THE GREY PHANTOM’S ROMANCE

Sun (Auckland), Volume III, Issue 796, 17 October 1929, Page 5

THE GREY PHANTOM’S ROMANCE

The Astonishing Adventures of a Lovable Outlaw.

Street and Smith Corp.

Copyright

Serialised

SYNOPSIS OF PRECEDING INSTALMENTS Late one night Patrolman Pinto is called into the shop of Sylvanus Gage, recluse tobacco dealer just off the Bowery, New York. The old house-keeper, who had summoned him, fears foul play to her master, who had recently received a threatening letter signed "Grey PhanBreaking in tho door officer Pinto finds Gage dying from a knife thrust and is just in time to catch tho words “Grey Phantom” from the murdered man’s lips. A motive for the crime, so foreign to the Grey Phantom’s code, lies in the disappearance of a small cross, once the property of the Phantom and recently come into Gage’s possession. This V*auble is missing from the dead man's effects, although 50,000 dollars worth of diamonds remains intact. Down on Long Island, at Sea-Glimpse, the Grey Phantom’s retreat, the supposed murderer is astonished to read a lurid account of the crime. Realising that he Inis been framed and that the police will s pend all their energies looking for lnm, the Grey Phantom determines to go to New York himself and seek out the real culprit, whom he believes to be in the gang of his old enemy, the Puke. But the strongest motive behind the Grey I'hantom’s bold stroke is to clear his name in the eyes of Helen Hardwick. Posing as ‘‘Roland Adair, of Boston,’ and disguised with a newly grown beard, he visits the scene of the crime. CHAPTER V. DANGER Coolly, though every nerve and nuscle in his body was on the alert, he 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 niade him habitually suspicious of appearances and who had been drilled in the art of seeing through disguises. Voices came from the 'outer room. Mrs. Trippe’s surly tones clashing the gruff accents of Officer Pinto. The Phantom felt a tingle of suspense, h was the kind of situation he would 1 ave thoroughly enjoyed but for the tact that in this instance he could not jeopardise his liberty without also endangering his purpose. Footsteps approached, and presently ;i stocky figure, with the housekeeper liovering behind, stood framed in the c’oorway. 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 f Yes. Pinto might be a faithful plodder and a dangerous adversary in a

physical encounter, but it was plain that he possessed only ordinary intelligence. “Well, who’re you?” bluntly demanded the officer. It was the housekeeper who answered. “He says ho is Mr. What , did you say your name was?” “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. Pinto stepped inside, his eyes fixed on tho 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. “You’re welcome.” he declared. “Go as far as j’ou 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.” 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. “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.” “Well, I’ve been kidding myself ' along, thinking may be I would find the solution.” Pinto’s face bore a | sheepish look. “There’s got to be a ’ solution somewhere, you know, and ” “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 accom- ; plished a miracle getting in.” “The Phantom’s strong for the ' miracle stuff, all 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.” The Phantom’s eyes had been on ; the floor, near the point where, ae- ' | cording 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 \ j peering eyes sent a tingle of apprej hension through his body. He wonj dered whether the patrolman was as j obtuse as he seemed. : “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?” I “Huh!” The contemptuous snort

came from Mrs. Trippe, who, with arms crossed over lier 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?” 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.

“I’d swear the rascal wasn’t in the room when I broke in,” declared the patrolman with emphasis. “And he couldn’t have got out before,” remarked the Phantom, with a grin. At the same time 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 she had not yet told. “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 lie’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.”

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. “I think the Phantom’s talents have been grossly overestimated. When he is caught we shall probably find lhat he is quite an ordinary mortal. Don’t you think so, Mrs. Trippe?” i The woman started, then mumbled | something unintelligible under her j breath. “Well, maybe,” said Pinto. “I’ve : got a feeling in my elbow that says i 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?” 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.” Mrs. Trippe stared at the Phantom as if expecting an astounding revelation to fall from his litfs. Patrolman Pinto, too, seemed taken aback. A little of the colour 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 chuckle voiced his opinion of the Phantom’s statement. “Say, you amateur dicks make me laugh. The Phantom had nothing to do with it, eh? Well, if he didn’t Walk Easy Ointment for tired, tender feet. Removes hard skin, callouses, etc. Works while you sleep. No excuse for limping. Tin posted for Is 6d —E. W. Hall. 117 Armagh Street. 1 Christchurch. 2

commit this murder, maybe you’ll tell us who did.” 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 1 eyes concealed the tension under which his mind was labouring. '• “That’s asking a lot o£ an amateur detective, isn’t it?” he suavely in- : quired. “Maybe it will help you, however, to know how the situation looks ■ to a layman. You say you are willing : to swear that the murderer was not , in the room when you broke in. It is almost equally cei’tain, viewing the i matter in the natural order of tilings, that he could not have left the room between the commission of the crime and your forcible, entrance. There- : fore ” He broke off, feeling a violent rush | of blood to the head. He had been 1 talking against time, hoping to find a I 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. "Well?” prompted Pinto. His voice was a trifle shaky. The Phantom was himself again, i “Well, as I was about to say, if the j murderer was not in the room when j yon broke in. then the circumstances j point straight to you, Mr. Pinto, as i the murderer of Sylvanus Gage.”

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. “I knew it!” she cried. “I knew it all the time!” “You must bo crazy,” muttered Pinto, at last finding his voice. “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?” The housekeeper seemed to search her memory. “It took him several moments to find the electric 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.” “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. Y'ou probably ! grappled in the dark. Then ” Pinto interrupted with a harsh strid- | ent 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 l*rce the door.” The Phantom wave* his hand airily.

[ “Because she had heard a mysterious ! ] I noise. That noise may have been pre- j ( | arranged to give you a chance to knife j , i Gage. I don’t pretend to understand j ' j all the minor details yet. but the es- j | sentials are clear as day. You j | must have committed the murder, for j ! the simple reason that nobody else : | could have done it.” ! “Yeh?” There was a vicious sneer j i in Pinto’s face. “Maybe you’ll tell me, ! then, why Gage thought the Phantom ! | was the one who knifed him.” | “Because of the forged letter he had | [received the day before. Besides, jl | Pinto, we don’t know that Gage i I thought anything of the kind. We have I nothing but your word for it. You j . [ were the only witness to the declara- j l tion you say Gage made. A man who | will commit a cowardly' murder is also ! capable of telling a lie.” Great bluish veins stod out on Pin- j to’s forehead. “You’re doing fine for: , | an amateur dick,” he jeered. "All : ; you’ve got to do now is to figger out ! • I a motive, and the case will be com- ! plete.” “Motive? Ah, yes’ The Duke has a ' ! habit of recruiting his men in queer ’ j places. Once he bad an assistant dis- j | ! trict attorney on his staff; at another ; I time an associate professor of phil- j [ | osophy with a penchant for forbidden j | : things. Why shouldn’t he have a hard- . : working patrolman” | Pinto’s figure squirmed beneath his j . j gaze. r | "Such a man would prove useful to j , the Duke, especially if he wanted to ’ i frame an enemy,” pursued the Phan- [ 1 tom. “Nobody suspects a policeman. ! A man in uniform is beyond reproach. . Even if the circumstances of a crime ,

point straight to him as the perpetra- , tor, it is always easier to suspect some- ! body else, particularly some one who | has a criminal record. I guess you ' banked on that, Pinto.” His tones bespoke a free and easy j ; confidence, but he felt none of it. He \ j believed that the murderer of Sylvanus ; | Gage stood before him, but liis only : ] reason for thinking so was that, so far i as appearances went, no one else could I have committed the crime. He was : poignantly aware that his theory- would I be laughed at and derided, and that he [ himself would be subjected to the hoi- | i low farce of a trial which must inevit- | | ably result in his conviction. Once in ; ' the clutches of the police, his chances j ■ of clearing himself would be extremely . i slender. “Well, Pinto, what about it?” j His tones were clear and faintly taunt- | ing, giving no hint of the swift play of j his wits. “Did you take the precaution | of arranging an alibi?” “No, I didn’t.” The policeman j 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 —” He paused for a moment and came a step closer to the Phantom. 1 “Say,” he went on, “while you’re j telling us so much, maybe you'll tell | us how long the Grey Phanom has I been wearing a beard.” Momentarily startled by the verbal l thrust, the Grey Phantom was unprepared for the physical attack that I instantly followed. He felt the sudden : impact of the policeman's ponderous

body precipitating him against tho 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. Then a door slammed and a key turned gratingly in the lock. Tho Grey Phantom was alone, a prisoner. 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 realised the full serious- > ness of his dilemma. The door hail j no sooner slammed than he was on his i feet, regaining his breath and flexing ! his muscles for action. 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 re- | sistance. After thrice hurling himself against the obstruction, he saw that he was only wasting time and strength. (To be continued tomorrow.)