The Gray Phantom Part 16

Culligore hesitated. A thin, inscrutable smile hovered above his lips.

"If he is, he gave himself a dose of his own medicine," was his final comment.

"And that's precisely what I think he did." The Phantom, speaking in low tones, gave the table a resounding thwack. "Being one of the city's richest men, he knew suspicion was apt to turn in his direction, unless he was inoculated along with the others. He is easily one of the seven wealthiest men in town, and it would have looked queer if he had been omitted. And so, to ward off suspicion, he had a dose of the poison injected into his own veins, though I suppose the amount was carefully adjusted so it would produce the characteristic symptoms without causing death."

Culligore appeared to ponder. "Not bad reasoning," he remarked. "That would be on a par with the trick he played on you yesterday.

Fairspeckle seems to be a shrewd old fox, the kind that isn't overlooking any bets. Maybe you're right. In that case, of course, the binding and gagging of the j.a.p was a blind."

The Phantom nodded.

"Well, whoever Mr. Shei is, he certainly put one over last night," was Culligore's rueful comment. "He seems to have a gang of highly trained followers who do exactly as he tells them without batting an eyelid.

Last night, between ten o'clock and two in the morning, he sent one or more of his men to the homes of each of the seven victims. In two or three instances the servants were bribed, I understand. Anyhow, Mr.

Shei's men got in by some hook or crook. Four of the seven were caught in bed and trussed up before they could say Jack Robinson. Two of the others were tapped on the back of the head when they returned home from the theater, and one got his in a taxicab. Mr. Shei made a clean sweep."

"What do the doctors say?"

"Most of them are doing some fancy stalling to cover up what they don't know. The high muckamucks of the profession are holding a consultation this morning to decide what's to be done. One of them let slip the information that the symptoms look something like a combination of rabies and delirium tremens, but he believes the disease is produced by one of the ancient poisons that were known to the Asiatics. The fact that the doctors are keeping mum is a bad sign.

It will be interesting to see how many of the patients will cough up Mr. Shei's price for the antidote. If all of them come across, Mr.

Shei will rake in a good many millions."

"Billions, rather, I should say." The Phantom smiled wearily. "If successful, the experiment will be unique in that it will demonstrate just how much a billionaire considers his life to be worth. But that isn't what I wanted to talk with you about. Culligore, I still think that Fairspeckle knows where Miss Hardwick can be found."

"Well?" Culligore gazed noncommittally into s.p.a.ce.

"I wonder if some sort of pressure couldn't be brought to bear on him to make him divulge what he knows. Last night he was in no condition to be questioned, and to-day, I can hardly make a move without running the risk of being arrested."

"I should say you can't!" declared Culligore explosively. "It's as much as my job is worth to be seen here talking with you. The Gray Phantom is a marked man, if ever there was one. Fairspeckle and the j.a.p swear you were in the apartment late last night, and Fairspeckle believes--or pretends to believe, which amounts to the same thing--that it was you who squirted the poison into his veins. Of course, he doesn't pretend to know just how it happened, but he remembers seeing you just as he was recovering his senses. You'd better take my advice and lie low for a while. I'll see what I can do with Fairspeckle, though I haven't any high hopes. I'll have him watched, and it's just possible that we can squeeze some information out of him. But look here. Aren't you starting this thing from the wrong end?"

The Phantom gave him a puzzled glance.

"When Miss Hardwick left the Thelma Theater day before yesterday,"

pursued Culligore, "I could have sworn she was on her way to see you.

She didn't say anything about her plans, but that was the idea I got from her actions."

The Phantom shook his head. "If she started for my place, she never got there. I called up on the long distance this morning, and was told that nothing has been seen of her. Of course, something may have happened to her on the way."

"Well, I wouldn't worry just yet. The young lady has a lot of s.p.u.n.k, and I'll bet a pair of pink socks she knows how to take care of herself. It mightn't be a bad idea to get in touch with her father. He may have had some news from her since yesterday. I must be on my way.

Mr. Shei is putting gray hairs on my head."

Culligore rose, and the two men shook hands. They parted after the lieutenant had once more admonished The Phantom against exposing himself to arrest. For a moment or two after the detective had left the place, The Phantom looked dubiously at the door through which he had departed.

"There's something queer about Culligore," he mumbled. "I wonder if he----"

He did not finish the thought, but with a shrug of the shoulders he stepped out and looked warily up and down the sidewalk. Culligore's warning had not been needed to impress upon him that caution was necessary. He sniffed danger in the very air he breathed as he slunk across the street, walked a block to the east, then ducked into a deserted doorway. A taxicab appeared, and he signaled the driver. For a moment he hesitated as to his next move, then Culligore's parting advice occurred to him and, after consulting the small notebook he carried, he gave the chauffeur the address of the Hardwick residence.

The cab started. The Phantom glanced sharply through the windows. A familiar and yet intangible sensation had been with him constantly for the past hour. Now and then, at long intervals, he had had a fleeting impression that he was being watched. Now, as the cab chugged its way down the avenue, a sixth sense told him he was being followed, yet he could detect no sign of pursuit in the welter of traffic. He tried to dismiss the impression, knowing that in his present state of high mental tension his senses were not to be trusted.

He alighted in front of a modest brownstone house, its rigid exterior relieved by sprawling vines and flowers in the window boxes. The female servant who opened the door announced that Mr. Hardwick was at home, and The Phantom gently pushed past her. In the room he entered, a thin, stoop-shouldered man was pacing back and forth with hands clasped at his back. He stopped abruptly at sight of The Phantom and peered blankly into the visitor's face.

"You know me?" inquired The Phantom.

"It's--it can't be--The Gray Phantom?" A startled look appeared in Mr.

Hardwick's deeply furrowed face. He came a few steps nearer. "But you _are_ The Gray Phantom, I see. I recognize you from your photographs.

Where is my daughter?"

The Phantom was a trifle taken aback by the sharply spoken question.

"Then you have received no word from her? I telephoned your house shortly after my arrival in the city and was told she had been missing for twenty-four hours. I was in hopes you might have heard from her this morning. That's why I called."

"I have not seen my daughter since breakfast day before yesterday,"

explained Mr. Hardwick in quavering tones. "In the afternoon I received a brief message from her announcing she did not expect to be home for dinner and telling me not to worry. She is an impetuous child, and it isn't the first time she has caused me anxiety. Her message made me very uneasy, for she had been acting strangely ever since--since----"

"Since the affair at the Thelma Theater," guessed The Phantom.

"Listen, Mr. Hardwick. I am as deeply concerned in what has happened to her as you can possibly be. I intend to find her, no matter where she may be. Can you trust me?"

Mr. Hardwick's dim eyes searched The Phantom's face for a long time.

At first there was a look of doubt and suspicion in the old man's countenance, but it faded gradually away.

"I believe I can," he declared. "I know what your past has been, and I confess I have disapproved strongly of the friendship between you and my daughter. She is still impressionable and there are romantic notions in her head, and you will forgive me if I say that you did not seem quite the proper person for her to a.s.sociate with."

"I can understand that," murmured The Phantom. "Your att.i.tude was quite natural in view of the circ.u.mstances."

"And so," continued Mr. Hardwick, "when your letters came I did not feel justified in giving them to her. I was not unappreciative of what you had done for her and me, but I feared she might form an unsuitable attachment. In short, I destroyed the letters after a glance at the handwriting on the envelope."

The Phantom smiled faintly. "I know you acted for what you thought your daughter's best interests. It is not for me to criticise your conduct in the matter. I can readily see---- But wait." The Phantom's brow suddenly clouded. "How many letters did you intercept?"

"I think there were two. One came in the spring; the other late in the summer. Yes, I am quite sure there were only two."

The Phantom's narrowing gaze swept the older man's face. His lips tightened into a grim line. "The letter I mailed in the spring was the one in which I told your daughter of my removal from Azurecrest to Sea Glimpse," he explained in tense tones. "I had promised to keep her informed of my movements so that she could communicate with me if she should ever need me." He paused for a moment. "Have you any idea where your daughter might have gone? Didn't she say anything that suggested what her plans were?"

"She talked rather incoherently at breakfast, but said nothing about intending to go away. When I received her message later in the day, it occurred to me that she might have gone in search of you. You had been mentioned several times in our talks together, and I thought that----"

"If her intention was to find me, she probably went to the wrong place," gravely interrupted The Phantom. "Not knowing of my removal to Sea Glimpse, she naturally would look for me at Azurecrest. I sold the place through a broker and never even learned the name of the present owner. But her going to Azurecrest doesn't explain her absence for the past twenty-four hours. She would naturally return at once upon learning that I was not there. The trip by train takes only two or three hours. I fear something must have happened to her on the way.

Well, we shall soon learn----"

He dashed across the room, s.n.a.t.c.hed up the telephone from its stand in a corner, and, after being connected with the long-distance operator, gave his old number at Azurecrest. A wait followed. The Phantom stood tense and rigid, while Mr. Hardwick dazedly drew his palm across his forehead. He gazed expectantly at The Phantom while the latter spoke briefly into the transmitter. Finally, with a puzzled look in his face, The Phantom hung up.

"The present owner of Azurecrest is a Mr. Slade," he announced. "I just had him on the wire. He tells me nothing has been seen of Miss Hardwick, or of any person resembling her."

Mr. Hardwick looked as if he did not quite know whether to feel relieved or discouraged. The Phantom grasped his hand.

"Don't worry," he said in a tone of hopefulness which he was far from feeling. "We will find your daughter. I shall communicate with you as soon as I learn something."

He squeezed the older man's hand and walked out. Though he could not understand why, his interview with Hardwick and his brief talk with Slade had intensified his fears and misgivings. It seemed as though the mystery of Helen's disappearance had become darker and deeper.

Suddenly, as he stood irresolute on the doorstep, he heard someone call his name. A limousine had silently drawn up at the curb, its sides of burnt sienna flashing brilliantly in the sunlight, and at the window, beckoning him with a smile and a nod, he saw a woman's face.

He stepped forward, and the woman leaned slightly from the window.

"If you will step in," she whispered, "you may learn something of interest concerning the young person you are looking for."

The door opened invitingly. The words had exerted a magical effect on The Phantom, and without a moment's hesitation he entered. As the car glided away, he noticed that the woman had a young, dark face, a figure almost serpentine in its slenderness, and that there was an air of gay insouciance about her smartly embroidered frock and rakish picture hat that seemed to clash with the subtlety and craftiness expressed by her pale-green eyes.