CHAPTER XXI--FINGER PRINTS
The detective's face was as dull and unimpassioned as a caricaturecarved out of wood. He stood pointing the pistol with a listless air,and his eyes were heavy and sluggish, as if he were not fully awake. Helowered the weapon almost as soon as he saw the Phantom's face, but didnot put it out of sight.
"Oh, it's you, Granger." He spoke in a drawl, and there might have beenthe faintest trace of disappointment in his tones. "I thought it mightbe someone else."
"The Gray Phantom, for instance?"
"Well, maybe. There's no reason, though, why the Phantom should beprowling around here, is there?"
"Apparently not." The Phantom advanced leisurely and looked sharply atthe speaker's stolid face. The question had been spoken in a tonefaintly suggestive of an underlying meaning. "It seems both of us aretaking advantage of the absence of Doctor Bimble and Jerome to do alittle investigating on the quiet."
Culligore yawned ostentatiously. "The doc ought to have new locks put onhis doors. It's too easy for people to get in."
"He is a simple and unsuspecting soul. But tell me, lieutenant, how ithappens that the Phantom's trail leads into Doctor Bimble's basement."
"Does it?"
"Well, I don't suppose you would be here unless it did. Your object incoming here wasn't to interview the skeletons upstairs, was it?"
Culligore laughed softly. "I might put the same question to you."
"Then we're on an even footing. And, since we don't seem to getanywhere, we might as well drop the subject of our mutual presence here.Each of us can take it for granted that the other has a tip which hewants to keep to himself. Seen anything of the Gray Phantom lately?"
"Not exactly."
"What's the idea of the 'exactly'? You either have seen him or youhaven't seen him. Which is it?"
"Neither the one nor the other," said Culligore mysteriously. "With aman like the Phantom you can never be sure. Even when you think you seehim, he isn't always there. Say that was a queer case you tipped me offon this morning."
"It was. Simple enough, though, as far as the murder of the housekeeperis concerned. Apparently there's not the slightest doubt that thePhantom did it."
"Think so?"
The two words, spoken in low and casual tones, caused the Phantom toraise his brows. "Don't you?"
Culligore tilted his head to one side and squinted vacantly into space."Things aren't always what they seem," he drawlingly observed. "I'vebeen seesawing up and down ever since I was turned loose on this case.One hour I feel dead sure the Phantom did it; the next I don't know whatto think."
"All the facts seem to point to the Phantom's guilt."
"That's just the trouble." Culligore scowled a little. "There's such athing as having too many facts. If the evidence wasn't so perfect I'd bemore sure of my ground. As it is, I wouldn't bet more than a pair ofBowery spats on the Phantom's guilt. I'm not sure he killed either Gageor the housekeeper."
The Phantom eyed him intently, trying to read his mind.
"I see," he murmured. "You don't want to believe the Phantom has fallenso low as to----"
"You're talking rot!" snorted the lieutenant, as if touched on asensitive spot. "What I want to believe makes no difference. If I couldlay my hands on the Phantom this minute, I'd put the links on him soquick it would take his breath away. Even if he didn't kill Gage andMrs. Trippe, there are one or two other things we can send him up for."
"I suppose so," said the Phantom thoughtfully. "Much as you would hateto pinch him, you can't let sentiment interfere with duty."
"Sentiment be damned!" grumbled the lieutenant, reddening a trifle as hesaw the knowing grin on the Phantom's face. "I never was long on thatkind of stuff. By the way, what's your opinion of the case, Granger?"
"I haven't any." The Phantom wondered what was going on in the back ofCulligore's mind. He knew the dull features were a mask and that thelieutenant, practicing a trick cultivated by members of his profession,was studying his face every moment without appearing to do so. "You seemto be holding something back," he added.
"Think so?" Culligore uttered a flat, toneless chuckle. "Aren't youholding something back yourself? What's the use trying to hog it all foryour paper?"
"Didn't I tip you off on the doings in the Gage house this morning?"
"You did," said Culligore dryly, "and I'm still wondering how you knewabout them. Did you just walk in on a hunch and discover a dead woman,and a cop chained to an opium-eating runt, or did someone put you wisebeforehand?"
The Phantom felt he was on dangerous ground. "It was only a hunch. Wenewspaper men have them, you know, and once in a while they pan out. Butwhat do you make of it, Culligore? How do you explain the cop beinghandcuffed to Dan the Dope?"
"I don't explain it. I suppose Pinto will tell us how it happened whenhe comes to."
"Think there's any connection between the handcuffed pair and the murderof the housekeeper?"
"How could there be? The medical examiner said the housekeeper must havebeen dead from twenty to thirty hours when the body was found. Besides,where do you find any connection between a murder on the one hand and acop chained to a dope fiend on the other? To my way of thinking, the twocases are separate. The one of Pinto and Dan the Dope is all a riddle,and the only clear thing about it is that the Phantom had a hand in it."
"The Phantom?"
"Yep. The Phantom was in on it. Surprised, eh? Well, there are somethings we don't tell the newspapers, and this was one of them. Just howthe Phantom figured in the thing I can't tell, but he was in the Gagehouse last night or early in the morning. Beats the dickens how thatfellow can walk past our noses without getting caught."
The Phantom stared. He did not think he had left any traces of hisconnection with the affair at the Gage house, and Culligore's statementstartled him for a moment.
"How do you know?" he asked, getting a grip on himself.
"Finger prints," said the lieutenant. "This is on the q. t. I examinedthe handcuffs, and there were three sets of prints on them, showing thatthree different persons had handled them. There were only two or threemarks of each set, but enough to identify them. One set was Dan theDope's, the other must have been Pinto's, and the third was the GrayPhantom's."
The Phantom bit his lip, chiding himself for having been caught off hisguard. He might have known that the smooth and shiny surface of thehandcuffs would register finger prints, but he had been bodily andmentally exhausted at the time, and his habitual sense of caution hadfailed to assert itself.
"Wonder what the Phantom was up to," he murmured, feeling a trifleuncomfortable beneath Culligore's covert and incessant scrutiny.
"Hard telling. Lots of queer things happen in this world." Culligoregrinned while absently toying with the pistol. "For instance, thismorning after I left you on the corner----"
"You had me shadowed," interrupted the Phantom. "What was the idea,Culligore?"
"Just a hunch. My man trailed you to the _Sphere_ office. Then, thinkingyou wouldn't be out for a while, he went into a beanery for a bite and acup of coffee. After coming out he hung around the entrance to the_Sphere_ Building for a while longer, but you didn't show up. Finally,he went inside and inquired for you. They told him you had left."
Culligore paused for a moment. He was turning the pistol in his handwith a playful air. The Phantom felt a curious tension taking hold ofhis body.
"They told my man," continued the lieutenant, speaking very softly,"that you didn't write the story yourself, but told the facts to areporter named Fessenden. As I understand it, they gave Fessenden a newdesk not long ago. It's a nice-looking piece of furniture, with asmooth, glossy finish. Maybe you noticed it?"
"No, not particularly," said the Phantom, finding it a little hard tokeep his voice steady. The role he was playing had claimed all histhoughts while he was in the _Sphere_ office, and he had not noticeddetails.
"Too bad you didn't." Culligore was still speaking in low, purringaccents. Gradually and wit
hout apparent intent, he turned the muzzle ofthe pistol until it pointed to the Phantom's chest. "Well, I understandFessenden was sitting at that nice, new desk while you told him thestory, and you were sitting right beside him, with one of the corners ofthe desk toward you. Some people have a habit when nervous of drummingwith their fingers on whatever object is before them. It's a bad habit,Granger."
The Phantom nodded. A thin smile played about his lips and his eyesglittered like tiny points of steel between half-closed lids.
"Very bad habit, Granger. Well, my man saw finger prints on the smoothand shiny surface of the desk, right where you had been sitting. Hetouched them up by sprinkling a little gray powder over them, afterwhich they were photographed. It didn't take very long to identify them.Steady now! This little toy of mine can be real ugly when it gets mad.What I want you to explain is how Tommie Granger's fingers happened toleave the Gray Phantom's finger prints on Fessenden's desk."