CHAPTER VII
MR. SHEI SHOWS HIS HAND
In the dusk of the following morning a tall, gray-clad figure alightedfrom a train in the Grand Central terminal, glanced cautiously toright and left among the thin scattering of passengers, and with afurtive air traversed the vast concourse and gained the street by oneof the side exits. With the habitual vigilance of a hunted man, hepaused for a few moments under the canopy and scanned the face of eachloiterer and passer-by. A dull, discordant din testified that the citywas awakening, and a pale shimmer of dawn was shattering the mistshanging like a gauzy veil over Manhattan. Finally the gray-clad figuremoved on, walked a block and a half to the west and, selecting anunpretentious restaurant, stepped in and ordered breakfast.
The Gray Phantom's campaign was on.
Perils lurked everywhere. Though he had changed his ways, he had notyet paid off his old scores. He still had the law to reckon with, forthe outstanding charges against him were grave and numerous enough tosend him to prison for the rest of his life. The capture of The GrayPhantom, once one of the most celebrated of rogues, would create aprofound sensation and confer great fame on the captor. Once it becameknown that he had emerged from his hiding place, the entire city wouldbe converted into a huge man-trap with claws set to catch thecelebrated outlaw.
That was not all. The newspaper accounts of the police inquiry intothe Thelma tragedy, which The Phantom had carefully perused on thetrain, had hinted rather broadly that Mr. Shei and The Gray Phantomwere identical. It was pointed out that Mr. Shei's exploits were theonly ones in recent years that had equaled The Phantom's as tomagnitude and daring, and that there were many points of similarity inthe methods of the two rogues. To be sure, The Phantom had never beenknown to stoop to murder, but this did not necessarily eliminate himas an object of suspicion, and it was significant that the commissionof the crime had been hedged in with all the subtlety andmysteriousness that characterized The Gray Phantom's tactics. It waspredicted that if The Phantom were apprehended, the mysterysurrounding the identity and the movements of Mr. Shei would becleared up automatically.
The Phantom smiled faintly as he finished his breakfast and walkedout. His step was elastic, and his eye held the steely gleam which hisformer associates had learned to interpret as a sign that their leaderwas bent on some stupendous adventure. It was still early, and therewas only a thin sprinkling of traffic in the streets, and the chancesof his being recognized were correspondingly slight.
As yet he had no definite plan in mind. His decision to make war onMr. Shei had been made suddenly and largely on the impulse of themoment. It was in keeping with his determination to blot out that partof himself which the world knew as The Gray Phantom. The realizationhad come to him in a flash that the work of his other self was beingcarried on vicariously by the person known as Mr. Shei. If hissuspicions were correct, and if the latter was indeed a disciple ofhis, then Mr. Shei was a part of the past he had vowed to uproot anddestroy. His regeneration would not be complete until this object hadbeen accomplished.
He chuckled a little as he walked along. It was odd, he thought, thatWade should have guessed the motive for his determination to tear hispast to shreds. Throughout his striving and reaching for somethinghigher and better, The Phantom had vaguely and instinctively felt thatthe bright, brown eyes of Helen Hardwick were his lodestars, butWade's crudely phrased remark had been needed to make the impressionclear. He knew it was largely because of Helen's faith in him that hewas now attacking the hardest and most perilous task of his career.Vaguely he wondered what she would think when she heard of his latestadventure, and he felt a fleeting temptation to tell her of hisdecision. He rejected it, however, resolving it would be time enoughto make his plans known to her when they were in a more mature shape.
The sight of a knot of curious idlers outside a drug store in TimesSquare caused him to quicken his steps. He knew the psychology of citycrowds and that the merest trifle is sufficient to attract a throng,but this gathering seemed to have been drawn together by something outof the ordinary. As unobtrusively as he could, he wedged his waythrough the little crowd, consisting mostly of homeward-bound nightworkers and belated pleasure seekers, and now he saw the object oftheir interest was a small square of paper pasted to the pane of theshow window. A flicker of surprise crossed The Phantom's face as heread the typewritten inscription:
For the diversion of the public and the edification of the police, I beg to announce that my next, and so far, greatest, coup will be directed against the seven wealthiest men in New York City, whose names I shall take a pleasure in announcing in a day or two. By a unique and sensational method of persuasion these gentlemen will be induced to transfer half of their respective fortunes to me.
Mr. Shei.
A grin tugged at The Phantom's lips as he read the announcement asecond time. Mr. Shei, in flaunting his intentions before the eyes ofthe public and the police, was living up to time-honored traditions ofmelodrama. It was of a piece with the rascal's erratic and extravagantnature, and the boastful phrasing of the announcement, as well as theincidental taunt flung at the police, was quite characteristic of him.Yet, despite the pompous claptrap with which Mr. Shei was adorning hisproject, the magnitude of it appealed to The Phantom's imagination. Itwas fully as great and daring an enterprise as The Phantom himself hadever attempted. If the scheme succeeded--and Mr. Shei's undertakingsinvariably did--the loot would run well into ten figures.
From remarks dropped by the bystanders he gathered that stickersbearing the same boastful announcements had been distributed duringthe early morning hours at various points throughout the city. Mr.Shei seemed to have spared no pains in his effort to startle themetropolis. The Phantom was edging away from the throng when a fewwords, spoken in low and drawling tones, caused him to look quicklyaside.
"Pardon, but haven't we met before?"
The Phantom felt a faint thrill of apprehension. Recognition at thispoint might prove disastrous to his plans. Beside him, with tired andred-lidded eyes peering into his face, stood a tall, gaunt man whosesomewhat ludicrous appearance was accentuated by full evening dress.
"I think not," he said hastily, and started to walk away. The other,refusing to be squelched, fell into step beside him.
"Now, isn't that queer?" he remarked with a wheezy chuckle. "Themoment I saw you it occurred to me that your face seemed familiar. Bythe way, what do you think of Mr. Shei's latest?"
"Quite ambitious." The Phantom gave his uninvited companion a keenglance, and the covert scrutiny stirred several shadowy recollectionsin his mind. The curious individual seemed well past middle age, andhis sallow complexion and furrowed face indicated decrepit health. Hewalked with a shuffling gait and a catarrhal affection of the nosenecessitated frequent use of his handkerchief. The Phantom was tryingto recall when and under what circumstances they had met before, buthis face indicated nothing but annoyance at an unwelcome intrusion.
"Ambitious is the word," assented the man in evening dress. "Do youknow, my dear sir, that if Mr. Shei carries out his threat and annexesfifty per cent of the seven biggest fortunes in town, his net gainwill run into the billions? I can only hope that I am not one of theseven selected for shearing."
The Phantom gave him another quick glance. A gleam of humor relievedthe woe-begone expression of the man's face. Again The Phantomsearched his memory. The last remark had carried a strong hint to theeffect that his companion was a man of great wealth.
"My name, as you probably know, although you pretend to have forgottenit, is W. Rufus Fairspeckle," continued the other, taking ThePhantom's arm and turning into a side street. "I don't know how manymillions I have, but I have enough to make me a shining mark for Mr.Shei's latest offensive. Ah, I see you remember me now!"
The Phantom's involuntary start had betrayed him. The mere mention ofMr. Fairspeckle's name had instantly clarified his hazy recollections.He recalled now that, some five or six years a
go, he had had a briefand casual encounter with the man. It had occurred in the course ofone of The Phantom's spectacular adventures, and he had almostforgotten the incident that brought them together. Now, as the memoryof it flashed back into his mind, he gazed more intently at hiscompanion.
As the man himself had intimated, W. Rufus Fairspeckle was one of thewealthiest men in New York City. Mostly through luck and partlythrough an inborn genius for speculation, he had amassed a hugefortune. At fifty he had retired from business, declaring that he hadworked hard all his life and was entitled to a rest and a littlediversion. Then he had promptly proceeded to the enjoyment of thepleasures that had been denied him in his youth, and he had gone aboutit with an avidity that created a great deal of jocular comment andmade him known as a very eccentric individual.
"You have a long memory," observed The Phantom, glancing uneasily atMr. Fairspeckle's formal attire. It drew many amused glances frompedestrians, and The Phantom did not care to attract unnecessaryattention. "Now, if you will excuse me, I think I will wish you goodmorning. I have a busy day ahead of me."
"Not so fast," protested Mr. Fairspeckle, clutching The Phantom'ssleeve with his long, bony fingers. "You are coming with me."
The words had a peremptory sound. The Phantom knitted his brows.
"Why, if I may ask?"
"See that cop?" Mr. Fairspeckle pointed to a blue-coated figure half ablock ahead. "He's a hard-working soul and presumably he is ambitiousto obtain promotion. The capture of The Gray Phantom would be quite anevent in his humdrum life."
The Phantom sensed a threat. He glanced about him quickly. The streetswere rapidly filling with traffic, and to break away might not proveeasy. Besides, he was curious to know the reason for Mr. Fairspeckle'sevident determination to detain him. Deciding to adopt the safercourse, he simulated an affable smile.
"Suppose we let the hard-working cop earn his promotion some otherway," he suggested. "Where to, Mr. Fairspeckle?"
"My apartment at the Whipple Hotel. We're almost there. Glad you aregoing to be reasonable, Mr. Vanardy. I need someone to talk to. Eversuffer from insomnia?"
"Never."
"Lucky dog! Insomnia is the bane of my existence. At times, when Ican't sleep, I sit at the club and bore my friends to death. When Ihave no friends to talk to, I walk. Last night I walked from one endof Manhattan Island to the other and halfway back again. Oh, yes, I'mmore chipper than you would think from looking at me. Well, my rambleslast night explain why you see me in these togs. I was just abouttired enough to fall asleep standing on my feet when I saw Mr. Shei'snotice. In an instant I was wide awake again. Confound the fellow'simpudence! Here we are."
The Phantom was conducted through the chastely carved portals of oneof the quieter hotels in the upper Forties, and a few moments laterthey were facing each other across the redwood table in Mr.Fairspeckle's library. The apartment, though luxuriously appointed,was a faithful reflection of the eccentric nature of its occupant.
"You are careless, Mr. Vanardy," said Mr. Fairspeckle musingly. Thepartly drawn shades admitted only a vague half-dawn into the room, andthe shadows lent an air of mysteriousness to his appearance. "It isn'tsafe for a man in your position to walk about without disguise."
"Disguises are treacherous things. I have used them now and then, butordinarily I feel safer without them. Anyhow, no one but you is awareof my presence in New York."
Mr. Fairspeckle drew a palm across his chin. His red-lidded eyesregarded The Phantom shrewdly. "I wonder what brings you to New Yorkat this particular time--at the very time when Mr. Shei is launchinghis most ambitious scheme. You will admit the coincidence is ratherstriking?"
"Some people might deduce from it that I am Mr. Shei," suggested ThePhantom, smiling. "They would be wrong."
There was a quiver at the corners of Mr. Fairspeckle's thin lips. Hiseyes held a suspicious twinkle.
"Perhaps," he commented dryly. Then he fell to drumming the table withhis finger tips. "What I would like to know for certain is whether Iam one of the seven. You see, I wouldn't object to being murdered bythis Mr. Shei. Most people think I'm leading a useless life and oughtto be dead, anyhow. It won't be long until an undertaker pumps mycarcass full of formaldehyde. What I object to is the idea of beingswindled out of my money. No man ever got the best of me yet, and Idon't intend that Mr. Shei shall make a fool of me. He can kill me,but I won't hand him a cent. I'll be hanged if I will!"
He thumped the table with his fist. There was something so ludicrousabout his grim earnestness that The Phantom could scarcely repress asmile. At the same time he was conscious of a suspicion for which hecould not quite account. Mr. Fairspeckle's indignation seemed notquite natural. Even the vehement thump of his fist against the tablehad an artificial sound. An intuition, flashing into his mind out ofnowhere, held The Phantom spellbound for a moment. In the next instanthe laughed inwardly at the absurdity of it, telling himself that hemust hold his imagination in leash.
"It will be interesting to see how Mr. Shei intends to proceed," hecasually remarked.
"It will," spluttered Mr. Fairspeckle. "You can trust him to work somedevilishly clever scheme. He always does. Do you suppose," and he benthis bony frame over the table and gazed searchingly at The Phantom,"that the murder at the Thelma Theater night before last was the firstepisode in this latest enterprise of Mr. Shei's?"
"You mean the murder of Miss Darrow? There seems to be no doubt butthat Mr. Shei had a hand in it. Everything points to----"
He paused of a sudden. All at once it occurred to him that there wassomething odd about Mr. Fairspeckle's question. Immediately uponreading of the Thelma murder, The Phantom had suspected that it wasthe prelude to another of Mr. Shei's spectacular adventures, but thesuspicion had been wholly intuitive. As far as outward appearanceswent, there was nothing in the murder of Virginia Darrow to suggestthat it was anything more than an isolated incident. It was curious,therefore, that Mr. Fairspeckle should look for a connecting linkbetween the crime at the Thelma and Mr. Shei's threat.
"Everything points to Mr. Shei as the perpetrator of the murder," heguardedly went on, "but whether the crime has any bearing on Mr.Shei's new venture is hard to tell. It doesn't seem likely. How couldhe possibly further his scheme by an act of that kind? His plan is toseparate seven of New York's richest men from half of their wealth.How is the death of Miss Darrow going to help him in an undertaking ofthat kind?"
A sly smile twitched the corners of Mr. Fairspeckle's lips."Nevertheless," he observed, "I think that you and I agree. I am apretty good judge of faces, and your expression a moment ago betrayedyou, Mr. Vanardy. My question seemed innocent enough at first, but onsecond thought it startled you. Suppose we be frank. Both of usbelieve that the Thelma affair was the beginning of Mr. Shei's latestmove. We can't see how or why just now, but we know that his schemesrun deep. Isn't it so?"
The Phantom, momentarily baffled by the older man's shrewd deductions,gazed pensively at the ceiling. A jumble of thoughts and questionsshot back and forth through his mind. Did Mr. Fairspeckle suspect thatMr. Shei and The Gray Phantom were identical? Or was it possiblethat---- He did not finish the thought. The suspicion that had come tohim several times during the interview seemed just as unreasonable asit was startling, and it had no firmer foundation than two or threepuzzling circumstances and a tantalizing touch of mysteriousness inMr. Fairspeckle's attitude.
"It's an interesting theory, and I've given quite a little thought toit," he finally admitted. "Strange that the same idea should have cometo both of us, isn't it? Especially since there seems to be neitherreason nor logic behind it. How did you happen to think of it, Mr.Fairspeckle?"
The other man stroked his lean chin with a self-satisfied air. "What'sthat old saw about great minds traveling in the same channel? I don'tknow just how the idea came to me, but I'm glad we understand eachother. Now we can talk without quibbling. But first I want a cup ofcoffee. Hope you will join me. Haiuto!"
He fairly shouted the last word
, but The Phantom doubted whether histhin and rasping voice went farther than the walls.
"Haiuto!" Again Mr. Fairspeckle's voice rose to a shrill butinadequate crescendo. "That confounded Jap's pretending he is deafagain. Excuse me, will you?"
He strode irately from the room and slammed the door. A wrinkle ofdeep perplexity appeared on The Phantom's brow. Mr. Fairspecklepuzzled and intrigued him. Either he was a very slippery individual,or else ingenuousness itself. When he returned and announced thatHaiuto would serve their coffee in a few minutes, The Phantom searchedhis face in vain for a sign of guile. If anything, he was a littlemore affable than on leaving the room.
"That fool doctor of mine tells me I mustn't drink coffee," heconfided. "Tells me it's bad for my nerves and keeps me awake. But mynerves are worn to a frazzle, anyhow, and I never can sleep exceptwhen I want to stay awake. What were we talking about? Oh, yes--Mr.Shei."
He clasped his hands across his diaphragm. A queer smile, at oncebeatific and diabolical, came over his face.
"Do you know," he went on in confidential tones, "that I don't care arap if Mr. Shei carries out his scheme as far as the other six areconcerned. Of course, I don't know for certain who they are, but it'sa safe bet that they are no friends of mine. I have a hunch that everyone of them belongs to the old ring that fought me tooth and nailwhile I was climbing up in the world. It's a long story, and I'm notgoing to bore you with it, but you can see why I have no love forthem. I could die happy to-morrow if I could see them lick the dustto-day. I feel different toward you, Vanardy. We had a tilt once, butyou fought fairly. The others tried to knife me in the back. They cango to blazes for all I care."
"Then you and Mr. Shei seem to have at least one aim in common," ThePhantom pointed out. He smiled genially, but his eyes were studyingevery shifting expression in Mr. Fairspeckle's face. For once he feltcertain that the older man was not dissembling. The glint of wrathlurking in the depths of his weak eyes and the vindictive sneer abouthis lips told that he had spoken in all sincerity.
"We have," he declared grimly. "I hope he sends the other six to thepoorhouse. But I have no intention of letting him pluck me, youunderstand. That's where our aims clash. He can go as far as he likeswith the others, but I'll fight like a drunken Indian before I givehim a red cent. I'll see myself in Hades before I----"
A knock and the opening of the door interrupted him. A Japanese with aface as expressionless as mahogany entered with a tray and served themcoffee.
"Queer character, Haiuto," observed Mr. Fairspeckle when the servant,silent as a wraith, had retired. "I think he would cheerfully commithara-kiri if I asked him to do such a senseless thing." He sipped hiscoffee with an air of keen enjoyment. "Great bracer for fagged nerves,eh? Would you believe that for days at a time I live on nothing butcoffee? But let's get back to the subject. What shall we do with thispestiferous Mr. Shei?"
"What would you suggest?" cautiously inquired The Phantom, lifting thecup to his lips.
A beam insinuated itself in the creases of Mr. Fairspeckle's face."Now we're getting down to essentials. As I said, Mr. Shei can fleecethe other six to his heart's content, but he's got to keep hands offme. When I saw you standing in front of the drug store reading Mr.Shei's announcement, I was turning a little plan over in my mind. ThenI didn't quite see how to work it, but I do now."
Again The Phantom brought the cup to his lips. He regarded hiscompanion inquiringly.
"You and I are going to handle Mr. Shei together," declared Mr.Fairspeckle. His face glowed as if a pleasing prospect were warminghis soul. "We will put a crimp in his scheme and show him--why, what'sthe matter, Vanardy?"
The Phantom had slouched down in his chair, and now his head began towag from side to side.
"Nothing," he murmured dazedly. "I just feel a bit drowsy. Would youmind opening the window? The--the coffee----"
His eyes rolled, then the lids fluttered and closed, and he saggedlimply in the chair. With a gratified chuckle Mr. Fairspeckle steppedto the other side of the table and regarded him gloatingly.
"The Gray Phantom isn't half so clever as he's supposed to be," hemumbled. Then his hand went out and touched a button. A moment laterHaiuto stood at attention in the doorway.
"Haiuto," inquired Mr. Fairspeckle, "how much chloral did you mix inMr. Vanardy's cup of coffee?"
"Plenty," said the servant, and this time the ghost of a grinflickered across his face. "He sleep long time."
Mr. Fairspeckle nodded elatedly. "Take him to my bedroom," heinstructed, "and make him comfortable."
With an ease which showed that he possessed all the agile strength ofhis race, Haiuto carried The Phantom into one of the adjoining roomsin the suite, placed him on the bed, and adjusted a pillow under hishead. For a few moments he stood peering down into the motionlessman's face. Then he silently left the room and closed the door behindhim.
A minute later The Phantom raised himself to a sitting posture andblinked his eyes at the sunlight streaming in beneath the drawn windowshades.
"You are fairly clever, Mr. Fairspeckle," he said half aloud, "but youought to modernize your methods. Drugged coffee has gone out offashion. Hope I didn't kill the potted fern at the window behind mychair."
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