THE GREY PHANTOM’S ROMANCE

Sun (Auckland), Volume III, Issue 811, 4 November 1929, Page 5

THE GREY PHANTOM’S ROMANCE

The Astonishing Adventures i of a Lovable Outlaw.

Copyright by Street and Smith Corp. Serialised by Ledger Syndicate

CHAPTER XXll.—Continued. "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 ' ertain items of information from him. •lust bow 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.” At last the reporter was ready. Pong Yuen was stolidly smoking his Pipe as they passed out. The almondshaped eyes narrowed a trifle as the Phantom shook his hand, and for an ■nstant he seemed about to say something. In another moment he had hanged his mind, however, and with a Queer little grunt in his throat he "ent back to his green-tasseled pipe. a final admonition to exercise r ;‘ re and discretion, the Phantom left outside the shop, and walked rapidly toward Catharine Street. He ‘‘ad no reason for doubting the reporter’s sincerity. Granger’s moral •'•lamina might not be all that could desired, but on the whole the Phantom was well pleased with the arrangement. It had already relieved aim of much worry, and enabled him r o centre his thoughts and efforts on [ he task before him. He had no difficulty in finding the ooffee house, a crumbling and evilooking hovel squeezed between a sooty factory building and a squalid /Uement. 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 "ho passed him on the sidewalk. The ''Qdow and glass door of the coffee J! use were covered with green paper . unds, but there was a narrow openly through which the Fhantom could a glimpse of the interior. Some 12 or 15 men were seated at °ug tables, drinking coffee and smokn S pipes or cigarettes. The air was so heavy with tobacco fumes that the .hantom could not distinguish their le *tures clearly, but he got the impression that they were a disreputable ° l, He looked in vain for anyone nswering the description Granger had * lv en of Matt Lunn. He walked away window and stood at the frb. scanning the street in either Section. At a corner a block away ‘ e saw a shadowy figure leaning “*ainst a stack of boxes outside a grocery. Granger is on the job,” he mumbled. l rilei i he turned quickly just as a raw-boned man appeared from ■ e opposite direction and walked into _ Qe coffee house. The Phantom caught Slimpse of his face as he opened

the door and passed through, and .that glimpse revealed- a great livid "scar over the left eye. 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 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 I door open. 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. CHAPTER XXIII. THE FACE IN THE LIMOUSINE. 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 real-, then looked down again into coffee cups and pipe bowls, as it the new arrival had been completely forgotten. 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 hut incomplete. He was a wicked-looking creature, with coffee-brown complexion, eyes that were as hard and emotionless as bits of coloured 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. 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. 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. -Hello, Lunn,” he said easily, imitating Granger’s maimer of speech. It was a convenient opening, even it he should not be able to deceive the man in regard to his identity. Slowly the other lifted his flmt} eyes, filing a vacuous stare on the Phantom's face, and pulled hard at. his pipe. "Hullo yourself, was his gruff response. . T *?•» Bon “A bit grouchy tonight. 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 cow aid s heart. A craning of necks and lowei ing glances signified that the rest o the men in the room were following the conversation. _ o _- "You called me a different name

last time you saw me,” grumbled Lunn suspiciously.

The Phantom masked his momentary confusion 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. “You’ve got so many monickers, Lunn, that I can’t remember them all. Which particular one would you like to have me use tonight?’ ’ “The same one you always used before, if you know which one that is.” 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. “Tell me where I can connect with a drink,” was his jocular evasion, “or I’ll call you a name you never heard before.” The other sneered. “There are some things that hurt a lot worse than names do. One of them is ajkqife 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.” The Phantom's face sobered. “I’m ready to explain. That’s why I looked you up tonight. But we can’t talk in here. Suppose we take a walk around the block?” 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 round the block with the Grey Phantom as with anj’body else.” 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 organisation among them, the Phantom saw no reason why they should side against him. He paid the hunchback and walked behind Lunn toward the door. Sullen and covert glances followed him, but none of tlie men rose, and lie 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. The man with the scar took a few steps down the street, then stopped and whirled round. “What's the idea?” he demanded brusquely. “Why did you walk in there and try to pass yourself off as Tommie Granger?” “Not so loud, Lunn.” The Phantom glanced about him quickly. For the moment the block appeared 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 the face and his right hand was hovering over one of his pockets. 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. “I'm listening,” said Lunn. “What’s the answer?” “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 manoeuvre, gave a throaty squeal. “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?” He jabbed the pistol harder against the other’s 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. “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?” “The name sounds kind of familiar.” “Don’t stall! Miss Hardwick was kidnapped by members of the Duke’s gang.” “Yes-es.” Lunn gulped. “I—l think she was.” “You know she was. Don’t you?” The question was emphasised with a little extra pressure on the pistol. ‘‘l’ve been told the lady was kidnapped, but that’s all I know. I didn’t have anything to do with that job.” The Phantom regarded him sharply, but his face was indistinct in the gloom. “Who did?” “I don’t know; 1 never heard.” “Where was she taken?” “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.” Tlie Phantom was inclined to oelieve him. Evidently Granger had over-estimated Lunn's store of inside information regarding the gang’s activities. “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?” Lunn did not answer. He • was breathing stertorously, and he uttered a # groan or grunt whenever the pressure on the pistol was increased. “Out with it!” The Phantom cast an uneasy glance behind him as he spoke, but no one was in sight. “You’ll never get out of here alive unless you tell.” The big fellow trembled. ' I’ve sworn to keep my mouth shut.” “Well, I guess it wouldn’t be the first time you have violated an oath. Where is the place?” “Will you let me go if I tell you?” 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, ancf I sha’n’t let you go until I have satisfied myself that it is the right place.” 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. 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 neighbourhood. Now it was crawling along very slowlj% swerving close to the curb as it came within a few feet of the entrance to the coffee house, the driver was leaning from iiis seat, as if looking for someone. Of a sudden a hoarse cry arose in the Phantom’s 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. The face was Helen Hardwick’s. 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. “Helen!” he cried, throwing himself into the seat beside her. “What’s the matter? What has happened? Can’t you speak?” 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, ft was cold, clammy, and limp. A groan broke from his lips. 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. “Is she—dead?” he asked. 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.” He braced bis muscles as a vivid realisation 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 tor once did not 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 windows, noticing that the car was gliding swiftly through dark and deserted streets. 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.

“Another of the Duke’s tricks, I suppose?” he remarked. “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.” The Phantom was silent for a time, realising that his captors had turned the trick neatly and with dispatch. Evidently they were men of much finer mental calibre than Matt Lunn and Dan the Dope. It had been a clever ruse, and they had set the trap very deftly. “What’s the programme?” he inquired. “You will see soon enough.” 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 lind a taxicab in a hurry. Yet the fellow' was resourceful and keen-witted and it was possible— 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 odour. 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. 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. 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. Tho two men advanced until they stood in front of him. The Phantom felt their eyes on his face. “Capital!” exclaimed one of them, ahd 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 Grey Phantom.” The words stung the listener’s senses like a whiplash. Hje tried to identify the voice, but he was unable to recall where he had heard it before. “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.” “Not even a miracle can save him.

The Phantom is done for. You did a good job, Somers.” “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, ft worked like greased lightning. Looks as though he’d be dead to the wjorld for quite a while yet.” The Phantom repressed a smile. His superb constitution was already shaking off the effects of the chloroform. “How is the little doll?” inquired the first speaker, who seemed to be a man of authority in the Duke’s organisation. “Chipper as a wildcat. She came to shortly after we got here. That kid has spunk, and she’s all there on looks. I don’t blame the Grey Phantom for falling for her. I would myself.” “Sentiment and business make a bad mixture,” was the other's dry coinmfent. (To be continued tomorrow)