THE GREY PHANTOM’S ROMANCE

Sun (Auckland), Volume III, Issue 815, 8 November 1929, Page 5

THE GREY PHANTOM’S ROMANCE

The Astonishing Adventures WnAv Sr^^v« of a Lovable Outlaw. I fit«/ | F 's§ Wm 3EBhBp9 1 Copyright by Street and Smith JbZwKgfffl 4 ~&£'*■ cow. teffßßm SeriaHsect 6?/ Ledger Syndicate rifam*

CHAPTER XXIV (Continued)

VHE ROOM IN THE BASEMENT '■When did you guess it?" he muttered, forcing a sneering grin to his face. •Just a little while ago. I’ve acted tiie simpleton throughout the whole afair. I was so sure of Pinto’s guilt rhat it never occurred to me to suspect any one else. The moment Pinto was eliminated, I knew you were the murderer, I saw then what I should hare seen at once —that Gage was murdered by a man who looked so much like me that, when Gage saw the 'ace of the scoundrel, he was sure it was the Grey Phantom. That’s why he old Pinto that I was the murderer.” 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. "It was all very cleverly arranged.” rhe Phantom went on, “I suppose you were selected for the job because yon happen to resemble me. How you happened to join the Duke s rang 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 murdel's.” The reporter, gathering his wits, rate a contemptuous laugh. “The hair, eh? Not just yet, I guess. Several things are likely to happen to you first.” That remains to be seen. You are fairly clever. Granger, but your leterness won’t help you now. You hoodwinked the police very neatly. They had the murderer once, but they ieltaosure I was the man they wanted hat they let you go as soon as you had satisfied them you were not tlic key Phantom. It was a fairly good ’he. I perpetrated another good joke tyieif when I went to you and borrved your identity, never guessing hat you were the murderer. You took t all in good part because you couldn't m anything else, but all the while you

were scheming to hand me over to the Duke's crowd.” “It was rich! You were so easily taken in that I had to laugh whenever you turned your back.”

“I admit it. The reason you took me in so easily was partly because you were a member of an honourable 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 organisation 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 II relieve you of this handy little implement.” . With a deft motion he reached into Granger’s pocket and extracted the reporter’s automatic. Then he removed the knee from the mans chest and covered him with the weapon.

“The cutest trick of them all,” he continued with a grim chuckle, “was vour crawling in here tonight 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 or 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. 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 11 ever see daylight again. As for the dear girl "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 ali at once an inspiration camerfo turn “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 s had already found a way out of th amiable doctor's clutches.

“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 enough to turn around in, with a stout door and no window.”

“The basement,■ eh?” The Phantom seemed not at all intersted. “This room we are In is on the second floor, isn’t it?”

“Third,” said Granger, after puzzling for a moment over the question.

“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.”

A thrust with the pistol emphasised the command, and Granger sullenly obeyed. With his free hand the Phantom explored the reporter’s pockets until he found a small silverhandled knife.

“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.” 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 loqk 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 realised what he was doing. A shout rose in the reporter’s throat, but in an instant the Phantom’s fingers were at his windpipe.

“Quiet!” he warned. “I don’t care to be interrupted just yet. Granger, I don’t like the togs I’ve been wearing the last few days, and you have worn mine just about long enough. We are going to make a quick change. Strip!” The reporter glared, but his lips trembled and the shaking of his limbs indicated that he was in need of his favourite stimulant. “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 ydu so long. Will you strip voluntarily, or must I tap you on the head and undress you? I don’t like to be rough.” 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 grey which was his favourite colour.

"This is better,” he commented. With an absent-minded 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. “Put your hands behind you!” commanded the Phantom, again making a menacing gesture with the pistol. The reporter, his ashen face twitching, glowered sava.gely 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 tablecloth, fashioned it into a gag and thrust it between the reporter’s teeth.

“I’m really very much obliged to you. Granger,” he murmured drily as he put the revolver and the 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.”

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 further end, and hastened in that direction. At the head of the stairs he all but collided with Dr. Bimble. “Well, Granger?”

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. “No luck.” 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.” Even in the dusk the Phantom saw a spiteful look creep into the doctor’s face.

“Doesn’t he still think you are on his side?”

“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 flim-flam the information out of him, but it was no use. He’s about the smoothest article I ever came across.”

The doctor nodded curtly as he swung around and started to descend the stairs, the Phantom following. “I’ll break him yet,” muttered Bimble vindictively. "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.”

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.

“Jepson!” called the doctor, taking a bunch of keys from his pocket. A tall, raw-boned individual with features suggestive of a gorilla’s rose from the table and approached them with dragging gait. “I want you and Granger to bring Miss Hardwick here immediately,” directed Bimble, handing Jepson one of the keys. The tall man nodded and slunk away. The Phantom, keeping in the' shadows as much as possible, followed him down two fights 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. "The whole crowd seems to be about tonight,” observed the Phantom.

“Sure,” said Jepson. “The big chief don’t like to take chances. 1-Ie 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.” “Quite likely.” The Phantom repressed a smile. There was a fever in his veins, and he wished JepsoD 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.

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. 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. 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