HANDS UNSEEN

Sun (Auckland), Volume III, Issue 878, 23 January 1930, Page 5

HANDS UNSEEN

A New Grey Phantom Detective Story

By

HERMAN LANDON

Copyright by Street and Smith Corp . Serialized by Ledger Syndicate

I. ; CHAPTER Xl.—Continued I She gaiued the sidewalk just in time to see him step into the driver’s seat of a long, yellow touring car drawn up a little farther down the block, and in a few moments her spirited little roadster had started in pursuit of him. There was a brisk traffic in the streets, and she had little difficulty keeping the yellow car car in sight without attracting the attention of its owner. For a while the course was due north, skirting Central Park, then it veered at an easterly angle and traversed the farflung purlieus of the Bronx. Now and then Whipple glanced back over his shoulder, but Helen following a block behind him, had no reason to suspect that he was aware of pursuit. There were many other cars travelling fa the same direction, and her little roadster was inconspicuous. A niisSiving began to take shape in her mind as th>*y left the thickly settled portion of the city behind them. The Pursuit had been easy so far, but what would happen it. as now seemed probable, it should be extended beyond the city limits, where her roadster would have slight chance of keeping up with a high-powered touring car, and where also it would be more difficult to keep the yellow car in sight without being noticed by its occupant? She hoped Whipple’s destination was not far distant. The mist and sleet had vanished, and a half-grown moon emerged from behind a bank of clouds. Helen, a vivacious breeze singing in her ears, urged her roadster to greater speed. Par ahead of the yellow car stretched a long, dark ribbon of country road, its macadamised surface smooth as a hardwood floor, lined on either side hy clumps of woods and here and there an isolated dwelling. The car ahead was travelling at only a moderate Tate of speed, and the pursuit had so far imposed no serious strain on the roadster, but a sense of caution prompted Helen to fall back about 50 yards. On that lonely country road, silvered by the slanting moonlight, she could cot risk detection. She wondered anxiously how much father it was to Whipple’s destination. Then, just as she was hoping that the end of the pursuit was near, the yellow car described a sharp turn and disappeared from sight. She reduced her speed and proceeded cautiously co the point where she had last seen it. A cross-road narrower and more rugged than the main thoroughfare. stretched up a gently sloping and thickly wooded hill, and at its apex she raught a glimpse of a tail-light rapidly disappearing from view. For a moment she glanced a trifle dubiously at the black jungle on the top the hill, and then she started her ( ar in pursuit, again, certain now that Whipple had taken this course. Probably, she reflected, his destination was *ome distance back of the main road.

I She scanned the darkness ahead of her while the roadster pluckily climbed the incline. She reached the top and strained her eyes against the gloom for a sign of a yellow car. Then, out of the tangled shrubbery along the roadside, a shadow leaped swiftly to the running board of the roadster, and a thin, harsh voice ordered her to stop. Instantly she realised she had been tricked in some way, but in the next moment a metallic object pressing firmly against her shoulder scattered all her thoughts. Instinctively, her mind momentarily dazed by the sudden interruption, she stopped the roadster. A short distance ahead she could distinguish the dim outlines of the yellow car. Its occupant had evidently stopped just below the top of the hill and crawled back along the shrubbery to intercept her. He must have suspected, then, that she was following him, and he had turned off the main road for the sole purpose of verifying his suspicions. CAPTURE A snicker sounder in her ear, and Whipple sat down beside her. She was gazing straight ahead, trying to gather her wits, but out of the corner of her right eye she caught a glimpse of his unpleasantly leering face. He lowered the weapon he had been pressing against her shoulder, and studied her face in the moonlight. “Quite, cosy place for a chat,” he remarked, speaking in a thin, diy voice that strikingly corresponded with Wade's description. “I suppose you're Miss Hardwick,” he added shrewdly. Helen said nothing. His deduction concerning her identity seemed unnatural under the circumstances, and, besides her picture had frequently appeared in the newspapers in connection with accounts of the Grey Phantom’s exploits. . , . „ , “You’ve got nerve, all right, he told her in a tone of sneering admiration. “Lots of nerve, but not much brains. You wouldn’t have tried a fool stunt like this If you'd been wise.” Helen remained silent. It was not the first time her impulsiveness had led her into perilous situations. The lonely roadside. with creeping shadows on all sides, was depressing, but her face showed no fear. She

bent her wits to the problem of outmanoeuvring the man at her side. ‘‘Thought you’d get a line on your old man, didn’t you?” he went on with a derisive chuckle. “It looked easy, I suppose. You thought all you had to do was to get on my tracks and trail me for a while. He! Guess you thought I was easy. Let me tell you something. I spotted you the moment you walked into the restaurant, though I didn’t let on. Wanted to see what kind of game you were up to. Didn't that bunch across the street tip you off to what would happen if you tried any tricks with me?” “Oh, yes.” said Helen in a tone of studied indifference, “I was warned, but I didn’t pay very close attention. I was given to understand that something dreadful would happen to me if I tried to interfere with your plans.” “To you?” Whipple gave a loud snicker. “Then you didn’t get it straight. Nothing very terrible is going to happen to you, dearie. Guess you aren’t the kind that's easily scared, anyhow. Everybody knows that the Grey Phantom’s moll has nerve. No, something’s going to happen, all right, but not to you.” He put an emphasis in the last words that filled Helen with uneasines. His implication was terrifyingly clear, though the exact details were obscure. “There's another thing everybody knows.” Whipple went on, “and that is that you’re crazy about your old man. Wouldn’t want anything to happen to him, would you, dearie? Something will, though, and mighty quick, unless we stop it in a hurry.” He took out his watch and held the dial to the moonlight. “Yep, in just about an hour. We haven't much time to waste." Helen stirred nervously in her seat. The vagueness of Whipple's assertion was more disturbing than plain words would have been. “What do you mean?” she asked huskily. “He! Got a rise out of you, didn't I? Want to know just what’s going to happen to your old man. eh? Well, The Phantom knows, and so does old fatty. That’s why they’re mighty careful not to do anything that might make me nervous. Too bad they didn’t put you wise. Might have saved you a lot of trouble. I’ll give it to you short and sweet, dearie. In just an hour, unless we do something to prevent it, your old man will be headed for a better world. There won’t be any rough stuff; he’ll just keel over and go to sleep. Nobody is going to lay a hand on him, or come near him, even. The thing will happen of itself, without anybody taking a hand in it. All I’ve got to do is to sit tight right here, having a friendly chat with a nice looker, and in an hour the professor will shuffle off.” , Helen shut her lips firmly to stifle an exclamation of honor. Much that he had said was incomprehensible, but the very indefiniteness of his statements inspired her with a name-

less, tormenting dread. Whipple’s ! shrill laugh broke in on her doleful reflections. “Don’t like the idea, I see.' You've got to use your brains when you’re bucking The Grey Phantom. The Phantom is a slick bird, but he’s up against a tough one this time. I can come and go as I please, and he can’t raise a finger against me. If he does, I'll just laugh in his face and remind him of the pinch the professor is in. If he tries to tag along after me, as you did tonight, I’ll just stop and refuse to go any farther, and he knows that unless I get back to a certain place within a given time, the professor will be done for. On your account he’s mighty anxious about the professor’s health. Great little layout, eh, dearie?’’ Helen fixed him with a glance of mingled loathing and dread. She understood little except that Whipple and the gang he represented had invented some diabolical arrangement by which her father would be automatically put to death unless something were done to prevent it. Instinctively she moved her gaze to the little watch on her wrist. It pointed to a few minutes after ten. “It’ll come off at eleven,” Whipple pointed out. “Eleven sharp. What are you going to "do about it? ShaH we sit here chatting like two good friends while your old man kicks off or ” “No!” cried Helen, vehemently. “Not that! I’ll do anything ” “Now you’re talking,” he interrupted approvingly. “Glad you are going to be reasonable. Tell you what I’ll do. I’m not anxious to have the professor go off the hooks just yet. As long as he is alive w r e can make the Phantom shell out dough with both fists. If you'll promise to behave nicely, I'll take you to where your old man is, and then you can go back and tell the Phantom and old fatty what you've seen.” He laughed craftily. “It will be a good lesson for them if they should be tempted to start something Promise?” “Yes —yes!” said Helen, feeling w stifling tightness at the throat. “Only hurry!” “Oh, I’ll hurry, all right. This old boat of yours is too slow. We’ll take mine.” Helen acquiesced, conscious only of a burning desire to prevent the dreadful fate at which Whipple had hinted as being in store for her father. Perhaps a saving inspiration would come to her later, but at present she had no choice, except to follow him. She sat down beside him in the yellow car, and she did not protest when he

bound her hands behind her back and blindfolded her eyes. In a moment they were on their way, travelling at a speed that caused the wind to roar like thurder in her ears. CHAPTER XH. CAPTURED They made numerous turns, it evidently being Whipple's intention to confound her sense of direction. As Helen sat straining forward in her seat, she was conscious of nothing but the rush of wind against her face and a fervent wish that her companion would drive still faster. Time and locality became hazy quantities in her mind. It seemed as if they had been travelling for hours when at last the car drew up with a jerk. “Five minutes to eleven,” said Whipple, as he helped her from the seat and started to conduct her over a rough stretch of ground. As they walked, she was vaguely conscious that the wind had a salty tang and brushed her face with a moist touch. They stopped, and she heard a key squeak in a lock, and then Whipple pushed her forward. A door closed at her back, and she heard her companion fumbling about in the darkness, i A vague shimmer penetrating the cloth before her eyes told her that he had made a light, and then her eyes were uncovered, but he made no move to release her hands. “All modern conveniences,” he placidly pointed out, indicating an electric light bulb on the wall. “There's a town about a third of a mile back I of here, and the plant there supplies us with gas and electricity.” The remark sounded utterly trivial, but somehow she perceived a hidden meaning in it. She was in a state of quivering excitement and saw things through a blur. It was an uninviting place, with murky brick walls and an accumulation of dilapidated implements stacked along the sides. From the appearance of it, it might have been a fisherman’s dwelling long since abandoned. With maddening deliberation Whipple lighted a cigarette. "Bet you don’t know where you are?” he remarked. “Where is father?” asked Helen chokingly, looking about her. He ignored the question. “Great little hiding place! Not more than one chance in a million that anybody will come here. We could keep the professor in this joint for a year and nobody would ever think of looking for him here.” “But I don't see him.” “You will soon enough. I want to show you the arrangement I explained to the Phantom and old fatty. They haven’t seen it, and I want you to go back and give them a descrip-' tiou of it. It may induce them to hurry up with the coin. It will have a healthy effect on them to be told what you saw with your own eyes. Look around a bit.” Helen did, but at first she could see nothing out of the ordinary. Then a

loud, rhythmic ticking drew her gaze to an alarm clock placed on a shelf along the wq,ll near the ceiling. She saw that the hands pointed to two minutes of 11, and in an instant the homely appliance took on a sinister significance in her imagination. “Look closer,” said Whipple. MACHINERY OP DEATH Helen advanced a few steps across the cluttered floor. She saw now that a thin length of wire extended from the back of the clock to the tap of a gas pipe running along the ceiling. She glanced bewilderedly at Whipple, whose face twitched with malevolent enjoyment. He offered no enlightenment, and she looked back at the clock. The minhte hand was almost touching 12. “Watch now,” said Whipple. “I w r ant you to see what would have happened if we hadn’t got here in time.” He had barely finished speaking when a shrill rattling sound began to din in her ears. The alarm was goiDg off, but at first the fact meant nothing to her. Then her gaze shifted from the clock to the wire extending from its back to the gas cock. It had tautened the moment the din started, and now she could see it jerking at the cock, turning it slowly round. Though she still understood nothing, a shudder ran through her at the sight. “That cock up there turns very easy,” Whipple explained. “Just a little pull is enough. Guess what’s happening now?” Helen said nothing. She was ren- | dered dumb and motionless by an incomprehensible horror. »,

“I’ll tell you,” drawled Whipple. “The pipe you see up there runs into an upstairs room. When the cock is turned, gas flows into that room. The room is almost airtight, and the end of the pipe is in a place that the person who lives in the room can’t get at. How long do you suppose he can keep alfve?” A shuddering cry broke from ; Helen’s lips. The diabolical arrange-! meat was hideously clear now. "Stop it!” she exclaimed. “For heaven’s sake ” “Sure,” said Whipple calmly. “That’s what I came back to do.” Leisurely he swung a rickety chair against the ■wall, stepped cn it, stopped the alarm, and turned the cock back. “You see, dearie, I set the alarm to go off at 11. I figured I’d be back by that time. I always set it before I go away from here, allowing three or four hours for my return, depending on how long I expect to stay away. If the Phantom and his crew take a notion to follow me or try any other kind of funny business on me, I just sit tight and laugh at them. They know what will happen if I don’t get back before the alarm goes off. It's the best kind of life insurance for me. Simple but effective. Get the idea, dearie?” “It’s—it’s monstrous,” cried Helen.