CHAPTER XVI--THE OTHER LINK
The room was in total darkness save for a tiny sliver of light filteringin through a crack between the packing cases stacked against the window.The prowler advanced gropingly after closing the door behind him, andfrom time to time he cleared his throat with little rasping sounds, assome persons do when laboring under intense excitement.
The Phantom, wedged in a narrow opening between two rows of boxes,presently heard a faint scraping, as if the intruder were passing hishand back and forth in search of a light switch. All he could see was ashadow moving hither and thither in the gloom, but the prowler's quickbreathing and jerky footsteps told that, whatever might be his errand,he was going about it in a state of great trepidation.
A sudden flash of light caused the Phantom to press hard against thewall, for he wished to ascertain the other's business before making hispresence known. He judged from the sounds made by the prowler that hemust be at the opposite side of the room, and a succession of loud,creaking noises indicated that he was dragging some of the cases awayfrom the wall. After a little the sounds ceased and the only audiblething was the prowler's hard panting, mingling now and then with a low,hoarse mutter.
The Phantom stood very still. A curious feeling was stealing over him.It was the same weird and oppressive sensation he had experiencedshortly after entering the room, but now it was more pronounced, fillinghim with a sense of awe which he could not understand.
The prowler's footfalls, moving toward the door, broke the spell. ThePhantom, casting off the uncomfortable sensation with a shrug of hisshoulders, stepped out from his hiding place just as a hand gripped thedoorknob.
"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 thefloor. It had not been there when he entered.
The patrolman's face had been white even before he spoke; now it wasashen and ghastly. His eyes, wide with horror, bored into the Phantom'sface. Several times he moistened his twitching lips before he was ableto speak.
"Where did you co--come from?" he gasped.
"Why, nowhere in particular. Just taking a walk. Changed my mind aboutgoing home. But don't look at me as if I was a ghost. Makes me nervous.Great heavens, what's this?"
He started at the grewsome heap on the floor as if he had just nowchanced to cast eye upon it. Pinto made a heroic effort to steadyhimself. His quavering gaze moved reluctantly toward the motionless formlying a few feet from where he stood.
"That's--that's Mrs. Trippe," he announced, twisting his head andworking his Adam's apple as if on the point of choking.
"So I see." The Phantom stepped closer to the body, regarded it gravelyfor a few moments, then lifted his narrowing gaze to the policeman'stwitching face. "Where did it come from, Pinto?"
The officer was gradually gaining control of himself. He took out hishandkerchief and mopped his perspiring forehead. "Awful sight--ain't it,Granger? I thought I heard some kind of racket just as I was passing thehouse. I tried the doors, and the one at the side was unlocked. Ithought it was queer, for I had made sure it was locked when I passedthe other time, so I ran up the stairs and looked around. When I came inhere and turned on the light, I found that thing lying there. It brokeme all up. Fine scoop for your paper, Granger, if you grab it before theother reporters do."
Smiling, the Phantom looked Pinto squarely in the eye. "Your story needsa little dressing up. It doesn't hang together. Maybe you would havebeen able to think up a better one if your nerves hadn't been on thejump. For one thing, Pinto, no cop goes into hysterics at sight of adead 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 muchmistaken, you dragged it out from behind those packing cases."
He pointed to a corner of the room where several large boxes had beendisplaced. The shamefaced expression of a man caught in a clumsy liemingled with the look of dread in Pinto's countenance.
"What you driving at?" he demanded with a feeble show of bluster.
The Phantom's mind worked quickly. In the last fifteen minutes hissuspicions in regard to Pinto had become a certainty. The policeman'sconduct left not a shred of doubt as to his guilt, but the evidence thelaw would require was still lacking. Pinto would soon gather his witsand 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 ofthe law, the latter would have all the advantages. The Phantom, swiftlyappraising the situation, saw that his only hope lay in subtler tactics.Perhaps by adroitly working on the policeman's evident pusillanimity hecould induce him to make a clean breast of it.
"The game's up, Pinto," he said sternly. "You murdered Mrs. Trippe, justas you murdered Gage. Better come clean."
A ghastly grin wrinkled the patrolman's face. "Think so, eh? Younewspaper guys think you're pretty wise, don't you? Well, what proofhave you got?"
For answer the Phantom decided on a random thrust. He took a pencil anda sheet of paper from his pocket and, placing his pistol on a packingcase, roughly sketched a ducal coronet. He held the design close to thepatrolman's eyes.
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 masteredhis emotion. He guffawed loudly.
"Looks like a crow's nest to me," he gibed.
"You recognized it just the same, Pinto. Your face told me you did, sothere's no use denying it. You're a member of the Duke's crew. You hadorders to kill Gage, and you did. It was fairly clever, too, the way youarranged things so suspicion would fall on--ahem, on the Gray Phantom.But the housekeeper somehow saw through you. She was wise to you. Andso, fearing she might tell what she knew and send you to the chair, youkilled her, too. Then----"
"You've got some imagination, you have!" jeered the policeman,struggling hard to maintain a grip on himself.
"Then," continued the Phantom coolly, "you carried the body up here andhid it. Not a very clever move, but you were scared at the time, andpeople do queer things when they are panicky. You realized the Phantomcouldn't be blamed for the murder of Mrs. Trippe, for he was in jailwhen the job was done. Anyhow, everybody thought he was, which amountedto the same thing. You were in no condition to reason things out, andthe only safe way out of the mess you had made seemed to be to hide thebody. It would postpone discovery of the murder for a while and give youa 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."
"Yeah?" taunted Pinto. "Been hitting the booze again, ain't you?"
"No; I'm sober for once. Well, Pinto, after our little talk a while agoyou were a bit worried. You knew someone would find the body sooner orlater, and you thought things would look better all around if you werethe one to find it. Anyhow, there was no reason for keeping it hiddenlonger after it turned out that the police had nabbed the wrong man andthe 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 thestation house."
As he spoke, the Phantom studied every change of expression in theother's face. Pinto winced as if each word had been a needle prick, buthe seemed to be drawing on a reserve force of fortitude, for his couragewas rising rather than ebbing.
"After pulling all that dream stuff," he said sneeringly, "mebbe you'llcome across with the evidence."
"Sure thing." The Phantom's tones belied his crumbling hopes. Herealized 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 hereand drag the body out from behind the packing cases? You seemed to bemaking a bee line for it. How did you know it was there?"
"So that's what you call evidence!" Pinto sneered. "I guess if it comesdown to brass tacks, my word's as good as yours. Now that you've got allthat stuff off your chest, mebbe you'll answer a question or two, andyou might begin by telling what you're doing here yourself."
"A reporter goes everywhere."
"Reporter--huh! You've been on the Sphere four weeks, and soused halfthe time. You came here from Kansas City. You worked on a newspaperthere 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 anhonest-to-goodness reporter, and mebbe you're not. I've got a hunch ofmy own."
"Let's hear it," said the Phantom lightly, though inwardly he feltsomewhat uneasy. Pinto's gaze, constantly searching his face, wasgrowing keener with every passing moment.
"Well, it looks mighty queer to me that you showed up in this burg justa few weeks ahead of the Phantom, especially since you two look so muchalike. What's queerer still is that you got pinched the other day justwhen the Phantom was as good as caught in the net. He would have beenhauled in if you hadn't been grabbed by mistake."
"So, that's it." The Phantom chuckled amusedly. "Just because ithappened that way, you're thinking that I am acting as a foil for theGray Phantom."
"You got me just right, Granger. I'm thinking that, though I'm notsaying much about it yet. Here's another little thing I'd like to getyour opinion on." He came a step closer, looked hard at the Phantom, andput the question sharply. "What's become of Helen Hardwick?"
"He-Helen Hardwick?" The Phantom stood rigid, mouth gaping and eyesstaring.
"She's the one. They say the Phantom has a crush on her and that it wason her account he handed the Duke that wallop some months ago. She'ssupposed----"
The Phantom, his face deathly white, clutched Pinto's arm in a grip thatmade the policeman squirm. "What about Miss Hardwick?" he demandedhoarsely. "Has anything happened to her? Speak, man!"
Pinto freed his arm and gave him a searching look. "All I know is thatshe's missing, and I thought mebbe you----"
"Missing?" echoed the Phantom sharply. "What do you mean? Speak up!"
In his excitement he did not see that the look of perplexity in Pinto'seyes had given way to a cunning twinkle. In another moment the policemanhad acted with a precision and a swiftness that indicated he was a farshrewder man that his looks led one to think. In an instant the pistolhad been beaten from the Phantom's numb hand and in the space of a fewseconds a steel link was gyved around his wrist.
"There, Mr. Gray Phantom!" exclaimed the policeman with a triumphantchuckle. "I guess you won't get away from me this time!"
The Phantom, at last sensing his danger, jumped to one side, but alreadythe other link was fastened around the policeman's wrist. Pinto's wordsregarding Helen Hardwick had stunned him momentarily, and he had notseen his peril until it was too late. Now he was a prisoner, handcuffedto his captor!
"This is more like it!" exclaimed the policeman, kicking aside thepistol his prisoner had dropped and shoving his own weapon against thePhantom's diaphragm. "I've had a hunch all along that, if you weren'tthe Phantom himself, you were his alibi. I'm wise now, all right. Yougave yourself away when I spoke the name of the moll. You turned whiteto the gills and almost jumped out of your shoes. Guess you forgot toplay your role that time, Mr. Phantom. Granger, not being in love withthe lady, wouldn't have thrown a fit like that. Well, we're off for thestation. You can hand 'em the spiel you gave me, and see how much theybelieve of it."
"Before we start, tell me what you know of Miss Hardwick," pleaded thePhantom, for his own plight still seemed of secondary importance.
Pinto shrugged his shoulders. "She's vamoosed; that's all I know. Comealong. Mebbe she'll drop in and see you when you're in jail."
"Jail!" He braced his weight against the pull at his wrist. "I'm notgoing to jail--not while Miss Hardwick's in trouble. You may be a littlestronger than I, Pinto, but I'm in better trim, and you can't budge me."
The policeman tore at the link, but in vain. The Phantom dropped to thefloor, dug his heels into a crack between two boards, and resisted withall his might. Pinto puffed and cursed, but he might as well have triedto lift himself by his own boot straps, and his efforts were furtherhampered by the necessity of keeping the pistol aimed with his freehand. The glint in his captive's eyes hinted that he was but waiting fora chance to land a blow with his fist between the policeman's eyes.
"Say, what's the use stalling?" argued Pinto, resorting to diplomacywhile regaining his breath. "The game's up."
The Phantom knew it, but he was playing for time. Some unexpected turnmight yet reverse the situation and give him the upper hand.
"You're done for, and you know it," said the policeman impressively."Might as well give in."
"Wrong, Pinto. You seem convinced that I'm the Gray Phantom, and youought to know that the Phantom never gives in. I can sit here as long asyou can. Don't you think we had better compromise?"
"Compromise--your grandmother!" grumbled Pinto. "You'll never get out ofthis."
Still pointing the muzzle at his prisoner, he brought the butt of theweapon close to one of his pockets. Two fingers reached down andextracted 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.
The Phantom grinned. "The acoustics are not all that might be desired.The windows are closed, and there are several heavy walls between hereand the street. I fear, Pinto, that your lung power is going to waste."
Disgustedly Pinto dropped the whistle. He considered for a moment, thena grim smile lit up his face.
"You've sung your last tune, Mr. Phantom," he muttered. "There's alwaysa way to handle the likes of you."
As he spoke, he quickly shifted his hold on the pistol, and in anothermoment the handle crashed down on the prisoner's head. Of a sudden thePhantom felt himself grow limp. A laugh broke hoarsely through the gloomthat descended upon him. He heard a voice, but it sounded faint andremote, as if coming to him across a vast chasm.
"Guess you won't get out of _that!_"
Then, miles away, a door slammed. He exerted a supreme effort to shakeoff the numbness brought on by the unexpected blow. His eyes flutteredopen. His mind struggled out of the blinding haze. The light was stillon, and his staring eyes flitted slowly about the room. It seemed only amoment ago that the door had slammed. Pinto was nowhere in sight, andfor a moment he wondered at this.
Then, his mind clearing, it came to him that the policeman had gone outto summon assistance. He had had his lesson, and this time he was takingno chances with so dangerous and elusive a prisoner as the Gray Phantom.Doubtless he would be back in a few moments, and then----
He raised himself to a sitting posture. A hideous recollectionelectrified his body and mind. Helen Hardwick was missing, Pinto hadsaid. Perhaps she was in trouble; perhaps some desperate dangerconfronted her. He must find her at once, and he must get out of theroom before Pinto returned with reenforcements.
He tried to rise, but something restrained him. It was the steel linkaround his wrist. Only a moment ago, so it seemed, the other link hadbeen fastened to Pinto's hand. Now----
A groan of horror broke from his lips as he saw the thing to which hewas linked by a band of steel. Pinto had, indeed, taken no chances. Evenif the Phantom could get out of the room, his hand would be chained tothe cold, dead hand of the housekeeper.
The Gray Phantom's Return Page 16