +</p> +<p> +The doctor seemed not at all disconcerted. “I +expected you to say that. You are stubborn as a +mule, but fortunately I have means of persuasion at +my disposal. If I can’t bend you, I will break you.” +</p> +<p> +He rose abruptly and left the room. There had +been something in his tones that lingered in the +Phantom’s ears after he had gone. He was back +in a few moments, and once more his face was +wreathed in smiles. Without a word he sat down, +crossed his thin legs, and lighted a cigarette, then +smoked in silence while the Phantom scanned his face +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_245'></a>245</span> +for a clew to the mysterious errand that had taken +him out of the room. +</p> +<p> +Minutes passed, and still the doctor smiled and +smoked. From time to time he raised his tranquil +eyes and glanced at the door as if expecting somebody, +and all the while there was an air of pleasurable +anticipation about him. +</p> +<p> +Suddenly the Phantom stiffened. For a moment +he sat rigid, listening, then jerked forward in the +chair, straining fiercely at the ropes. +</p> +<p> +Somewhere in the building a woman had screamed. +The shriek, sharp and explosive, as if inspired by a +terror long restrained, dinned with hideous significance +against the Phantom’s ears. His heart stood +still for a moment. +</p> +<p> +The voice that had uttered that mad, unforgettable +cry was Helen Hardwick’s. +</p> +<h2><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_246'></a>246</span>CHAPTER XXVII—THE PHANTOM’S RUSE</h2> +<p> +The doctor placidly finished his cigarette. The +sleek, genial smile had not left his face for +an instant, and his eye still held the same +twinkle of languid amusement. +</p> +<p> +“Miss Hardwick is a very plucky young woman,” +he murmured, “but evidently the spook chamber, as +you so aptly termed it a little while ago, has proved +too much for her nerves. The cry we just heard +seemed to indicate that she was in great distress. +Being alone in a dark room with nothing but skeletons +for company is not a very pleasant experience +for a woman.” +</p> +<p> +The Phantom’s face turned a shade whiter. For +a moment he was dazed by the realization that +Helen was undergoing the same excruciating ordeal +to which he himself had been subjected. The ghostly +spectacle had caused even his strong nerves to writhe +and he shuddered at thought of the effect it must +have on her more delicate organism. +</p> +<p> +“I gave you a little taste of it just to enable you +to appreciate Miss Hardwick’s predicament,” continued +the doctor in matter-of-fact tones. “The +arrangement is simplicity itself. My excellent +Jerome fixed it up. The scenic effects are so simple +that a child could have handled them. Yet you will +admit, I think, that they serve their purpose. I once +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_247'></a>247</span> +knew a person—not a weakling, either—who went +mad under similar pressure. It is strange how——” +</p> +<p> +Another shriek, not so loud as the first, but long-drawn +and hoarse, interrupted him. He paused for a +moment, eyeing the Phantom with a level glance +while the scream lasted, then fell to polishing his +lenses. +</p> +<p> +“As I was about to remark,” he went on, “it is +strange how darkness and a touch of the grewsome +affect one’s mind. The soul seems to shrink from +such things. The reason, I think, must be atavistic. +The poor wretch I was telling you about, the one +who lost his mind——” +</p> +<p> +“Stop it!” cried the Phantom. His voice was +husky. “Get her out of that room before she goes +mad!” +</p> +<p> +Doctor Bimble seemed suddenly interested. “Do +I understand that you are willing to listen to reason? +Are you ready to reconsider the suggestion I made a +while ago and which you so grandiloquently rejected? +In other words, are you willing to tell me +where your treasures are hidden?” +</p> +<p> +“Yes—anything! I’ll do whatever you ask. Only +stop that infernal hocus-pocus at once!” +</p> +<p> +“Oh, very well.” There was a smile of keen +gratification on Bimble’s lips as he got up and left +the room. +</p> +<p> +The Phantom, every limb shaking, stared at the +door through which he had passed. Suddenly his +blood-streaked eyes grew wide. He remembered +something that was almost as terrifying as the shrieks +he had just heard. His thoughts went back to the +moment when he had awakened in the dark room, +and he recalled the snatches of conversation he had +overheard. +</p> +<p> +One of the two speakers, he was now almost certain, +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_248'></a>248</span> +had been Doctor Bimble. The voice had +sounded familiar, and he would probably have recognized +it but for the dazed condition he was in. One +of the doctor’s sentences had burned itself into the +Phantom’s brain: +</p> +<p> +“The young lady is here to serve our purpose. +After that——” +</p> +<p> +He saw it all in a blinding flash that scorched like +fire. With their usual cunning the Duke’s men had +perceived that neither by torture nor by threats of +death could the Gray Phantom be forced to comply +with their desires. They had known that he held +his life lightly and could suffer personal punishment +like an Indian. And so their diabolically crafty +minds had conceived the idea of letting Helen Hardwick’s +agonized cries pierce his armor of pride and +obduracy, thus accomplishing what could never have +been accomplished by other means. +</p> +<p> +They had judged him accurately, was his grim +reflection. Rather than see a hair of Helen’s head +harmed he would gladly make any sacrifice. But +the sinister significance of the doctor’s words had +been plain. The Phantom would not insure Helen’s +safety by accepting Bimble’s terms. Evidently, Miss +Hardwick had come into possession of information +which the gang feared she might divulge if set free, +and consequently she was to be silenced forever as +soon as Bimble’s purpose had been attained. +</p> +<p> +While he awaited the doctor’s return the Phantom +thought quickly. By accepting Bimble’s terms he +would only be hastening Helen’s doom, for the gang, +having no further use for her after they had gained +their ends, would probably put her to death quickly. +On the other hand, by rejecting the conditions, he +would at least gain time. In the meanwhile Bimble +might inflict cruel suffering upon her, but his selfish +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_249'></a>249</span> +interests would restrain him from taking her life, +for, once he had done so, his sole hold upon the +Phantom would be gone. +</p> +<p> +The reasoning was plain, but he found it hard to +reach a decision. Perhaps death would be merciful +in comparison with the tortures that Bimble might +subject her to. He was caught between the jaws +of a fearful dilemma, and the only sane course he +could see was to play for time. +</p> +<p> +Doctor Bimble returned. “Why do women never +swoon until the worst is over?” he questioned in +whimsical tones. “Miss Hardwick is a surprising +young lady, but she is not free from the foibles of +her sex. She had no sooner been taken out of the +dark room than she promptly collapsed.” +</p> +<p> +The Phantom held back the biting words on his +tongue, but he could not forego a look of withering +contempt. +</p> +<p> +“Do you know,” the doctor went on, “I am almost +certain that Miss Hardwick knows where your retreat +is located? In fact, she let slip something that +convinces me she does. But do you suppose the +stubborn little beauty would tell? Not she! I don’t +believe the fear of eternal fires could force her to +speak.” +</p> +<p> +He had guessed correctly, but the Phantom carefully +refrained from signifying by a look or a word +that it was so. Miss Hardwick knew about Sea-Glimpse, +and it was with mingled feelings the Phantom +heard of her refusal to reveal the secret. Had +she become aware, through some process of divination, +that her life would be forfeited the moment the +information was in the doctor’s possession, or had +she been guided by other reasons? +</p> +<p> +“So you see,” continued Bimble in smooth tones, +“that you will save the little lady from all sorts of +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_250'></a>250</span> +unpleasantness by acceding to my very reasonable +terms. It would be a shame if such a charming +woman should become a gibbering maniac as a result +of obstinacy on your part. Where did you say this +place of yours is situated?” +</p> +<p> +“I haven’t said yet.” The Phantom forced a +laugh. “Before I do, you and I must have a definite +understanding. Do you agree to set Miss Hardwick +free the moment I have given you the information?” +</p> +<p> +“What an unreasonable question, my dear Phantom! +I agree to do nothing of the kind. I shall +keep Miss Hardwick here until I have satisfied myself +that you have been dealing with me on the square +and that the directions you have given me are accurate.” +</p> +<p> +“Fair enough. But after you have satisfied yourself +in regard to my good faith, what then?” +</p> +<p> +“Then,” said the doctor, and there was not a trace +of guile in his face, “Miss Hardwick shall be immediately +released.” +</p> +<p> +“On your word of honor?” +</p> +<p> +“On my word of honor.” +</p> +<p> +“Snake!” the Phantom was tempted to say, but +he pretended to be satisfied. Already his mind was +inventing a ruse. He would gain several hours of +valuable time by inveigling the doctor into a search +for a place that had existence only in the Phantom’s +imagination. In the meantime several things were +likely to happen. It was just possible that Granger +had been able to trace the movements of the limousine +and would come to the rescue. At any rate, the +Phantom believed that if he could but stave off the +crisis for a while his customary luck would once +more reassert itself. +</p> +<p> +His mind worked fast. Doubtless the doctor +knew that he had arrived in New York less than +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_251'></a>251</span> +twenty-four hours after the Gage murder. Allowing +for slow and infrequent trains and the time required +for news to reach out-of-the-way places, he +would have to choose a point that was not more than +ten or twelve hours removed from New York. With +a mental picture of the map before his eyes, he outlined +a highly imaginative route to the doctor. +</p> +<p> +Bimble made a few notes. Then he looked up, +and for once there was an ominous glint in the +usually placid eyes. +</p> +<p> +“My men will start at once,” he announced. +“They will be instructed to wire me as soon as they +have reached their destination. I hope, for Miss +Hardwick’s sake, that you have not tried to deceive +me.” +</p> +<p> +With that he was gone; but the softly spoken +words, edged with just the faintest trace of a sinister +note, lingered for a long time in the Phantom’s +memory. +</p> +<h2><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_252'></a>252</span>CHAPTER XXVIII—PINTO’S CONFESSION</h2> +<p> +The Phantom awoke with a start, vaguely conscious +that he had been sleeping for several +hours. Shortly after his interview with Doctor +Bimble, he had been removed to a small dark +room with a single shuttered window, through which +no sunlight or air entered. The ropes around his +wrists and ankles had been removed, but his movements +were restricted by a chain only a few feet long, +one end of which was padlocked to his right leg while +the other was clamped to the wall. +</p> +<p> +Jerome, more tight-lipped than ever, had brought +him a meal, and he had eaten with relish, after +which he had lain down on the cot and gone to sleep. +A lessening of his mental tension had come with the +conviction that Helen was in no immediate danger +and would be safe until the doctor heard from his +messengers, which he probably would not do until +after midnight. +</p> +<p> +He had slept soundly, and now he was refreshed +in body and mind. He inspected his surroundings +with a keen eye. The little room was admirably +adapted to the purposes of a cell. Even if he were +inclined to shout for help, the shutters doubtless +would render such an effort useless. The room was +sparsely lighted by an electric bulb in the ceiling, and +he noted that the door, walls, and floor had a substantial +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_253'></a>253</span> +appearance. The only objects within his +reach were the cot and a table. +</p> +<p> +His face fell as he took an inventory of his +pockets, noticing that all that remained of his belongings +was a watch and a handkerchief. His wallet, +with Dan the Dope’s pistol, was gone, and so was +the little metal box that on so many occasions had +enabled him to squeeze out of tight corners. The +chain was not heavy, but strong enough to resist all +the force he could muster, and each end was fastened +in a way that left him no hope of escape. +</p> +<p> +“The worthy doctor is taking no chances,” he +muttered. “He has left me as helpless as a newborn +babe. Wonder where I am.” +</p> +<p> +He had no idea where the black limousine had +taken him, for it had traveled a devious course, and +he had been chloroformed before it reached its destination. +He was certain he was not in Doctor +Bimble’s house, for he had searched that dwelling +from cellar to attic and there had been no room in +it that resembled this one. Probably he was in some +other house controlled by Doctor Bimble or one of +his associates. +</p> +<p> +After all, where he was did not matter, greatly. +The one thing that concerned him was his helplessness, +for evidently the doctor had taken every conceivable +precaution against his prisoner’s escape. +Everything considered, it was as hopeless a situation +as the Phantom had ever faced. +</p> +<p> +A glance at his watch told him it was nearly four +o’clock. He had eight hours in which to accomplish +the seemingly impossible before the doctor should +learn from his agents that they had been sent out on +a wild-goose chase. He shuddered as he contemplated +what would be the consequences if he failed. +Yet, he told himself, the course he had taken was +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_254'></a>254</span> +the only one possible under the circumstances. If +he had directed the doctor’s agents to Sea-Glimpse, +Helen’s usefulness to the organization would have +been ended, and then—— +</p> +<p> +He turned quickly as the door opened, admitting +Doctor Bimble, with a newspaper in his hand. +</p> +<p> +“Thought you would be interested in the news +about Pinto,” began the doctor, advancing somewhat +cautiously and taking care not to step within +the narrow half circle that bounded his prisoner’s +movements. The Phantom regarded him languidly, +for his mind was on other things. +</p> +<p> +“Has Pinto recovered consciousness?” he asked +indifferently. +</p> +<p> +Bimble nodded. “Much sooner than the doctors +expected, and he has celebrated his return to consciousness +by making a rather interesting statement.” +</p> +<p> +“Not a confession?” The Phantom was still +speaking in dull tones. In the last few days he had +almost lost sight of the purpose that had called him +to New York. The danger threatening Helen +Hardwick had seemed far more important than the +mystery of the two murders. +</p> +<p> +“Well, you might call it that, though it probably +isn’t the kind of confession you have in mind. Pinto +has made a clean breast of everything, but he still +insists that you murdered Gage.” +</p> +<p> +“That’s a contradiction,” mumbled the Phantom. +“He is not making a clean breast of things so long +as he denies his guilt.” +</p> +<p> +“His statement sounds fairly convincing, nevertheless. +He admits practically everything except that +he committed the murder. For instance, he frankly +admits that he concealed the body of the housekeeper +and——” +</p> +<p> +“That in itself is evidence of his guilt.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_255'></a>255</span> +</p> +<p> +“But Pinto has what looks like a satisfactory explanation. +He seems to be an honest, hard-working, +unimaginative fellow, not overintelligent, and deeply +devoted to his wife and baby. You probably know +the type. He says that for months before Gage was +murdered he had a queer premonition that something +of that kind was to happen, and he never passed the +house without an uneasy feeling. I suppose what he +really means is that he had noticed signs of strange +doings about the place, and that without analyzing +his impressions he found it getting on his nerves. +</p> +<p> +“Pinto reiterates his previous assertion that Gage +made a dying statement accusing you of the crime. +He admits, however, that he felt nervous about the +whole affair. The poor fellow was in a very trying +position. After forcing the door, which was bolted +on the inside, and listening to Gage’s dying words, +he made a careful examination of the room, paying +particular attention to the little window which was +so narrow that no grown person could possibly have +crawled through it. He did not understand how +even an accomplished person like the Phantom could +have committed the murder and escaped from the +room. +</p> +<p> +“Then, all of a sudden, Pinto got panicky. Even +his crude intellect perceived that it looked as though +nobody but himself could have committed the murder. +He thought of his wife and his baby, and he +did not relish the idea of being tried for murder. +As he saw it, he might easily be convicted and sent +to the chair. However, his fears proved unfounded, +for nobody accused him of the crime, and Pinto +could breathe freely once more.” +</p> +<p> +“But what about the housekeeper?” inquired the +Phantom, gradually becoming more interested. +</p> +<p> +“I am coming to that. After the murder of Gage +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_256'></a>256</span> +Pinto got into the habit of visiting the house between +rounds. He was still hoping to discover a way +whereby the Phantom could have escaped from the +room. Late one night, according to his statement, +he found the housekeeper’s body in the same room +where Gage had been murdered. He says the body +was still warm, so the woman could not have been +dead long. At the discovery all his fears returned +with trebled force. The supposition, he thought, +would be that the murderer of Gage had also killed +Mrs. Trippe. The Gray Phantom was supposed to +be in jail at the time and therefore could not be +accused of having murdered the housekeeper. +</p> +<p> +“Pinto was in a terrible quandary. Since, as he +thought at the time, the Phantom could not have +murdered Mrs. Trippe, it might be questioned +whether he had murdered Gage. The whole case +might be reopened, in which event he feared the +finger of suspicion must inevitably point to him. +Again Pinto thought of his wife and baby, and, the +more he thought of them, the more nervous he became. +He did a foolish thing, as men often do when +fear conquers reason. He could think of nothing +to do but cover up the crime until he could get a +chance to think the thing over, and so he carried +the body upstairs and concealed it behind some packing +cases. Later, after it developed that the Phantom +had not been in jail and had no alibi, he saw +no reason for concealing the body longer. He explains +at length what happened when he went to the +storeroom to drag it out and was interrupted by +you.” +</p> +<p> +Bimble smiled blandly, but he was studying the +Phantom’s face out of the corner of an eye. “What +do you think of Pinto’s confession?” +</p> +<p> +The Phantom considered while he glanced at the +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_257'></a>257</span> +papers Bimble handed him. The statement was +there, just as summarized by the doctor. Granting +a crude intellect and a mind not too analytical, he +thought it quite possible that an innocent man might +act exactly as described in Pinto’s statement. +Further, the story had all the earmarks of truth, for +a guilty mind would have tried to invent a less grotesque +tale. Of a sudden the Phantom found that +all his calculations and theories in regard to the +murder had been upset by Pinto’s surprising and unexpected +explanation. +</p> +<p> +“Why ask me?” was his reply. “You know the +murderer.” +</p> +<p> +“Perhaps. I was just curious to hear what you +would think.” +</p> +<p> +There was a wrinkle of perplexity on the Phantom’s +brow. Assuming that Pinto was innocent, the +difficulties in the way of solving the mystery and +exculpating himself had been vastly complicated. +</p> +<p> +“If Pinto didn’t do it,” persisted the doctor +suavely, “who do you suppose did?” +</p> +<p> +The Phantom could not tell why, but the question +gave him a mental jolt. In the past few hours his +concern for Helen had claimed all his thoughts, and +before that he had been so firmly convinced of +Pinto’s guilt that there had been no room in his mind +for other suspicions. The possibility that someone +other than the policeman might be involved had not +occurred to him. +</p> +<p> +He looked up and found the doctor’s soft eyes +searching his face with an odd intensity. Bimble +seemed intent on ascertaining what deductions his +prisoner would make from Pinto’s statement, and +apparently this had been the only reason for his call. +</p> +<p> +“My question seems to have stumped you,” he +observed. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_258'></a>258</span> +</p> +<p> +The Phantom shrugged his shoulders. “With +Pinto eliminated, I’m entirely at sea. In view of the +bolted door and the size of the window, I don’t see +how anyone else could have murdered Gage, unless——” +He checked himself abruptly, and of a +sudden he saw a great light. In the next instant a +smile masked his agitation. “Unless,” he finished +with a chuckle, “I did it myself.” +</p> +<p> +Bimble seemed satisfied. “Excellent logic, my +friend,” he murmured as he stepped to the door. +With his hand on the knob he turned and fixed his +gaze on the Phantom’s face. “I shall pay you another +visit as soon as I hear from my men.” +</p> +<p> +His tone carried a sinister emphasis, but the Phantom +scarcely noticed it. +</p> +<p> +“With Pinto eliminated,” he said half aloud when +the door had closed, “only one other person could +have committed the murders. And I know that +person!” +</p> +<h2><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_259'></a>259</span>CHAPTER XXIX—THE PHANTOM’S VISITOR</h2> +<p> +With quick and nervous steps the Phantom +walked back and forth within the narrow +semicircle allowed him by the chain. The +solution of the mystery had come to him in a flash +of intuition, but his elation had been brief. It was +now half past eleven, and after cudgeling his wits +for hours, he found the problem of how to extricate +himself and Helen from their predicament as insolvable +as ever. +</p> +<p> +Soon Bimble would receive word from his messengers +that they had been hoaxed, and then Helen +would be subjected to another agonizing ordeal in +the dark room. The Phantom shuddered as his +imagination pictured her strapped to the chair in that +chamber of ghastly things. Again he looked sharply +about the room, hoping against hope that something +would suggest a way of escape to him. +</p> +<p> +He found nothing. The only objects were the cot +and the table, and they offered no solution whatever. +His pockets contained nothing but a handkerchief +and a watch, together with the cigarettes and +matches Jerome had brought him with his dinner. +At least a score of times during the late afternoon +and evening he had given the chain a minute inspection, +only to be convinced that it could not be tampered +with. With the aid of a small nail or a penknife he +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_260'></a>260</span> +might have been able to pick the lock that +held it to his ankle, but not even a pin had been left +him. +</p> +<p> +The Phantom was all but ready to admit defeat. +His only fortifying thought was that he had never +yet been the loser in a game of wits, and that for +Helen’s sake he could not fail now. +</p> +<p> +He rose quickly from the cot as the door opened +and Doctor Bimble strode into the room. His face +was dark, and a look of sullen anger had taken the +place of his usual smile. +</p> +<p> +“You lied!” he declared gruffly. “I half suspected +you would, but I hardly thought you would attempt +anything so clumsy as this. What have you gained +by it?” +</p> +<p> +“Time,” said the Phantom, pretending a coolness +he did not feel. +</p> +<p> +The doctor laughed derisively. There was a dull +flush in his cheeks and an ugly glitter in his eyes, but +again he took care not to step within the Phantom’s +reach. +</p> +<p> +“Time! Bah! Really, Vanardy, you’re simpler +than I thought. Just as if a few hours more or less +could make any difference! You will either tell me +what I want to know, or, Miss Hardwick will go to +the madhouse or the grave. She will be as harmless +in one place as in the other. I trust you understand?” +</p> +<p> +“Your meaning is perfectly clear.” The Phantom +spoke in level tones. “If you would come a step +closer, I should take extreme pleasure in beating you +within an inch of your life. But you have no inclination +in that direction, I see. Like most of your +kind, you are a coward.” +</p> +<p> +“Words never hurt.” +</p> +<p> +“Furthermore,” continued the Phantom, “you will +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_261'></a>261</span> +be in jail before Miss Hardwick goes to either of +the places you have just mentioned.” +</p> +<p> +“Jail?” The doctor stared as if he thought the +statement utterly preposterous. “Jail! Ha, ha! +Good joke coming from a man who can’t move six +feet.” +</p> +<p> +“Enjoy it while you can. As you may remember, +I perpetrated the same kind of joke on the Duke, +and he doesn’t seem to relish that brand of humor.” +</p> +<p> +The doctor winced as if an unpleasant thought had +been suggested to him, then walked stiffly to the door. +“Remember,” was his parting shot, “if you persist in +your obstinacy, it will be either the madhouse or the +grave for Miss Hardwick.” +</p> +<p> +He slammed the door as he went out, and the +Phantom’s face sobered the moment he was alone. +His threat had not been altogether an idle one, for +it had driven a wholesome misgiving into the doctor’s +heart; yet the Phantom was painfully aware +that he was in a desperate situation. Throwing +himself on the cot, he turned the problem over and +over in his mind. Black as the outlook seemed, he +could scarcely believe that all was lost. He still had +faith in his star, and it was this that had braced him +and enabled him to speak with such confidence in +Doctor Bimble’s presence. +</p> +<p> +After a while something drew his gaze to the +window. He listened intently. A faint scraping +sound reached his ears, and it occurred to him that +it had been going on for several minutes, though he +had been too preoccupied to notice it until now. He +got up and stepped as close to the window as the +chain permitted. Now he heard it again—a slow, +dull grinding and scraping that remotely suggested +that someone was attacking a metallic object with a +blunt tool. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_262'></a>262</span> +</p> +<p> +He waited breathlessly. Evidently someone was +trying to enter the room, and he wondered whether +the intruder was coming as friend or foe. Perhaps +the amazing luck that had so often turned a critical +situation in his favor was once more coming back to +him. +</p> +<p> +A click sounded, then the boards in front of the +window came apart, and the Phantom gasped as +Thomas Granger jumped into the room. +</p> +<p> +“You!” he exclaimed. +</p> +<p> +“Not so loud!” whispered the reporter. He was +still wearing the Phantom’s clothing, and the garments +were wrinkled and streaked with dirt. “The +house is full of members of the Duke’s gang. Holy +smoke, you’re certainly in a fix!” +</p> +<p> +He stared at the cabin, then looked quickly about +the room. “Don’t ask me how I found you. I had +a devil of a time, and it’s a longer story than I’ve +got time to tell. Lookouts are stationed in front +and in rear, and it was only by sheer luck and some +quick fist work that I got through. How am I to +get you out of here?” +</p> +<p> +The Phantom regarded him thoughtfully. “Didn’t +you know that Doctor Bimble was the Duke’s chief +representative?” he asked. +</p> +<p> +“Never had the faintest idea.” +</p> +<p> +“This room is in the rear of the house, I believe.” +</p> +<p> +“Yes, but——” +</p> +<p> +“You were lucky to locate my window as easily as +you did.” +</p> +<p> +“That wasn’t luck. I tried several before I found +yours. Twice I bumped into the Duke’s men. I +hate to think what that bunch would do to me if they +caught me.” He made a wry face. “But this isn’t +getting you out of here. We’ll have to get a move +on.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_263'></a>263</span> +</p> +<p> +Strangely enough, the Phantom seemed absolutely +calm and in no hurry whatever. “I haven’t been +able to get my bearings,” he announced. “Where is +this house?” +</p> +<p> +“Next door to Doctor Bimble’s.” +</p> +<p> +The Phantom started. “The one with boarded +windows and doors?” +</p> +<p> +“That’s the one. The front is boarded-up, and +from the street it looks like a vacant house. Nobody +would suspect that it was the headquarters of +the Duke’s gang. I suppose Bimble owns or controls +both houses, and there is probably a connecting passage +somewhere.” +</p> +<p> +The Phantom knitted his brows. He had seen no +such passage when he searched the Bimble residence. +However, that proved nothing, for it might be so +carefully concealed that a hasty search would not +reveal it. The arrangement, he thought, was rather +ingenious. No one who had seen the anthropologist’s +home, where everything suggested artlessness +and love of simple comforts, would have suspected +that the occupant was using the adjacent house for +the conduct of criminal enterprises. +</p> +<p> +“Miss Hardwick is somewhere in the building,” +he remarked. “Her safety is the first consideration.” +</p> +<p> +“Worse still. You and I might be able to fight +our way through, but with a woman on our hands +it’s almost certain death. It wouldn’t be so bad if +there weren’t so many against us. I have only one +gat. How about you?” +</p> +<p> +“A watch, a handkerchief, a package of cigarettes +and some matches are my sole possessions just now.” +</p> +<p> +The reporter scowled. “The Duke’s men would +be sure to pounce on us before we could get her out +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_264'></a>264</span> +of the house, and I don’t suppose Miss Hardwick is +bullet-proof.” +</p> +<p> +“What would you suggest?” +</p> +<p> +Granger reflected. “Have you any friends in +town?” +</p> +<p> +“As far as I know, Peng Yuen is the only one. +There may be others, but I wouldn’t know where to +find them.” +</p> +<p> +“Peng Yuen doesn’t look much like a scrapper. +We can’t appeal to the police, for they are after you +just as hard as the Duke’s men are. I’d give half +my life to be able to meet that bunch in a fair and +even fight. Too bad you haven’t any friends handy. +Say”—and Granger looked as though he had suddenly +snatched an inspiration out of the air—“what +about the place where you live? Haven’t you got +some friends there?” +</p> +<p> +The Phantom looked thoughtful. Rumor had it +that he had taken a few carefully selected members +of his former organization with him to his place of +retirement. His lips twitched a little. +</p> +<p> +“It would take sometime to get them here,” he +murmured, “and we must act in a hurry.” +</p> +<p> +“But it’s our only chance. We’ll wire them to get +a fast car and burn up the roads. I’m rather stuck +on the idea of organizing an expedition and rushing +to the rescue of a fair lady in distress. Write out +your telegram, and I’ll sneak out and file it.” +</p> +<p> +The Phantom, chuckling as though he had caught +the contagion of the other’s enthusiasm, made as if +searching his pockets for pencil and paper. “All +right. I guess, after all, it is the only thing we can +do. A pitched battle in the heart of New York will +be something of a novelty. Have you a pencil and +a scrap of paper?” +</p> +<p> +Granger stepped up to the table and handed out +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_265'></a>265</span> +the desired articles. With the reporter standing at +his elbow, the Phantom placed the paper on the +table, poised the pencil over it, and stood as if framing +a message in his mind. Suddenly, with a motion +as quick as that of a metallic spring, his hand darted +out and gripped Granger’s. Then, with another +surprisingly swift movement, he jerked the reporter +down on the cot and shoved a knee against his chest. +</p> +<p> +“Tommie Granger,” he said in low, measured +tones that throbbed with exultation, “I’ve been waiting +a long time to lay my hands on the murderer of +Gage and Mrs. Trippe.” +</p> +<h2><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_266'></a>266</span>CHAPTER XXX—THE ROOM IN THE BASEMENT</h2> +<p> +The reporter’s face went white. +</p> +<p> +With lips gaping, he lay rigidly still, staring +into the Phantom’s hard face. There was a +look of great fear in his eyes, and for several moments +he seemed incapable of motion. Then he +began to wriggle, twist, and squirm, but his efforts +were rendered futile by the knee on his chest and +the firm clutch in which his hands were held. +</p> +<p> +“When did you guess it?” he muttered, forcing a +sneering grin to his face. +</p> +<p> +“Just a little while ago. I’ve acted the simpleton +throughout the whole affair. I was so sure of +Pinto’s guilt that it never occurred to me to suspect +anyone else. The moment Pinto was eliminated, I +knew you were the murderer. I saw then what I +should have seen at once—that Gage was murdered +by a man who looked so much like me that, when +Gage saw the face of the scoundrel, he was sure it +was the Gray Phantom. That’s why he told Pinto +that I was the murderer.” +</p> +<p> +Granger drew in his breath and opened his mouth +as if to shout for help, but the knee pressing against +his chest strangled the cry. +</p> +<p> +“It was all very cleverly arranged,” the Phantom +went on, “I suppose you were selected for the job +because you happen to resemble me. The very entertaining +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_267'></a>267</span> +story you told me at Peng Yuen’s was +probably a skillful blending of truth and fiction. +How you happened to join the Duke’s gang and how +you carried out its orders under cover of your profession +really make no difference. The only thing +that matters is that you’re going to the chair for +those two murders.” +</p> +<p> +The reporter, gathering his wits, gave a contemptuous +laugh. “The chair, eh? Not just yet, I +guess. Several things are likely to happen to you +first.” +</p> +<p> +“That remains to be seen. You are fairly clever, +Granger, but your cleverness won’t help you now. +You hood-winked the police very neatly. They had +the murderer once, but they felt so sure I was the +man they wanted that they let you go as soon as you +had satisfied them you were not the Gray Phantom. +It was a fairly good joke. I perpetrated another +good joke myself when I went to you and borrowed +your identity, never guessing that you were the murderer. +You took it all in good part, because you +couldn’t do anything else, but all the while you were +scheming to hand me over to the Duke’s crowd.” +</p> +<p> +“It was rich! You were so easily taken in that +I had to laugh whenever you turned your back.” +</p> +<p> +“I admit it. The reason you took me in so easily +was partly because you were a member of an honorable +profession, and partly because of the note +handed me by Dan the Dope, which seemed to prove +that you were on bad terms with the Duke’s crowd. +That appeared to confirm your story that you had +joined the organization for the sole purpose of obtaining +inside information. The details of your +relations with the gang are not clear to me yet, but +neither are they important. If you don’t mind, I’ll +relieve you of this handy little implement.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_268'></a>268</span> +</p> +<p> +With a deft motion he reached into Granger’s +pocket and extracted the reporter’s automatic. Then +he removed the knee from the man’s chest and covered +him with the weapon. +</p> +<p> +“The cutest trick of them all,” he continued with +a grim chuckle, “was your crawling in here to-night +through the window and pretending to have eluded +the Duke’s sentinels. Of course, the sole object of +your dramatic entrance was to inveigle me into revealing +the whereabouts of the place where I live. +I suppose the worthy doctor had begun to despair +of his ability to worm the information out of me by +the original plan. It threatened to take too long and +entail too many risks, and so he thought he would +try a short cut. You led up to the proposition very +adroitly, but I saw through the ruse almost at once.” +</p> +<p> +Granger, having got a precarious grip on his +nerves, laughed shakily. “You’re a first-class guesser—but +guessing won’t get you out of this fix. It isn’t +very likely you’ll ever see daylight again. As for +the dear girl——” +</p> +<p> +“Leave her out of it!” commanded the Phantom +curtly. He thought it unlikely Miss Hardwick would +be molested further until Bimble had learned the +result of Granger’s mission. In the meantime, he +told himself, he must make the most of the slight advantage +he had gained. He studied the reporter +keenly, and all at once an inspiration came to him. +“Miss Hardwick,” he went on in casual tones, “has +an amazing knack of taking care of herself. It +wouldn’t surprise me at all if she had already found +a way out of the amiable doctor’s clutches.” +</p> +<p> +“Hardly!” Granger gave another hoarse, sneering +laugh. “She’s smart, all right, but the big chief +knows it, and he isn’t taking any chances. He has +locked her up in the basement, in a room barely large +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_269'></a>269</span> +enough to turn around in, with a stout door and no +window.” +</p> +<p> +“The basement, eh?” The Phantom seemed not +at all interested. “This room we are in is on the second +floor, isn’t it?” +</p> +<p> +“Third,” said Granger, after puzzling for a moment +over the question. +</p> +<p> +“Good!” The Phantom smiled. “You have told +me exactly what I wanted to know, Granger, and +since you couldn’t know the object of my questions, I +believe that for once you have spoken the truth. +Kindly elevate your hands.” +</p> +<p> +A thrust with the pistol emphasized the command, +and Granger sullenly obeyed. With his free hand +the Phantom explored the reporter’s pockets until he +found a small silver-handled knife. +</p> +<p> +“My property, I believe,” he murmured, examining +the tool with a critical eye. “It’s one of the things +you acquired when we swapped clothes and identities. +A very handy article, Granger. I’ve been wishing +all night for something of this kind, but the doctor +thoughtfully emptied my pockets. Sit very still, +Granger.” +</p> +<p> +He spoke with a brisk, cutting emphasis. Moving +to the other end of the cot and keeping one eye on +Granger, he opened the knife and with the sharp-pointed +blade began to pick at the lock that held the +chain to his ankle. The pistol lay close at his side, +ready to be picked up at a moment’s warning. In +a short time the lock had yielded to the deft touch +of his fingers, and his ankle was free before Granger +quite realized what he was doing. A shout rose in +the reporter’s throat, but in an instant the Phantom’s +fingers were at his windpipe. +</p> +<p> +“Quiet!” he warned. “I don’t care to be interrupted +just yet. Granger, I don’t like the togs I’ve +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_270'></a>270</span> +been wearing the last few days, and you have worn +mine just about long enough. We are going to make +a quick change. Strip!” +</p> +<p> +The reporter glared, but his lips trembled and the +shaking of his limbs indicated that he was in need of +his favorite stimulant. +</p> +<p> +“Hurry!” urged the Phantom, making a little +flourish with the pistol. “Bimble is likely to walk in +on us at any moment to see what is keeping you so +long. Will you strip voluntarily, or must I tap you +on the head and undress you? I don’t like to be +rough.” +</p> +<p> +The reporter seemed impressed by the argument. +With surly acquiescence he kicked off his shoes and +started removing his suit. The Phantom, a thin smile +hovering about his lips, followed the other’s example, +keeping the pistol within easy reach while the exchange +was in progress. In a little while he was once +more garbed in the familiar gray which was his favorite +color. +</p> +<p> +“This is better!” he commented. With an absentminded +air he picked up the chain. For a moment +or two his fingers toyed with the lock; then, stooping +quickly, he looped the end of the chain around Granger’s +leg. The reporter growled out a curse as the +lock snapped shut. +</p> +<p> +“Put your hands behind you!” commanded the +Phantom, again making a menacing gesture with the +pistol. The reporter, his ashen face twitching, glowered +savagely as he obeyed, and in a few moments the +strings had been removed from his shoes and twisted +tightly about his wrists. Finally the Phantom tore a +strip from the table-cloth, fashioned it into a gag and +thrust it between the reporter’s teeth. +</p> +<p> +“I’m really very much obliged to you, Granger,” +he murmured dryly as he put the revolver and the +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_271'></a>271</span> +knife into his pockets. “If you hadn’t come to me +with that barefaced hoax, I should still be wearing a +chain around my ankle. Too bad I can’t offer you +a drink. You seem to need one.” +</p> +<p> +With elastic step he walked to the door. There +he pushed a button, and the room went dark. There +was a glow in his cheeks and a tingle in his veins as he +stepped out in the hall, closing the door behind him. +Looking up and down the silent corridor, he saw a +stairway at the farther end, and hastened in that direction. +At the head of the stairs he all but collided +with Doctor Bimble. +</p> +<p> +“Well, Granger?” +</p> +<p> +The Phantom thanked his lucky star that the lights +in the hall were dim. Under the circumstances, it +was the most natural thing in the world for Bimble +to suppose that he was addressing the reporter. He +knew that Granger had been wearing the Phantom’s +clothes, and the latter was supposed to be chained +securely to a wall. +</p> +<p> +“<em>No luck</em>,” announced the Phantom, simulating +Granger’s manner of speech. “I gave him exactly the +line of talk you suggested, but he spotted the trick +right off. He wouldn’t listen to me at all.” +</p> +<p> +Even in the dusk the Phantom saw a spiteful look +creep into the doctor’s face. +</p> +<p> +“Doesn’t he still think you are on his side?” +</p> +<p> +“He seems to have his suspicions,” answered the +Phantom, carefully weighing his words, “but he is +keeping them to himself. I tried my darndest to +flimflam the information out of him, but it was no +use. He’s about the smoothest article I ever came +across.” +</p> +<p> +The doctor nodded curtly as he swung around and +started to descend the stairs, the Phantom following. +</p> +<p> +“I’ll break him yet,” muttered Bimble vindictively. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_272'></a>272</span> +“In a few moments he’ll hear a tune that he won’t +like. Miss Hardwick is going to make another trip +to the spook chamber, as our mulish friend so aptly +termed it. I guess he will come across with the information +when he discovers that we mean business.” +</p> +<p> +They reached the floor below. As they passed +a light in the hall, the Phantom saw a look of venomous +determination in the doctor’s face, and he knew +that a terrible ordeal would be in store for Helen if +Bimble was permitted to have his way. The anthropologist +opened a door, and the Phantom glanced +into the room over his shoulder. About a dozen men, +the expressions on their faces ranging all the way +from low cunning to sullen brutality, sat at a long +table playing cards. +</p> +<p> +“Jepson!” called the doctor, taking a bunch of keys +from his pockets. +</p> +<p> +A tall, raw-boned individual with features suggestive +of a gorilla’s rose from the table and approached +them, with dragging gait. +</p> +<p> +“I want you and Granger to bring Miss Hardwick +here immediately,” directed Bimble handing Jepson +one of the keys. +</p> +<p> +The tall man nodded and slunk away. The Phantom, +keeping in the shadows as much as possible, followed +him down two flights of stairs. Here and +there, at a turn in the halls or stairs, they encountered +soft-footed, wary-eyed men who passed them in silence. +</p> +<p> +“The whole crowd seems to be about to-night,” +observed the Phantom. +</p> +<p> +“Sure,” said Jepson. “The big chief don’t like +to take chances. He means to rush a bunch of us to +the Phantom’s place as soon as he finds out where it +is. There may be a scrap when we get there.” +</p> +<p> +“Quite likely.” The Phantom repressed a smile. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_273'></a>273</span> +There was a fever in his veins, and he wished Jepson +would walk faster. They descended into the basement, +sparsely lighted by a small bulb suspended over +the stairs, and Jepson picked his way carefully over +the floor. Finally he stopped before a door, inserted +a key in the lock, and walked in. +</p> +<p> +The room was dark, but a quick gasp, resembling +a sudden intake of breath, told the Phantom it was +occupied. His body tingled with suppressed excitement. +Jepson was standing in the doorway, and a +light scraping sound indicated that he was running his +hands over the wall in search of a switch. +</p> +<p> +As light flooded the narrow room the Phantom +stifled an exclamation. In a chair at the wall sat a +slender figure, rigidly still save for the trembling of +the hands clasped across the bosom. Long waves of +lustrous hair framed a face white as alabaster, and +the large brown eyes were staring at Jepson with an +expression of dread. There was a quiver in the distended +orbs, as if a frightful recollection were lingering +in their depths. +</p> +<p> +She shrank back against the chair as Jepson lumbered +toward her. For a moment longer she remained +motionless, then a long-drawn moan sounded +in her throat, and with hands thrust out she sprang +from the chair. +</p> +<p> +“You sha’n’t take me back there!” she cried in +tones edged with fury and terror. “I won’t go back! +I won’t!” +</p> +<p> +“Easy now, lady! No use kicking up a fuss.” Jepson +roughly seized her arm, squeezed it until she uttered +a sharp cry of pain, and started dragging her +toward the door. +</p> +<p> +Then, of a sudden, the Phantom’s fist shot out. +Hard as steel, it delivered a stinging, crunching blow +between Jepson’s eyes, and the big brute dropped to +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_274'></a>274</span> +the floor like a dead weight. The girl stood immobile, +staring at the twisted shape at her feet as if +unable to understand what had happened. Then, +very slowly, she raised her eyes until they met the +Phantom’s. +</p> +<p> +“You?” She spoke lowly, as if not quite recognizing +him at first. Dazedly she drew her hand +across her forehead. “Are you the Gray Phantom +or——” +</p> +<p> +“I am the Gray Phantom. Don’t you know me—Helen?” +</p> +<p> +She gazed at him long and searchingly. A soft +gleam penetrated the film of terror in her eyes. +</p> +<p> +“Yes, you are the Gray Phantom.” The words +sounded hushed and strained. She came a step closer +and placed her cold hand in his. There was a faint, +tremulous smile on her lips. “Can you forgive me—for +doubting you?” +</p> +<p> +“One little whisper from your lips makes everything +right,” he murmured softly, gently drawing her +from the room and locking the door. +</p> +<p> +“I couldn’t help it,” she whispered. “Everything +seemed to point to your guilt.” +</p> +<p> +“It did,” admitted the Phantom, “and I don’t +blame you. I suppose Granger lied to me when he +told me he got into disgrace with the Duke’s gang +because of his refusal to abduct you. He’s a skillful +mixer of truth and fiction. What happened to you? +Who kidnaped you?” +</p> +<p> +“One of Doctor Bimble’s men, I suppose. I slipped +out of the laboratory while you and the doctor +were reading the paper. I was sick at heart. What +you had told me while we were in the closet expressed +my feelings. It seemed as though an idol had fallen +off its pedestal and broken to bits, like ordinary clay. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_275'></a>275</span> +Well, I had almost reached the front door when +someone sneaked up behind me, thrust a black cloth +down over my head and carried me upstairs. I must +have been chloroformed, for shortly afterward I lost +consciousness. +</p> +<p> +“The next day Granger called on me in the little +room where they were keeping me. I think his object +was to learn the location of Sea-Glimpse. I was—well, +I was stubborn and wouldn’t tell him. I received +a shock the moment I saw him and noted his +striking resemblance to you. All at once I knew he +was the murderer. It came to me in a flash, and of a +sudden I understood the meaning of Gage’s statement.” +</p> +<p> +“There must be such a thing as feminine intuition, +after all,” was the Phantom’s comment. “Of course +you told him to his face that he was the murderer?” +</p> +<p> +“I guess I did. The words seemed to tumble out +of themselves. I think I told Bimble the same thing +that evening. He seemed greatly alarmed.” +</p> +<p> +The Phantom started. “Intuition is sometimes a +very dangerous faculty,” he murmured. “It is +very likely to—But this is no time for talking. Jepson +will be dead to the world for some little time, +but the house is bristling with gangsters. I must get +you out of here somehow.” +</p> +<p> +He looked quickly about the dimly lighted basement. +There was a window on each side, but both +were covered by shutters and iron grilles, and the +only exit seemed to be the stairs. +</p> +<p> +“What about yourself?” asked the girl. +</p> +<p> +“Oh,” with a low laugh, “I have a task that yet +remains to be finished. But you——” +</p> +<p> +Suddenly a little gasp slipped from the girl’s lips, +and she seized his arm convulsively. Her gaze was +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_276'></a>276</span> +rigid, and the Phantom looking in the same direction, +saw Doctor Bimble standing in the stairs with a leveled +pistol in his hand. +</p> +<p> +“Don’t stir!” was the anthropologist’s crisply spoken +warning. “You will please note, my dear Phantom, +that I’m not aiming at you, but at Miss Hardwick. +She’ll be dead the moment you make the slightest +move!” +</p> +<h2><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_277'></a>277</span>CHAPTER XXXI—AT BAY</h2> +<p> +The Phantom scarcely breathed. He stood +utterly still while the doctor came down the +remaining steps and halted at the foot of the +stairs. The pistol, pointed at Helen with a steadiness +that bespoke a deadly aim, inspired him with a sense +of awe a thousand times greater than if it had been +leveled at himself. +</p> +<p> +The girl’s hand was still on his sleeve, and, without +looking directly at her, he knew that she was facing +the menacing pistol without flinching. Her slight +touch on his arm gave him a feeling of tenderness +and strength. Already his wits were at work. In his +hip pocket was the weapon he had taken from Granger, +but he could not reach for it without jeopardizing +the girl’s life. +</p> +<p> +“Cruel trick you played on Granger,” observed the +doctor, standing a dozen feet away. “I don’t know +how you managed it, but you seem to have a special +talent for such performances. Fortunately one of my +men happened to enter the room in which you left +the poor fellow, and he saw how things were. Well, +Phantom, one thing is sure, you have played your +last trick.” +</p> +<p> +The Phantom maintained his attitude of immobility, +but Bimble’s words had given him an inward +twinge. As far as he could see, the doctor had appraised +the situation with accuracy. The windows, +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_278'></a>278</span> +with their shutters and iron bars, seemed impregnable. +The murky walls and the low ceiling gave +forth an impression of solidity that accentuated his +sense of bafflement. The way to the stairs was +barred by Bimble with his pistol, and the rooms and +corridors above were swarming with the Duke’s men. +And meanwhile the Phantom dared not bend a +muscle, for fear of causing Helen Hardwick’s death. +</p> +<p> +“You will admit that you are very neatly cornered?” +taunted the doctor. +</p> +<p> +“It would seem so,” admitted the Phantom dryly, +“but I have been cornered many times before. +There’s nothing very original in the situation.” +</p> +<p> +“No, nothing except that you wriggled out of the +others, while this one will hold you till I am through +with you. Don’t you think it would be the part of +wisdom to submit and tell me what I want to know?” +</p> +<p> +“Never!” declared the Phantom with emphasis. +</p> +<p> +“Wouldn’t it be better?” whispered Helen. +“He’ll kill us both unless we do.” +</p> +<p> +“It’s his intention to kill us, anyway,” the Phantom +whispered back. “The only reason he hasn’t +killed us already is that he hopes to persuade us to +give him the information he wants. Afraid?” +</p> +<p> +“Not for myself. But you——” +</p> +<p> +“Then step behind my back as quickly as you can.” +</p> +<p> +The girl looked up at him with an expression of +uncertainty. +</p> +<p> +“Hurry!” whispered the Phantom. “It’s our only +chance.” +</p> +<p> +She hesitated a moment longer; then, with the swift +motion of a startled doe, she darted aside and stood +at his back. The blue steel of the pistol barrel flickered +for an instant as the doctor transferred his aim +to the Phantom. Evidently the sudden movement +had disconcerted Bimble. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_279'></a>279</span> +</p> +<p> +“A fairly clever maneuver,” he acknowledged, +“but you have gained nothing by it.” +</p> +<p> +“I am satisfied,” declared the Phantom, his spirits +rising again. “You can’t reach Miss Hardwick with +a bullet without first perforating me, and you have no +intention of killing me until you have learned what +you want to know. Eh, Bimble?” +</p> +<p> +The doctor’s lips twisted into an ugly sneer. “We +shall see,” he muttered irately. “You are a clever +man, Phantom, but your cleverness can’t help you +now.” +</p> +<p> +He plucked a small metallic instrument from his +vest pocket and brought it to his lips. Three short, +shrill whistles pierced the silence. With a gratified +grin on his lips the doctor restored the little metal +tube to his pocket. The third blast had no sooner +sounded than a tumult of discordant noises came +from above. Bimble looked gloatingly at the Phantom +as the sounds drew nearer. A man ran down +the stairs, quickly followed by a second and a third. +Others kept arriving, in groups of three or more, +until the Phantom had counted twenty-four. +</p> +<p> +Like a great human fan, the crowd spread out in +a triangle along the walls and about the foot of the +stairs. As each man took his place in the line, the +Phantom gave him a quick appraising glance. In +their faces he read low cunning, brutish instincts, and +stolid obedience to orders, but the keener wit and subtler +intellect which the Phantom had always demanded +of his men were lacking. +</p> +<p> +He read each face as if it were an open page, and +finally his gaze rested on Doctor Bimble. The anthropologist +was a craftier man by far than his subalterns, +but at a glance the Phantom’s keen eye +picked out the weak spot in his moral fiber. Already +a plan was forming in his mind. All he was waiting +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_280'></a>280</span> +for was a favorable combination of circumstances +that would enable him to act. +</p> +<p> +The pistol in the doctor’s hand was still pointing +straight at the Phantom’s chest. Bimble’s expression +was a repulsive mixture of cruelty and smug satisfaction. +</p> +<p> +“I trust you are convinced that resistance is useless, +my dear Phantom,” he declared in drawling tones. +“There are more than twenty of us, as you see.” +</p> +<p> +“Excellent!” remarked the Phantom. “I am glad +to see so many of you here.” +</p> +<p> +“Glad?” The doctor seemed a little dumfounded. +“Why, pray?” +</p> +<p> +“Because having you all here in this room will +make my task much easier.” +</p> +<p> +“Your task?” +</p> +<p> +The Phantom laughed easily. “You must surely +know that it is my intention to hand you all over to +the police?” +</p> +<p> +Bimble stared. Twice he opened his mouth, but +no words came. The Phantom’s cool audacity +seemed to have silenced his tongue. +</p> +<p> +“Are you crazy?” he asked at length. +</p> +<p> +“Never was saner in my life. It is my firm intention +to turn every one of you over to the police. +That’s why I am glad to see so many of you gathered +in one room.” +</p> +<p> +He smiled as he spoke, but his heart was not in his +smile. He was turning an audacious plan over in his +mind, but he was not at all sure that he would have +a chance to put it into execution. At his back he +heard Helen’s quick, nervous intakes of breath, and +he turned his head slightly. +</p> +<p> +“The Gray Phantom’s star has never yet set,” he +whispered. +</p> +<p> +A low, quavering laugh was the girl’s response. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_281'></a>281</span> +</p> +<p> +Bimble was still staring at him as if doubting his +sanity. “<em>You</em> think you are going to turn <em>us</em> over to +the police!” he exclaimed. “Ha, ha! Still in a jocular +mood, I see. It won’t last long. For the last time +I ask if you will accept my terms.” +</p> +<p> +The Phantom sent him a contemptuous glance. +“One doesn’t make terms with sneaking hyenas like +you,” he declared. +</p> +<p> +“Very well.” Bimble ran his eye over the triangle +of faces, and his gaze fell on a stout, tough-limbed +man with a reddish face. +</p> +<p> +“Wilkes,” he directed, “pull that devoted pair +apart and carry the young lady to the room upstairs +where the skeletons are. Be careful not to get in +front of my pistol.” +</p> +<p> +The stout man stepped out of the line. A coarse +grin wreathed his face as he approached the Phantom +and the girl from the side. +</p> +<p> +“Get back!” whispered the Phantom to Helen. +Slowly, step by step, the two moved backward until +Helen stood against the wall. Then the Phantom, +looking straight into the muzzle of Bimble’s pistol, +reached back and wound his arms around the girl’s +slender waist. +</p> +<p> +“Pull us apart if you can,” he told Wilkes as he +interlocked his fingers behind Helen’s back. +</p> +<p> +The stout man stopped and scratched his head, as +if confronting a problem too complex for his wits to +solve. A look of diffidence crossed Bimble’s face as +he noticed that the Phantom had once more balked +him. +</p> +<p> +“Knock him down if you can’t part them any other +way,” he commanded wrathfully. “Tap him on the +head with something.” +</p> +<p> +Chuckling, Wilkes drew a long revolver from his +pocket, gripping it tightly by the barrel as he cautiously +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_282'></a>282</span> +approached the Phantom from the side. Helen +gasped. +</p> +<p> +“Keep cool!” whispered the Phantom. “And +whatever happens, stay right at my back.” +</p> +<p> +He watched Bimble’s pistol out of one eye, while +with the other he followed Wilkes’ movements. For +an instant, as Wilkes swung the heavy weapon over +his shoulder, he tensed his muscles for action. Then, +with a motion so swift that the eyes of the onlookers +could scarcely register it, his arm darted out and +gripped the other’s wrist just as the revolver was +about to crash down on the Phantom’s head. +</p> +<p> +Once more his arm shot out and with a quick and +powerful wrench he swung Wilkes directly in front +of him, coiling the fingers of one hand around the +man’s neck and windpipe. In almost the same instant +he whipped out his pistol and, using the bulky figure +of Wilkes as a shield, took aim and fired. +</p> +<p> +Bimble uttered a sharp yell of pain. The pistol +dropped from his fingers, and he looked dazedly at +his blood-spattered hand. +</p> +<p> +“Fairly good shot!” ejaculated the Phantom with +a chuckle. At his back was Helen, trembling with +excitement, and in front of him stood Wilkes, spluttering +and gasping for breath as a result of the Phantom’s +clutch at his throat. +</p> +<p> +The whole episode had been enacted within the +space of a few seconds. The Phantom had acted so +swiftly and taken them all so completely by surprise +that on one had had time to interfere. Now, before +the men huddled against the wall and in front of the +stairs could gather their wits, a powerful shove sent +Wilkes sprawling headlong to the floor, and in another +moment the Phantom had seized Helen’s hand +and made a rush for Bimble. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_283'></a>283</span> +</p> +<p> +He snatched up the pistol the doctor had dropped +as the bullet struck his wrist, and handed it to Helen. +</p> +<p> +“Shoot the first man who makes a move,” he directed, +“and shoot to kill!” +</p> +<p> +Helen looked into his cool, determined eyes, flashing +with the ecstasy of combat. With a faint audacious +smile on her lips, she drew herself up and handling +the weapon with the sure touch of an expert, +faced the staring and muttering crowd. For a few +moments the men stood immobile, as if the swift succession +of events had cast a numbing spell over their +bodies and minds; then, with ominous grumblings and +curses, a few of the more daring ones started forward. +</p> +<p> +In the meantime the Phantom had jabbed his pistol +against Bimble’s body with a force that brought a +sickly groan from the doctor’s lips. He glanced aside +out of the corner of an eye as a crack and a gleam of +fire issued from Helen’s weapon. A bullet in the +fleshy part of the hip had checked a furtive movement +on the part of one of the gang, and instantly the +others, impressed by the girl’s exhibition of marksmanship, +fell back. +</p> +<p> +The Phantom nodded approvingly. His glittering +eyes and a smile on his lips gave no hint of what he +felt. +</p> +<p> +“Let me warn you that Miss Hardwick is an expert,” +he remarked coolly. “She once got a perfect +bull’s-eye at six hundred yards.” +</p> +<p> +The men looked at the girl, then at their ashen-faced +and quavering leader. The Phantom pushed +the pistol a little harder against the doctor’s body. +</p> +<p> +“If anyone raises a hand against Miss Hardwick, +you die instantly,” he declared sharply. “I could kill +you with no more compunction than if I were killing +a rat.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_284'></a>284</span> +</p> +<p> +The doctor gulped, and for the moment all his +cunning seemed to have deserted him. +</p> +<p> +“Anyone who cares to fire a bullet at me is welcome +to do so,” the Phantom went on, speaking in +quick accents that sounded like the clinking of metal. +“My index finger, you will notice, is on the trigger. +The slightest pressure will send a chunk of lead into +your vitals. If I die, the muscular contraction that +always accompanies sudden and violent death would +be very likely to snap the trigger. You get the idea, +I hope?” +</p> +<p> +It was evident that Bimble did. His absurdly thin +legs wabbled as if he were in the grip of a great terror +and the spasmodic twitching of his fingers indicated +that this was a situation against which his habitual +craftiness was helpless. +</p> +<p> +Helen stood at the Phantom’s side, sweeping the +crowd with cool, alert eyes, and holding the pistol in +readiness for instant action. Her slim figure was +erect, and there was a proud tilt to her head, as if +the contagion of the Phantom’s fighting spirit had +gripped her. Again there were surly mutterings +among the men, but with rare exceptions they were +of the type that is impotent without a leader to urge +them on. +</p> +<p> +Not a word came from Bimble’s lips, but there was +a look in his eye which told that the tentacles of his +mind were reaching for a solution of the difficulty. +The Phantom, keeping one eye on the doctor and the +other on the crowd, detected a stealthy movement in +the rear of the group. Someone had dropped to his +knees and was crawling toward a huge box. +</p> +<p> +Instantly the Phantom saw the meaning of the +stealthy movement. For a moment, as the crawling +figure appeared around the edge of the group, he +turned his pistol from the doctor, took a quick aim, +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_285'></a>285</span> +pressed the trigger, and again thrust the muzzle of +his weapon against Bimble’s diaphragm. +</p> +<p> +A cry told that the bullet had found its mark. As +the smoke drifted toward the ceiling, the man rose +to his feet with a look of distress in his face, caressing +a portion of his arm as he slunk away toward the +rear. A few of the others, who had sought to take +advantage of the Phantom’s temporary abstraction, +fell back to their places. +</p> +<p> +The Phantom drew a long breath as he realized +how narrowly Helen and himself had escaped disaster. +They had the advantage for the present, but the +slightest faltering might easily reverse the situation +and release the pent-up savagery of their foes. +</p> +<p> +“Bimble,” he remarked, “it would be extremely +unfortunate for you if any of your men should get +reckless. I see some of them are impatient. If anything +happens to Miss Hardwick or me, you will be +a dead man. Hadn’t you better tell your friends to +throw down their guns?” +</p> +<p> +The doctor glanced uneasily at his men. His looks +told plainly that the Phantom had read him accurately, +that there was nothing he valued quite so +highly as he did his life, and that his swagger and +bland assurance would wilt the moment he faced a +personal danger. There was venom in his eyes, and +his pale, distorted features bespoke impotent rage. +</p> +<p> +“Drop your guns,” he commanded after another +despairing look about the basement. +</p> +<p> +The men regarded him diffidently and did not +move. Their faces showed that they were torn +between the conflicting impulses of self-preservation +and an ingrained habit of obedience. +</p> +<p> +“You’re first.” The Phantom pointed a finger at +a tall, barrel-chested man at the end of the line. +“Step forward and empty your pockets.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_286'></a>286</span> +</p> +<p> +The Phantom was in a state of high tension. He +was exercising a mastery of mind over the situation, +but all might yet be lost if the man should refuse to +obey and set the others an example of resistance. +</p> +<p> +“Miss Hardwick,” he said quickly, realizing that +each moment of delay might cost them their lives, +“you will count five. If our friend at the end of the +line has not emptied his pockets when you are +through, shoot to kill.” +</p> +<p> +The girl signified with a slight nod that she understood. +As she began to count, her pistol was pointing +straight at the man the Phantom had indicated. The +fellow’s sullen obstinacy yielded gradually to an over-powering +respect for Helen’s marksmanship, of +which he had already witnessed an exhibition. Just +before she reached “five,” he lumbered forward and +turned the lining of his pockets inside out. A knife, +an automatic, and several other implements clattered +to the floor. +</p> +<p> +“Now get back in the corner,” commanded the +Phantom pointing. He thrilled at the thought that +the crisis was past and the victory almost won. +</p> +<p> +The second man hesitated only for an instant before +he followed the example of the first. After +that the process of disarming the gang went on swiftly +and without interruptions. Man after man stepped +out of the line, emptied his pockets, and joined the +others in the corner. When the last man had +divested himself of his belongings there was a small +pile of oddly assorted articles in the middle of the +floor. +</p> +<p> +The Phantom felt a little dazed, now that the +tremendous tension was over. At last he lowered the +pistol and turned to the girl. Her face was pale and +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_287'></a>287</span> +a little haggard but a smile of triumph hovered +about her lips. +</p> +<p> +“You’re the grandest little woman I ever knew,” +he declared feelingly. +</p> +<p> +“Oh, I don’t know,” she confessed a little wearily. +“I don’t think I could have stood it if you hadn’t been +so close to me. I felt as though you were holding me +under a spell all the time.” +</p> +<p> +The Phantom laughed. “Bimble, you have seen +how one man, with the assistance of a plucky little +woman, has vanquished a gang of twenty-five cutthroats +and ruffians. The yellow streak in you made +it fairly easy. I should like to see the Duke’s face +when he hears about this.” +</p> +<p> +The doctor swallowed hard. His putty-hued face +reflected the depths of mental agony. +</p> +<p> +“What—what are you going to do with us?” he +inquired weakly. +</p> +<p> +“Precisely what I said I would do—hand you over +to the police.” +</p> +<p> +“Not that!” The doctor looked as though he had +received a blow. “Listen! Down below, in the cellar, +are several million dollars’ worth of valuables. +You can have it all if you will let us go.” +</p> +<p> +“You’re a rather poor sort, Bimble,” said the +Phantom contemptuously. “There isn’t gold enough +in the world to buy your freedom. To see you get +your just deserts is worth more to me than all the +millions the Duke and his gang ever stole.” +</p> +<p> +The doctor staggered back against the wall, utterly +dejected. Of a sudden the Phantom’s expression +of elation faded out and a worried look took +its place. Where was Granger? The reporter had +not been among those who had answered the doctor’s +summons, and the Phantom had seen nothing of him +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_288'></a>288</span> +since he left him chained to the wall in one of the +upper rooms. Without doubt he had been released, +for Bimble had said that a member of the gang had +entered the room and found him shortly after the +Phantom had started for the basement. His absence +was somewhat disturbing, for the Phantom’s task +would not be finished until Granger had been caught. +</p> +<p> +Admonishing Miss Hardwick to keep an eye on +the gang, he walked toward the farther wall. In +the corner was a door which he had not seen before. +It was locked, but he guessed that it led to the cellar +in which the doctor kept the gang’s treasures, and he +noted that it was of hard and solid material and +would resist almost any amount of pressure. +</p> +<p> +“Doctor,” he said, walking back to where Bimble +stood, “I’ll trouble you for your bunch of keys.” +</p> +<p> +With an air of a broken and defeated man, Bimble +complied, and the Phantom made sure that one of +the keys fitted the lock on the door leading to the +cellar. Keeping one eye on the gang, he gathered +the weapons they had discarded and placed them on +the cellar stairs. Then he carefully locked the door +and put the keys in his pocket. Motioning Helen +to precede him, he backed up the stairs, covering the +huddled and dejected group with his pistol till he +reached the top. Here was another door, almost as +substantial as the one communicating with the cellar. +They stepped through, and the Phantom closed it +and turned a key in the lock. +</p> +<p> +“Our precious friends are trapped,” he remarked +with a chuckle. “I’ll wager they won’t get out of +that basement till the police drag them out. Now +we must find Granger.” +</p> +<p> +Passing swiftly down the hall, they opened one +door after another, glancing quickly into each room +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_289'></a>289</span> +before proceeding to the next. Finally, on the floor +above, they reached a door through which faint +sounds came. For an instant the Phantom listened, +then jerked the door open and entered. Taking in +the scene at a glance, he drew his pistol. +</p> +<p> +“Hands up, Granger!” he commanded. +</p> +<h2><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_290'></a>290</span>CHAPTER XXXII—THE OUTLAW</h2> +<p> +The reporter’s flushed face and the bottle at his +elbow showed that he had been drinking. As +the Phantom’s sharp command rang out, his +nervous fingers dropped the revolver which he had +been pointing at a lanky, dull-faced figure standing +against the wall. +</p> +<p> +“Culligore!” exclaimed the Phantom, “How did +you get here?” +</p> +<p> +The lieutenant smiled. “Oh, I’ve been in this +house for some little time—ever since that confounded +‘doc’ shot me in the leg. He put me to bed +and tied some ropes around me. How I got loose +is a long story. I guess the ‘doc’ would have taken a +little more pains with the ropes if he had known that +the wound in my leg wasn’t so bad as I let on it was. +I was strolling around a bit and finally I bumped into +our friend Granger here. He’s a real hospitable +guy. Handed me a drink with one hand and flashed +a gat on me with the other.” +</p> +<p> +Granger, blinking his heavy eyes and staring +blankly at the two intruders, leaned back against his +chair. Evidently the weapon in the Phantom’s hand +convinced him that the game was up, for he made +no move to recover the pistol he had dropped. +</p> +<p> +“He felt so sure I wouldn’t get away from him +alive that he told me the whole story,” Culligore +went on. “Of course, I had pieced together most +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_291'></a>291</span> +of it already from the scraps of fact I had. I’ve had +my suspicions about Granger ever since the department +turned him loose. I thought that was a big +mistake, but I didn’t have any evidence until just the +other day. Then I searched his room, and what do +you suppose I found?” +</p> +<p> +“What?” asked the Phantom and Helen in unison. +</p> +<p> +Culligore laughed softly. “It’s queer how clever +rascals like Granger always make some childish +blunder. He didn’t have sense enough to throw +away the Maltese cross—that bit of phony jade that +the murderer took from Gage’s desk—but hid it in +the false bottom of his trunk. Well, I guess that +alone will give him a start toward the electric chair, +though it isn’t the only piece of evidence I have +against him.” +</p> +<p> +“Then, Culligore,” asked the Phantom, “I suppose +you’re convinced I had nothing to do with the +murders?” +</p> +<p> +The lieutenant grinned. “Well, you sized me up +about right while we were stalling each other in the +basement. From the first I didn’t want to believe +you were mixed up in the dirty deal. I had a sort +of bet with myself that the Gray Phantom would +always play the game according to the code. Anyhow, +it wasn’t long before I began to suspect that +the whole thing was a frame-up. Granger has just +told me all about it. Seemed proud of his achievement. +The Duke had mapped out a nifty plan for +Bimble to work on. None of the flossy details were +omitted. Gage was to be murdered and you were +to be the goat. If possible, the man put on the job +was to be someone resembling you, so that if he +were seen on or near the scene of the crime the evidence +against the Gray Phantom would be strengthened. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_292'></a>292</span> +</p> +<p> +“I guess you know what a thoroughgoing bunch +the Duke’s men are. They combed the country till +they found a man looking like you. Granger seemed +to fit the specifications, and they offered him a big +bunch of money if he would do their dirty work. +Granger tells me he has always had his eye on the +main chance, that he was sick and tired of the newspaper +grind, and was ready to do almost anything to +get out of it. I suppose his conscience troubled him +a bit, but the Duke’s gang gave him all the whisky +he wanted, for they knew he had the knack of keeping +his mouth shut even when he was drunk, and +liquor is a pretty good antidote for a troublesome +conscience. +</p> +<p> +“The threatening letter was forged, of course. +The job was done by one of the cleverest forgers in +the world, a member of the Duke’s organization. +After the murder——” +</p> +<p> +“Not quite so fast,” interrupted the Phantom. +“How did Granger get into Gage’s bedroom?” +</p> +<p> +“Through the tunnel connecting with Bimble’s residence.” +</p> +<p> +The Phantom looked puzzled. “But I satisfied +myself that the revolving frame could not be manipulated +from the outside.” +</p> +<p> +“It wasn’t,” said Culligore. “Gage himself admitted +his murderer. It wasn’t the first time that he +had received a visit from one of the gang that way, +and he did not know that the organization had condemned +him to death. So when Granger gave the +customary signal, Gage thought somebody who didn’t +care to be seen was bringing him an important message.” +</p> +<p> +“I might have guessed it,” murmured the Phantom. +“Evidently I was not cut out for a detective. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_293'></a>293</span> +Granger, of course, made his escape through the +tunnel after committing the murder?” +</p> +<p> +“He did, and that’s what made the crime look so +mysterious. It was part of the plan, for it convinced +everybody that no one but the Phantom could have +committed it. But Granger had no sooner committed +the murder than he began to be nervous. +Somehow he got it into his head that the housekeeper +was wise to him. Maybe she was; we will never +know that for sure, though I have a private hunch +that Mrs. Trippe had guessed the truth. Anyhow, +Granger decided that he wouldn’t be safe unless the +housekeeper was put out of the way. He locked +her up in the bedroom; then went out for a drink. +He was bent on murder, and he needed a bracer for +his nerves. When he came back——” +</p> +<p> +“In the meantime,” interrupted the Phantom, +“Mrs. Trippe tried to escape by way of the revolving +window frame. Probably she knew there was a hidden +exit somewhere in the room. At any rate, she +had discovered how to open it just before Granger +returned. I was in the aperture in the wall and saw +the murderer’s hand as he drove the knife into her +body. Granger either knew or guessed that I was +there. He did not see me, but he heard the housekeeper +addressing someone just before the blow was +struck, and he probably surmised who it was. To +make sure I wouldn’t get him into trouble, he ran +around to the Bimble residence and blocked the other +end of the tunnel. But there is one thing I don’t +understand. How did it come about that Granger +was suspected of treachery?” +</p> +<p> +“You have just told us that he tried to kill you,” +said Culligore. “Well, that was the reason. The +doc had given strict orders that you were to be taken +alive and were not to be killed under any circumstances. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_294'></a>294</span> +Granger violated those orders when he +tried to smother you to death in the tunnel. Shortly +after that he disappeared, and that made it look all +the worse for him. The ‘doc’ didn’t know that you +had kidnaped him. All he knew was that Granger +had vamoosed, and he thought he was doing the +gang dirt and pulling some kind of treacherous stuff.” +</p> +<p> +“That explains the note Dan the Dope handed +me,” observed the Phantom. “Everything is clear +except Pinto’s part in the affair. His statement +cleared up a good many things, but not all. For +instance, he was startled when I showed him the +ducal coronet. Tell me,” and the Phantom lowered +his voice as a new thought occurred to him, “is, or +was, Pinto a member of the Duke’s crowd?” +</p> +<p> +“Not exactly.” Culligore spoke with a hesitant +drawl. “I’ll tell you something if you promise to let +it go in one ear and out the other. For some time +I’ve had a private tip to the effect that the Duke’s +outfit wanted someone on the inside of the police department. +They made Pinto a pretty attractive +offer, and Pinto nibbled at the bait. He might have +swallowed it if the Gage murder hadn’t happened +along.” +</p> +<p> +“No wonder he acted so shaky,” murmured the +Phantom. “Well, I am glad the ugly mess has been +disposed of. The wily old Peng Yuen must have +had an inkling of the truth when he quoted something +to me from one of the Chinese philosophers. I +didn’t get his meaning then, but I do now. Anyway,” +with a soft laugh, “the bloodstain has been +washed from the Gray Phantom’s name. There will +never——” +</p> +<p> +Granger, who had been leaning back against his +chair as if in a drunken stupor, made a sudden movement. +The Phantom was about to interfere, but the +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_295'></a>295</span> +reporter was only pouring himself a drink from the +bottle. He rose unsteadily and held the glass aloft. +</p> +<p> +“It was fun while it lasted,” he declared thickly. +“I’m going to have one more drink—just one. Here +goes!” +</p> +<p> +He gulped down the contents of the glass, swayed +for an instant and regarded the others with an odd +expression. Then, before either of them could interfere, +he picked up the pistol he had dropped upon +the Phantom’s entrance. +</p> +<p> +A crack sounded. Helen uttered a sharp cry, and +Culligore limped toward the reporter’s chair just as +Granger went staggering to the floor. +</p> +<p> +“Killed himself!” muttered the lieutenant. “Shot +himself through the heart. Well, that’s one way of +dodging the electric chair.” +</p> +<p> +Helen shuddered convulsively and the Phantom +led her gently toward the door. He drew the doctor’s +keys from his pockets and tossed them to Culligore. +</p> +<p> +“I forgot to tell you,” he remarked in casual tones, +“that Bimble and his gang are locked up in the basement. +Miss Hardwick and I rounded them up and +took their guns away from them while you and Granger +were discussing the crime. I understand, too, +that there’s a large amount of swag salted in the +cellar. It will be quite an important catch for you, +Culligore, and ought to help toward promotion for +you.” +</p> +<p> +The lieutenant stared. +</p> +<p> +“Well, I’ll be hanged!” he muttered at last. +</p> +<p> +The Phantom smiled. “I believe there are several +outstanding charges against myself,” he observed. +“To arrest the Gray Phantom would be almost as +big an achievement as the rounding up of the Duke’s +gang.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_296'></a>296</span> +</p> +<p> +Culligore seemed to hesitate. “Well,” with a +broad grin, “I suppose I ought to pinch you, but my +leg still hurts a bit and you can run a lot faster than +I can. Anyhow, I’ll get plenty of credit as it is. +You two might as well go away. I’ll wait ten +minutes before I telephone headquarters.” +</p> +<p> +“Thanks, Culligore.” +</p> +<p> +He gripped the lieutenant’s hand and held it while +each man looked the other in the eye. Then he +turned and led Helen from the room. In a little +while they were out on the street, and her face brightened +as the morning breeze fanned it. The Phantom +hailed a passing taxicab. +</p> +<p> +For a time they sat silent, and there was a touch +of reverence in the Phantom’s attitude as he gazed +at the girl. +</p> +<p> +“Helen!” he whispered. +</p> +<p> +The soft brown eyes looked into his own. +</p> +<p> +“Gray Phantom!” she murmured. +</p> +<p> +He found her hand and held it. “It was a great +adventure—the greatest of my life. Who would +ever have dreamed that the Gray Phantom would +go to such extremes to clear himself in the eyes of +a girl?” +</p> +<p> +She looked up again, and there was a warm, misty +radiance in her eyes. +</p> +<p> +“Did my opinion of you really matter as much as +that?” +</p> +<p> +“Why, of course; it meant everything to me. And +Helen——” +</p> +<p> +There was a choking sensation in his throat. He +turned his head and looked out through the window +at a quiet street lined with brownstone fronts. He +laughed sadly. +</p> +<p> +“I forgot for a moment that I am still a hunted +man. I am still an outlaw, and all officers are not +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_297'></a>297</span> +as generous as Culligore. My past is hanging over +me like a great black cloud. But perhaps some +day——” +</p> +<p> +She smiled as he broke off. “Perhaps some day,” +she murmured, “the cloud will roll away.” +</p> +<p> +His fingers tightened convulsively about her hand; +then he opened the door and called to the chauffeur. +The cab swerved up to the curb and stopped. +</p> +<p> +“Good-by, Helen.” +</p> +<p> +Her lips trembled and for a moment she could not +speak. +</p> +<p> +“Au revoir—Gray Phantom!” +</p> +<p> +He drew a long, deep breath as the cab glided +away. He watched it till it was out of sight. There +was a smile on his lips and his eyes held a tender +light. +</p> +<p> +“Farewell, Brown Eyes,” he said, half aloud. +“Wonder if we shall meet again, and if—” He did +not finish the thought, but smiled whimsically. “I +must hurry back and see what I can do with my gray +orchid.” +</p> +<p> +Then he swung down a side street and walked +briskly away, looking furtively to right and left with +the habitual caution of hunted men. +</p> +<div class='center'> +<p> </p> + +<p> </p> +<hr class="full" /> +</div> +<p>***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE GRAY PHANTOM'S RETURN***</p> +<p>******* This file should be named 37490-h.txt or 37490-h.zip *******</p> +<p>This and all associated files of various formats will be found in:<br /> +<a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/3/7/4/9/37490">http://www.gutenberg.org/3/7/4/9/37490</a></p> +<p>Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed.</p> + +<p>Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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