CHAPTER VIII
THE VOICE ON THE WIRE
The Gray Phantom lay on his back in W. Rufus Fairspeckle's ample bedand tried to grasp the meaning of what had happened. His host'sattempt to drug him savored strongly of melodrama, and it seemedsomewhat grotesque in view of the fact that it had occurred in anup-to-date and centrally located hotel. What puzzled him most was themotive behind the attempt. If Mr. Fairspeckle suspected that he wasMr. Shei, why had he not handed his guest over to the police? On theother hand---- But his conjectures in that direction brought The Phantomface to face with a theory that made his thoughts whirl.
His eyes flitted over the room. The color combination was restful, butthe decorations, and especially the pictures, bespoke rather extremetastes. He had gathered, from what little he had seen of thesurroundings, that Mr. Fairspeckle was occupying a luxurious apartmentconsisting of several rooms and that it had been fitted up to suit hisindividual requirements. Haiuto, the rat-footed Japanese servant,seemed to be his only companion.
An hour passed, and The Phantom's cogitations brought him back to thestarting point. Nothing seemed certain beyond the indubitable factthat Mr. Fairspeckle was a highly mysterious individual. The rest wasfull of vague and hazy surmises. The Phantom waited patiently,wondering what his host's next move would be, for he had decided toplay a passive role for the present. He explored his pockets and wasthankful that his automatic had not been taken from him. Evidently hisjailer was depending on the drug to keep him in a harmless condition.
His keen ears detected footsteps approaching the door, and in atwinkling he was lying prone on the bed, simulating the completeinsensibility that comes with drug-induced sleep. The door came open,then furtive steps crossed the floor, and The Phantom felt a pair ofsharp eyes on his face. His regular breathing seemed to satisfy thesilent watcher, for after a little he turned away. As he reached thedoor, The Phantom flicked open an eyelid and saw Haiuto. Evidently theservant had entered the room to make sure that the effects of the drugwere not wearing off.
The door closed almost noiselessly. Again The Phantom sat up. A glanceat his watch told him it was a few minutes after two. He slid his feetfrom the bed and tiptoed cautiously to a window and raised the shade.As he looked out, an undersized figure on the opposite sidewalkinstantly caught his eye. As far as appearances went, the man mighthave been only an idler engaged in the pastime of ogling the femininepassers-by, but The Phantom's practiced eyes saw at once that he wasthere for a purpose. The stealthy glances which he occasionallyleveled at the windows of Mr. Fairspeckle's apartment gave anunmistakable clew to his mission.
The Phantom's brows contracted as he quickly lowered the shade. Was itpossible someone had seen and recognized him on his way from thestation and later trailed him to Mr. Fairspeckle's apartment. Thethought was annoying, for he disliked having his movements hampered byspies. Then, as he turned away from the window, another possibilitysuggested itself. Perhaps Mr. Fairspeckle, and not himself, was beingkept under surveillance of the fellow on the sidewalk. The theory wasstartling and rather improbable; yet it coincided with the suspicionthat had kept flashing in and out of The Phantom's mind.
He examined the mechanism of his automatic and made sure the cartridgechamber was loaded. He sensed a hint in the air that before long hemight have occasion to use the weapon. He was in the act of returningit to his hip pocket when of a sudden he pricked up his ears. Fromsomewhere in the apartment came a series of faint, clicking sounds. Atfirst he tried in vain to identify them, but finally it came to himthat someone was using a typewriter.
"Typewriter?" he mumbled. The word seemed to hold a hiddensignificance, but for a while his mind was unable to grasp it. He didnot believe that either Mr. Fairspeckle or Haiuto had occasion to usesuch an instrument, yet he was almost certain that the sounds werecoming from one of the adjoining rooms. The clicks were slow andirregular, he observed, indicating that the writer was unfamiliar withthe machine and was having some difficulty picking out the characterson the keyboard.
He stole to the door and opened it a crack. The sounds became louder,and the writer's awkward groping for the keys was more noticeable now.For a moment The Phantom stood listening; then his figure grewsuddenly tense. A thin smile hovered about his lips as he recalledthat the announcements which Mr. Shei had distributed throughout thecity had been written on a typewriter.
It might mean little or nothing, but there was a keen glitter in ThePhantom's eyes. In itself the clicking of the machine signifiedscarcely anything, but in conjunction with other circumstances it wasfairly suggestive. With noiseless tread The Phantom tiptoed in thedirection whence the sounds were coming. Now and then he darted aquick glance about him, as if expecting a rear attack from theJapanese servant, but Haiuto was nowhere in sight. He traversedseveral rooms before he came to a dead stop in a doorway.
At a table near the window, with his back to The Phantom, sat Mr.Fairspeckle. He was hunched over a typewriter, laboriously poking atthe keys with the index finger of each hand. Silently The Phantomapproached until he stood directly at the older man's back. Mr.Fairspeckle, all his energies centered on his difficult task, noticednothing. Leaning slightly forward, The Phantom cast a swift,comprehensive glance at the paper in the machine. Then his twinklingeyes looked downward. On the desk, at Mr. Fairspeckle's elbow, lay alittle pile of papers. The topmost one was partly covered withtypewriting, and the wording was precisely the same as that on thepaper in the machine.
The Phantom had seen enough. He drew his automatic from his pocket,then waited until Mr. Fairspeckle stopped writing and pulled the sheetfrom the machine.
"You seem to be fairly busy, Mr. Shei," he observed in soft tones.
Mr. Fairspeckle jerked up his shoulders, then sat as rigid as ifsuddenly turned into a statue. Finally, with slow and spasmodicmotions, he turned his head and looked into the muzzle of ThePhantom's automatic. A startled look leaped into his eyes and hissallow face turned a shade paler.
"You!" he exclaimed.
"I watered one of your ferns with the coffee Haiuto handed me," ThePhantom explained. "A cruel way to treat an inoffensive plant, I'lladmit, but there was nothing else handy. Mind if I have a look?"
Lowering the weapon a trifle, he picked up the sheet of paper Mr.Fairspeckle had just drawn from the machine. Watching the older manout of the tail of an eye, he read the typewritten lines:
In accordance with my promise, I herewith announce the names of the seven gentlemen whom by certain means at my disposal I shall persuade to hand over half of their respective fortunes to me.
Then followed a list of seven names, each one suggestive of untoldwealth and vast influence in the financial world, and The Phantomsmiled as he noticed that W. Rufus Fairspeckle was one of them. By wayof signature Mr. Shei's name was typed at the bottom of theannouncement.
"Not bad," commented The Phantom. "By including yourself among theseven victims you make sure that no suspicion becomes attached to thefair name of W. Rufus Fairspeckle. Anyhow, since you are one of therichest men in town, it would look rather odd if your name wereomitted. Congratulations, Mr. Shei."
The other looked stolidly into the muzzle of the automatic. ThePhantom's sudden and unexpected appearance seemed to have paralyzedhis tongue.
"You could save a lot of time by taking carbon copies," suggested ThePhantom, riffling the sheets lying beside the machine. "You will needa hundred or more to plaster the town effectively. I understand nowwhy you took that long walk this morning. There's nothing like havinga pleasant pastime when one can't sleep. What I don't understand ishow you meant to put your plan into effect."
A sickly smile cruised about Mr. Fairspeckle's bloodless lips.
"Oh, I don't expect you to let me in on the secret," The Phantom wenton. "With your past performances in mind, I have no doubt you wouldhave executed your threat in a manner becoming your genius. There'sonly one thing about your achievements that has disappointed me. Idon't see why you had to copy my methods so slavishly. For a wh
ile Iwas almost certain that Mr. Shei was one of my former associates, andthat's why----" He checked himself on the point of explaining why he hadcome out of hiding. "Couldn't you have shown a little moreoriginality?"
An inarticulate mumble came from Mr. Fairspeckle's lips. His fingersfidgeted nervously over his knees.
"Well don't try to explain. I suppose the police will attend to thatpart. There will be quite a sensation when it becomes known that W.Rufus Fairspeckle is the mysterious Mr. Shei. I wonder what drove youto it. You were bored with the life of a gentleman of leisure, Isuppose, and then you had a goose to pick with your old enemies. Itake it that was your chief motive. Well, Mr. Shei----"
A dulcet tinkle interrupted him, and he glanced quickly at thetelephone on Mr. Fairspeckle's desk.
"You may answer," he said after a moment's hesitation.
Mr. Fairspeckle reached out a trembling hand for the instrument. Heput the receiver to his ear and spoke a feeble "Hello" into thetransmitter. In the next instant his face went blank. "It's for you,"he announced, gazing dazedly at The Phantom.
"For _me_?" The Phantom stared incredulously at the instrument. To thebest of his knowledge, his whereabouts was known to nobody but Mr.Fairspeckle and the Japanese servant. Quickly gathering himself, heplaced the automatic within easy reach and took the telephone from Mr.Fairspeckle's hand. He started as a voice came over the wire.
"Mr. Shei speaking," it announced in level tones. "If you value MissHardwick's life, I would advise you to abandon your present plans.That is all."
Then a click, and the connection was broken.
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