CHAPTER XXVI--THE PHANTOM HEARS A SCREAM
Rigid in every fiber, the Phantom stared at the circle of light, whichseemed to have appeared out of nowhere. At first small as the head of apin, it gradually unfolded and expanded, at the same time changing fromwhite into a pale greenish hue that dissolved the surrounding darknessinto translucent mist.
As it grew larger, the light wrapped itself around an object of strangeappearance. It was gray as ashes and its shape gave forth a weirdsuggestion that it had once been a living thing. The pale, ghostly lightthat surrounded it like a nimbus gave it a monstrous character.
"A skull!" mumbled the Phantom. Under ordinary circumstances he couldhave looked upon it calmly, but the stillness and darkness, broken onlyby the pallid glow in the distance, gave the object a mystical touchthat cast a spell over his senses.
His nerves had withstood physical fear in its most severe forms, butthey quavered a little before this subtle and bewildering manifestation.His weakness nettled him and he closed his eyes and sought to banish thething from his mind, but the vision as it lingered in his imaginationwas even more disturbing than the reality. Again he opened his eyes andlooked fixedly to one side, determined not to let an inanimate thing ofbone upset his nerves. A slight shiver ran through him as, among theshadows at the wall, he discerned a dim shape. He could barelydistinguish its outlines, but again he received an impression ofsomething that had once pulsed with life and was now hollow and dead. Hepeered sharply at the blurred shape standing grimly erect a few feetfrom his chair, and presently he saw what it was.
Then he laughed, but the laugh sounded a trifle forced. He had seen asimilar object before, in one of the glass cages in Doctor Bimble'slaboratory, but he had regarded it with no stronger feeling than mildcuriosity. Now, in the stillness and gloom, the sight made him feel asif a dead hand had touched him. He turned his head toward the oppositewall, and there, etched dimly in the shadows, was another figure. A fewfeet away he glimpsed a third, and in the distance were a fourth and afifth.
In the air there was a creeping chill, like a breath from a tomb. Hefelt no fear, but he experienced the acute depression that seizes eventhe strongest when standing in the presence of death, and his physicaland mental distress was aggravated by his inability to move even an arm.The stifling air made him feel as though he were in a black and silentmausoleum, with dead things on all sides.
An unaccountable fascination caused him to look once more at theluminous circle. The greenish light seemed to have grown a trifledimmer, but the waning of the glow only lent an added touch ofhideousness to the object in the center of the nimbus. It fired hisimagination, and he fancied that something loathsome was staring out athim through the black hollows where the eyes had been.
As the circular light faded, he thought it was drawing closer to wherehe sat. As if gently propelled by an invisible hand, the paling circleof light was creeping slowly nearer, moving steadily toward his chair.
He pulled at the ropes. Now the fringe of light was so faint that theskull was only a shapeless blur, but its dimness rendered its creepingapproach all the more uncanny. In a little while, if it continued in itspresent course, it would touch his face. He wondered why his sensesshrank from the encounter, for he knew that the contact could not harmhim.
Finally the light died, leaving an intense, oppressive darkness. Thoughhe could neither hear nor see, he was aware that the object was stillcreeping toward him and that in a few moments he would feel its chillingtouch. There was something subtly enervating about its silent andstealthy advance, something that inspired him with a feeling he hadnever experienced when standing face to face with a foe of flesh andblood.
Then, without apparent cause, he sensed a change in the atmosphere. Theoppression suddenly left him, and he knew instinctively that somethinghad halted the advance of the dreaded thing. He drew a long, deep breathas he tried to account for the relief that had come so suddenly to him.
His thoughts were interrupted by the opening of a door at his back andthe entrance of two men. He could not see them, but their footfalls toldhim that they were groping toward the point where he sat. Silently theyfell to work and released him from the chair, but his arms and legs werestill tied and he was as helpless as before. He wondered, as he wasbeing carried from the room, what fresh ordeal awaited him.
The two men carried him across the hall and into another room, where hewas placed in a chair. He was surprised to see the sunlight streaming inthrough the window, for the darkness from which he had just emerged hadleft an impression of impenetrable night on his mind.
"The big chief will be in directly," announced one of the men as theywere leaving.
The Phantom felt a thrill of expectancy at the thought that at last hewas to come face to face with the Duke's chief agent. Then he began tolook about him. From where he sat, all that was to be seen through thewindow was the murky wall of a factory building. The room was small, andthe only furniture was a table and three chairs. In vain he looked forsomething that might suggest a way of escape.
He turned quickly as a step sounded outside the door. It came open, andfor several moments he stared at the man who entered. Then he laughed, ashort, unnatural laugh that sounded hollow even to himself. The man whostood before him was Doctor Tyson Bimble.
He would never have guessed that the anthropologist was the man throughwhom the Duke directed his criminal enterprises from his cell in prison,but on second thought the discovery was not so surprising. Since theirfirst meeting he had suspected that anthropology was not Bimble's soleinterest in life. He had felt that it was merely a cloak for otheractivities, though it had not occurred to him what these might be.
"You are pale," observed Bimble, looking at him through his thicklenses; "but I sha'n't trouble to feel your pulse this morning. I haveno doubt it's normal."
The doctor, with his stiltlike legs and top-heavy head, seemed asludicrous as ever, and his face wore the same beatific smile that hadgreeted the Phantom when they first met, but his eyes were a triflestern, and there was an unfamiliar briskness about his movements.
The Phantom swallowed his emotions and braced his mind for a duel ofwits with the doctor. Many a time in the past he had outmaneuvered menas crafty as his present adversary. For the present he tried not tothink of Helen, for he would need a clear mind and steady nerves if hewas to help her.
"Have you made any new scientific discoveries since I saw you last,doctor?" he inquired chattily.
Bimble's eyes twinkled. "No; but I dare say you have."
"I have discovered a new use for skeletons."
"New? You are mistaken, my excellent friend. The efficacy of skeletonsand like objects as means of moral suasion has been understood for along time. I believe the wicked old doges of Venice used similar methodswhen they wished to put their enemies into a receptive frame of mind anddid not care to resort to physical torture. It is strange how all ofus--even a strong man like yourself--stand in awe of objects associatedwith death and decay."
"It is," agreed the Phantom dryly. "But I don't quite get the idea. Iadmit the ghostly vaudeville you staged for my benefit was a bit creepy.I would rather face a regiment of smooth rascals like you than agrinning skeleton. But if you expected me to come out of that spookchamber a broken man you are doomed to disappointment."
"I didn't, as a matter of fact." The doctor smiled amusedly. "I am wellaware that it takes something more than that to break a man like theGray Phantom."
"Then what was the object?"
"You shall see presently. My friend, you have given me no end oftrouble. Since the day you made your first unexpected appearance in mylaboratory, I have done my best to save you from the police, but youseemed determined to rush blindly into their arms. I did not realize howstubborn and foolhardy you were till the morning when I entered yourbedroom and found it empty. You knew the police were combing the townfor you, and I had hoped that would keep you in."
"It was a shameless abuse of hospitality," confessed the Phan
tom. "But Itake it you were not altogether unselfish in your desire to save me fromarrest."
Bimble smiled as he ran his eyes up and down the Phantom's figure."Borrowed feathers are not becoming to you," he observed critically."These togs are atrocious. But the idea itself was excellent. I did noteven guess that the Gray Phantom was masquerading as a newspaperreporter until the trick you played on Pinto and Dan the Dope gave me aninkling of the truth. Then, last evening, upon my return from a visit inthe neighborhood, I found you and Lieutenant Culligore in the basementof my house. The few words I overheard were sufficient to verify mysuspicions. I saw that Culligore had you cornered, and I guessed youwould try to reach the tunnel. Then--But I think you know the rest."
"All except what happened to Culligore."
The doctor beamed. "Poor Culligore! He's really a much cleverer man thanyou would think--cleverer than yourself, in certain ways. An automaticequipped with a flash light and a silencer put a bullet into his legwhile he was looking for you in the cellar. A most regrettableaccident!" Bimble laughed softly. "The poor man is now under myprofessional care, and I fear he will not be out for some time."
"I can guess the nature of the professional attentions you are givinghim. But why were you so anxious that I should not fall into the handsof the police?"
"Because I had certain plans in which you were concerned, and yourpremature arrest would have seriously interfered with them. Can't youguess what they were?"
"The Duke has a goose to pick with me, I believe. At any rate, Iunderstand he is not very benevolently disposed toward me."
"You have been correctly advised. The Duke is a very thoroughgoinghater, as you will discover before we are through with you. Not onlythat, but he is an adept in the gentle art of mixing business andpleasure. He also knows how to bring down a flock of birds with a singlestone. Take, for instance, the case of old Sylvanus Gage."
"Yes," murmured the Phantom, fixing the doctor with a keen gaze, "theDuke showed his genius there. He planned the murder very shrewdly sothat the guilt would be fastened on me. It was an admirable way ofgetting revenge."
The doctor smiled. "True, but it wasn't so simple as all that. You arenot giving the Duke half the credit he deserves. I told you that healways mixes business and pleasure. These walls are deaf, so there is noreason why I should not enlighten you. Gage had been for years a memberof the Duke's organization. It was through him the band disposed of theproceeds from its activities. It was a risky business and he lived inconstant danger. Hence the tunnel, which gave him a convenient avenue ofescape in emergencies. The housekeeper, an estimable soul, knew that heremployer was conducting some sort of illegitimate business, and sheassisted him in it to a certain extent, which explains any symptoms ofbad conscience she may have shown. I don't think, however, that she wasaware of Gage's membership in the Duke's organization. Gage was avaluable man, but his insatiate greed led him astray. He double-crossedthe band in financial transactions, and when called to task for hiscrooked work he threatened to cause trouble. To put it briefly, it wasdecided that he must be put out of the way."
"I see." The Phantom smiled, but his eyes were hard. "The Duke avengedhimself on two persons with one stroke. He not only removed Gage, butarranged matters so that suspicion for the crime would fall on me."
"Exactly. You are now beginning to appreciate the Duke's many-sidedtalents. Of course, his main object was to repay you for the mercilessjoke you played on him when you put him and most of his gang behindbars. Where to find you was a poser. It was known that you had takenyour treasures and gone into hiding somewhere, but no one seemed to havethe faintest inkling of your whereabouts. Knowing your sensitivenessabout such matters, the Duke guessed that the murder of Gage, with thecircumstances pointing to you as its perpetrator, would smoke you out."
"It was a good guess. I had to come out and clear myself, and that gavethe Duke his chance. Now that you have me where you want me, what do youpropose to do with me? Am I to be handed over to the police, or have youengaged passage for me on the Stygian ferry?"
The question seemed to amuse the doctor. "If we meant to hand you overto the police we would scarcely have gone to such great lengths to saveyou from arrest. What is to be done with you eventually hasn't beendecided as yet. The Duke's orders are to dispose of you in whichever waywill hurt you the most and give him the ultimate degree of revenge.There is a question involved in that. You are not the kind of man thatfears death."
"Thanks."
Bimble's deceptively mild eyes regarded him carefully. "I think thereare certain other things that would hurt you far more. For instance--Butwe will drop that phase of the subject for the present and get down tothe more practical side. As I told you, the Duke always mixes businessand pleasure, which in this case means a judicious blend of revenge andprofit."
The Phantom's brows went up. A tinge of greed and craftiness had dimmedthe habitual look of serenity in the doctor's eyes. He was looking downat his scrupulously polished shoes while playing with his watch chain.
"How?" asked the Phantom. The uncertainty as to his own fate did nottrouble him in the least, but all his will power was needed to maintaina semblance of coolness whenever he thought of Helen.
"You put in many very busy years at the pleasant occupation of annexingother people's property," murmured the doctor. "The magnitude of yourenterprises has been the talk of the whole continent. There must be agood many millions stored away in that retreat of yours."
The Phantom smiled. Imaginative newspaper writers had pictured the GrayPhantom living like an East Indian potentate in some snug retreat,surrounded by countless treasures and a splendor that would have offereda gorgeous Arabian Nights' setting. The fable, eagerly swallowed by thepublic, seemed wildly grotesque in comparison with the truth.
"You're forgetting something, doctor. I never had the Duke's keen eyefor business. I was not a crook for the sake of the loot, but for theexcitement I found in the game, and I usually gave the stuff away afterI had had the fun of taking it. I haven't much that would interest theDuke."
The doctor's lips curled in a way that indicated strong skepticism. "Youwill let me be the judge as to that, my friend. All I ask of you is thatyou tell me explicitly and veraciously where this collection of yoursmay be found."
The Phantom drew himself up as far as the ropes permitted. The smile wasstill on his lips, but in the depths of his eyes lurked a hard glitter."What if I refuse?"
"Why, man, you can't refuse! You are in no position to do anything butsurrender to my wishes."
"Wrong, doctor." He gave a low, metallic laugh. "You ought to know thatthe Gray Phantom never surrenders. Threats and bullying can't move me aninch. That's absolutely final."
The doctor seemed not at all disconcerted. "I expected you to say that.You are stubborn as a mule, but fortunately I have means of persuasionat my disposal. If I can't bend you, I will break you."
He rose abruptly and left the room. There had been something in histones that lingered in the Phantom's ears after he had gone. He was backin a few moments, and once more his face was wreathed in smiles. Withouta word he sat down, crossed his thin legs, and lighted a cigarette, thensmoked in silence while the Phantom scanned his face for a clew to themysterious errand that had taken him out of the room.
Minutes passed, and still the doctor smiled and smoked. From time totime he raised his tranquil eyes and glanced at the door as if expectingsomebody, and all the while there was an air of pleasurable anticipationabout him.
Suddenly the Phantom stiffened. For a moment he sat rigid, listening,then jerked forward in the chair, straining fiercely at the ropes.
Somewhere in the building a woman had screamed. The shriek, sharp andexplosive, as if inspired by a terror long restrained, dinned withhideous significance against the Phantom's ears. His heart stood stillfor a moment.
The voice that had uttered that mad, unforgettable cry was HelenHardwick's.
The Gray Phantom's Return Page 26