CHAPTER XXXI--AT BAY
The Phantom scarcely breathed. He stood utterly still while the doctorcame down the remaining steps and halted at the foot of the stairs. Thepistol, pointed at Helen with a steadiness that bespoke a deadly aim,inspired him with a sense of awe a thousand times greater than if it hadbeen leveled at himself.
The girl's hand was still on his sleeve, and, without looking directlyat her, he knew that she was facing the menacing pistol withoutflinching. Her slight touch on his arm gave him a feeling of tendernessand strength. Already his wits were at work. In his hip pocket was theweapon he had taken from Granger, but he could not reach for it withoutjeopardizing the girl's life.
"Cruel trick you played on Granger," observed the doctor, standing adozen feet away. "I don't know how you managed it, but you seem to havea special talent for such performances. Fortunately one of my menhappened to enter the room in which you left the poor fellow, and he sawhow things were. Well, Phantom, one thing is sure, you have played yourlast trick."
The Phantom maintained his attitude of immobility, but Bimble's wordshad given him an inward twinge. As far as he could see, the doctor hadappraised the situation with accuracy. The windows, with their shuttersand iron bars, seemed impregnable. The murky walls and the low ceilinggave forth an impression of solidity that accentuated his sense ofbafflement. The way to the stairs was barred by Bimble with his pistol,and the rooms and corridors above were swarming with the Duke's men. Andmeanwhile the Phantom dared not bend a muscle, for fear of causing HelenHardwick's death.
"You will admit that you are very neatly cornered?" taunted the doctor.
"It would seem so," admitted the Phantom dryly, "but I have beencornered many times before. There's nothing very original in thesituation."
"No, nothing except that you wriggled out of the others, while this onewill hold you till I am through with you. Don't you think it would bethe part of wisdom to submit and tell me what I want to know?"
"Never!" declared the Phantom with emphasis.
"Wouldn't it be better?" whispered Helen. "He'll kill us both unless wedo."
"It's his intention to kill us, anyway," the Phantom whispered back."The only reason he hasn't killed us already is that he hopes topersuade us to give him the information he wants. Afraid?"
"Not for myself. But you----"
"Then step behind my back as quickly as you can."
The girl looked up at him with an expression of uncertainty.
"Hurry!" whispered the Phantom. "It's our only chance."
She hesitated a moment longer; then, with the swift motion of a startleddoe, she darted aside and stood at his back. The blue steel of thepistol barrel flickered for an instant as the doctor transferred his aimto the Phantom. Evidently the sudden movement had disconcerted Bimble.
"A fairly clever maneuver," he acknowledged, "but you have gainednothing by it."
"I am satisfied," declared the Phantom, his spirits rising again. "Youcan't reach Miss Hardwick with a bullet without first perforating me,and you have no intention of killing me until you have learned what youwant to know. Eh, Bimble?"
The doctor's lips twisted into an ugly sneer. "We shall see," hemuttered irately. "You are a clever man, Phantom, but your clevernesscan't help you now."
He plucked a small metallic instrument from his vest pocket and broughtit to his lips. Three short, shrill whistles pierced the silence. With agratified grin on his lips the doctor restored the little metal tube tohis pocket. The third blast had no sooner sounded than a tumult ofdiscordant noises came from above. Bimble looked gloatingly at thePhantom as the sounds drew nearer. A man ran down the stairs, quicklyfollowed by a second and a third. Others kept arriving, in groups ofthree or more, until the Phantom had counted twenty-four.
Like a great human fan, the crowd spread out in a triangle along thewalls and about the foot of the stairs. As each man took his place inthe line, the Phantom gave him a quick appraising glance. In their faceshe read low cunning, brutish instincts, and stolid obedience to orders,but the keener wit and subtler intellect which the Phantom had alwaysdemanded of his men were lacking.
He read each face as if it were an open page, and finally his gazerested on Doctor Bimble. The anthropologist was a craftier man by farthan his subalterns, but at a glance the Phantom's keen eye picked outthe weak spot in his moral fiber. Already a plan was forming in hismind. All he was waiting for was a favorable combination ofcircumstances that would enable him to act.
The pistol in the doctor's hand was still pointing straight at thePhantom's chest. Bimble's expression was a repulsive mixture of crueltyand smug satisfaction.
"I trust you are convinced that resistance is useless, my dear Phantom,"he declared in drawling tones. "There are more than twenty of us, as yousee."
"Excellent!" remarked the Phantom. "I am glad to see so many of youhere."
"Glad?" The doctor seemed a little dumfounded. "Why, pray?"
"Because having you all here in this room will make my task mucheasier."
"Your task?"
The Phantom laughed easily. "You must surely know that it is myintention to hand you all over to the police?"
Bimble stared. Twice he opened his mouth, but no words came. ThePhantom's cool audacity seemed to have silenced his tongue.
"Are you crazy?" he asked at length.
"Never was saner in my life. It is my firm intention to turn every oneof you over to the police. That's why I am glad to see so many of yougathered in one room."
He smiled as he spoke, but his heart was not in his smile. He wasturning an audacious plan over in his mind, but he was not at all surethat he would have a chance to put it into execution. At his back heheard Helen's quick, nervous intakes of breath, and he turned his headslightly.
"The Gray Phantom's star has never yet set," he whispered.
A low, quavering laugh was the girl's response.
Bimble was still staring at him as if doubting his sanity. "_You_ thinkyou are going to turn _us_ over to the police!" he exclaimed. "Ha, ha!Still in a jocular mood, I see. It won't last long. For the last time Iask if you will accept my terms."
The Phantom sent him a contemptuous glance. "One doesn't make terms withsneaking hyenas like you," he declared.
"Very well." Bimble ran his eye over the triangle of faces, and his gazefell on a stout, tough-limbed man with a reddish face.
"Wilkes," he directed, "pull that devoted pair apart and carry the younglady to the room upstairs where the skeletons are. Be careful not to getin front of my pistol."
The stout man stepped out of the line. A coarse grin wreathed his faceas he approached the Phantom and the girl from the side.
"Get back!" whispered the Phantom to Helen. Slowly, step by step, thetwo moved backward until Helen stood against the wall. Then the Phantom,looking straight into the muzzle of Bimble's pistol, reached back andwound his arms around the girl's slender waist.
"Pull us apart if you can," he told Wilkes as he interlocked his fingersbehind Helen's back.
The stout man stopped and scratched his head, as if confronting aproblem too complex for his wits to solve. A look of diffidence crossedBimble's face as he noticed that the Phantom had once more balked him.
"Knock him down if you can't part them any other way," he commandedwrathfully. "Tap him on the head with something."
Chuckling, Wilkes drew a long revolver from his pocket, gripping ittightly by the barrel as he cautiously approached the Phantom from theside. Helen gasped.
"Keep cool!" whispered the Phantom. "And whatever happens, stay right atmy back."
He watched Bimble's pistol out of one eye, while with the other hefollowed Wilkes' movements. For an instant, as Wilkes swung the heavyweapon over his shoulder, he tensed his muscles for action. Then, with amotion so swift that the eyes of the onlookers could scarcely registerit, his arm darted out and gripped the other's wrist just as therevolver was about to crash down on the Phantom's head.
Once more his arm shot ou
t and with a quick and powerful wrench he swungWilkes directly in front of him, coiling the fingers of one hand aroundthe man's neck and windpipe. In almost the same instant he whipped outhis pistol and, using the bulky figure of Wilkes as a shield, took aimand fired.
Bimble uttered a sharp yell of pain. The pistol dropped from hisfingers, and he looked dazedly at his blood-spattered hand.
"Fairly good shot!" ejaculated the Phantom with a chuckle. At his backwas Helen, trembling with excitement, and in front of him stood Wilkes,spluttering and gasping for breath as a result of the Phantom's clutchat his throat.
The whole episode had been enacted within the space of a few seconds.The Phantom had acted so swiftly and taken them all so completely bysurprise that on one had had time to interfere. Now, before the menhuddled against the wall and in front of the stairs could gather theirwits, a powerful shove sent Wilkes sprawling headlong to the floor, andin another moment the Phantom had seized Helen's hand and made a rushfor Bimble.
He snatched up the pistol the doctor had dropped as the bullet struckhis wrist, and handed it to Helen.
"Shoot the first man who makes a move," he directed, "and shoot tokill!"
Helen looked into his cool, determined eyes, flashing with the ecstasyof combat. With a faint audacious smile on her lips, she drew herself upand handling the weapon with the sure touch of an expert, faced thestaring and muttering crowd. For a few moments the men stood immobile,as if the swift succession of events had cast a numbing spell over theirbodies and minds; then, with ominous grumblings and curses, a few of themore daring ones started forward.
In the meantime the Phantom had jabbed his pistol against Bimble's bodywith a force that brought a sickly groan from the doctor's lips. Heglanced aside out of the corner of an eye as a crack and a gleam of fireissued from Helen's weapon. A bullet in the fleshy part of the hip hadchecked a furtive movement on the part of one of the gang, and instantlythe others, impressed by the girl's exhibition of marksmanship, fellback.
The Phantom nodded approvingly. His glittering eyes and a smile on hislips gave no hint of what he felt.
"Let me warn you that Miss Hardwick is an expert," he remarked coolly."She once got a perfect bull's-eye at six hundred yards."
The men looked at the girl, then at their ashen-faced and quaveringleader. The Phantom pushed the pistol a little harder against thedoctor's body.
"If anyone raises a hand against Miss Hardwick, you die instantly," hedeclared sharply. "I could kill you with no more compunction than if Iwere killing a rat."
The doctor gulped, and for the moment all his cunning seemed to havedeserted him.
"Anyone who cares to fire a bullet at me is welcome to do so," thePhantom went on, speaking in quick accents that sounded like theclinking of metal. "My index finger, you will notice, is on the trigger.The slightest pressure will send a chunk of lead into your vitals. If Idie, the muscular contraction that always accompanies sudden and violentdeath would be very likely to snap the trigger. You get the idea, Ihope?"
It was evident that Bimble did. His absurdly thin legs wabbled as if hewere in the grip of a great terror and the spasmodic twitching of hisfingers indicated that this was a situation against which his habitualcraftiness was helpless.
Helen stood at the Phantom's side, sweeping the crowd with cool, alerteyes, and holding the pistol in readiness for instant action. Her slimfigure was erect, and there was a proud tilt to her head, as if thecontagion of the Phantom's fighting spirit had gripped her. Again therewere surly mutterings among the men, but with rare exceptions they wereof the type that is impotent without a leader to urge them on.
Not a word came from Bimble's lips, but there was a look in his eyewhich told that the tentacles of his mind were reaching for a solutionof the difficulty. The Phantom, keeping one eye on the doctor and theother on the crowd, detected a stealthy movement in the rear of thegroup. Someone had dropped to his knees and was crawling toward a hugebox.
Instantly the Phantom saw the meaning of the stealthy movement. For amoment, as the crawling figure appeared around the edge of the group, heturned his pistol from the doctor, took a quick aim, pressed thetrigger, and again thrust the muzzle of his weapon against Bimble'sdiaphragm.
A cry told that the bullet had found its mark. As the smoke driftedtoward the ceiling, the man rose to his feet with a look of distress inhis face, caressing a portion of his arm as he slunk away toward therear. A few of the others, who had sought to take advantage of thePhantom's temporary abstraction, fell back to their places.
The Phantom drew a long breath as he realized how narrowly Helen andhimself had escaped disaster. They had the advantage for the present,but the slightest faltering might easily reverse the situation andrelease the pent-up savagery of their foes.
"Bimble," he remarked, "it would be extremely unfortunate for you if anyof your men should get reckless. I see some of them are impatient. Ifanything happens to Miss Hardwick or me, you will be a dead man. Hadn'tyou better tell your friends to throw down their guns?"
The doctor glanced uneasily at his men. His looks told plainly that thePhantom had read him accurately, that there was nothing he valued quiteso highly as he did his life, and that his swagger and bland assurancewould wilt the moment he faced a personal danger. There was venom in hiseyes, and his pale, distorted features bespoke impotent rage.
"Drop your guns," he commanded after another despairing look about thebasement.
The men regarded him diffidently and did not move. Their faces showedthat they were torn between the conflicting impulses ofself-preservation and an ingrained habit of obedience.
"You're first." The Phantom pointed a finger at a tall, barrel-chestedman at the end of the line. "Step forward and empty your pockets."
The Phantom was in a state of high tension. He was exercising a masteryof mind over the situation, but all might yet be lost if the man shouldrefuse to obey and set the others an example of resistance.
"Miss Hardwick," he said quickly, realizing that each moment of delaymight cost them their lives, "you will count five. If our friend at theend of the line has not emptied his pockets when you are through, shootto kill."
The girl signified with a slight nod that she understood. As she beganto count, her pistol was pointing straight at the man the Phantom hadindicated. The fellow's sullen obstinacy yielded gradually to anover-powering respect for Helen's marksmanship, of which he had alreadywitnessed an exhibition. Just before she reached "five," he lumberedforward and turned the lining of his pockets inside out. A knife, anautomatic, and several other implements clattered to the floor.
"Now get back in the corner," commanded the Phantom pointing. Hethrilled at the thought that the crisis was past and the victory almostwon.
The second man hesitated only for an instant before he followed theexample of the first. After that the process of disarming the gang wenton swiftly and without interruptions. Man after man stepped out of theline, emptied his pockets, and joined the others in the corner. When thelast man had divested himself of his belongings there was a small pileof oddly assorted articles in the middle of the floor.
The Phantom felt a little dazed, now that the tremendous tension wasover. At last he lowered the pistol and turned to the girl. Her face waspale and a little haggard but a smile of triumph hovered about her lips.
"You're the grandest little woman I ever knew," he declared feelingly.
"Oh, I don't know," she confessed a little wearily. "I don't think Icould have stood it if you hadn't been so close to me. I felt as thoughyou were holding me under a spell all the time."
The Phantom laughed. "Bimble, you have seen how one man, with theassistance of a plucky little woman, has vanquished a gang oftwenty-five cutthroats and ruffians. The yellow streak in you made itfairly easy. I should like to see the Duke's face when he hears aboutthis."
The doctor swallowed hard. His putty-hued face reflected the depths ofmental agony.
"What--what are you going to do with us?" he inquire
d weakly.
"Precisely what I said I would do--hand you over to the police."
"Not that!" The doctor looked as though he had received a blow. "Listen!Down below, in the cellar, are several million dollars' worth ofvaluables. You can have it all if you will let us go."
"You're a rather poor sort, Bimble," said the Phantom contemptuously."There isn't gold enough in the world to buy your freedom. To see youget your just deserts is worth more to me than all the millions the Dukeand his gang ever stole."
The doctor staggered back against the wall, utterly dejected. Of asudden the Phantom's expression of elation faded out and a worried looktook its place. Where was Granger? The reporter had not been among thosewho had answered the doctor's summons, and the Phantom had seen nothingof him since he left him chained to the wall in one of the upper rooms.Without doubt he had been released, for Bimble had said that a member ofthe gang had entered the room and found him shortly after the Phantomhad started for the basement. His absence was somewhat disturbing, forthe Phantom's task would not be finished until Granger had been caught.
Admonishing Miss Hardwick to keep an eye on the gang, he walked towardthe farther wall. In the corner was a door which he had not seen before.It was locked, but he guessed that it led to the cellar in which thedoctor kept the gang's treasures, and he noted that it was of hard andsolid material and would resist almost any amount of pressure.
"Doctor," he said, walking back to where Bimble stood, "I'll trouble youfor your bunch of keys."
With an air of a broken and defeated man, Bimble complied, and thePhantom made sure that one of the keys fitted the lock on the doorleading to the cellar. Keeping one eye on the gang, he gathered theweapons they had discarded and placed them on the cellar stairs. Then hecarefully locked the door and put the keys in his pocket. MotioningHelen to precede him, he backed up the stairs, covering the huddled anddejected group with his pistol till he reached the top. Here was anotherdoor, almost as substantial as the one communicating with the cellar.They stepped through, and the Phantom closed it and turned a key in thelock.
"Our precious friends are trapped," he remarked with a chuckle. "I'llwager they won't get out of that basement till the police drag them out.Now we must find Granger."
Passing swiftly down the hall, they opened one door after another,glancing quickly into each room before proceeding to the next. Finally,on the floor above, they reached a door through which faint sounds came.For an instant the Phantom listened, then jerked the door open andentered. Taking in the scene at a glance, he drew his pistol.
"Hands up, Granger!" he commanded.
CHAPTER XXXII--THE OUTLAW
The reporter's flushed face and the bottle at his elbow showed that hehad been drinking. As the Phantom's sharp command rang out, his nervousfingers dropped the revolver which he had been pointing at a lanky,dull-faced figure standing against the wall.
"Culligore!" exclaimed the Phantom, "How did you get here?"
The lieutenant smiled. "Oh, I've been in this house for some littletime--ever since that confounded 'doc' shot me in the leg. He put me tobed and tied some ropes around me. How I got loose is a long story. Iguess the 'doc' would have taken a little more pains with the ropes ifhe had known that the wound in my leg wasn't so bad as I let on it was.I was strolling around a bit and finally I bumped into our friendGranger here. He's a real hospitable guy. Handed me a drink with onehand and flashed a gat on me with the other."
Granger, blinking his heavy eyes and staring blankly at the twointruders, leaned back against his chair. Evidently the weapon in thePhantom's hand convinced him that the game was up, for he made no moveto recover the pistol he had dropped.
"He felt so sure I wouldn't get away from him alive that he told me thewhole story," Culligore went on. "Of course, I had pieced together mostof it already from the scraps of fact I had. I've had my suspicionsabout Granger ever since the department turned him loose. I thought thatwas a big mistake, but I didn't have any evidence until just the otherday. Then I searched his room, and what do you suppose I found?"
"What?" asked the Phantom and Helen in unison.
Culligore laughed softly. "It's queer how clever rascals like Grangeralways make some childish blunder. He didn't have sense enough to throwaway the Maltese cross--that bit of phony jade that the murderer tookfrom Gage's desk--but hid it in the false bottom of his trunk. Well, Iguess that alone will give him a start toward the electric chair, thoughit isn't the only piece of evidence I have against him."
"Then, Culligore," asked the Phantom, "I suppose you're convinced I hadnothing to do with the murders?"
The lieutenant grinned. "Well, you sized me up about right while we werestalling each other in the basement. From the first I didn't want tobelieve you were mixed up in the dirty deal. I had a sort of bet withmyself that the Gray Phantom would always play the game according to thecode. Anyhow, it wasn't long before I began to suspect that the wholething was a frame-up. Granger has just told me all about it. Seemedproud of his achievement. The Duke had mapped out a nifty plan forBimble to work on. None of the flossy details were omitted. Gage was tobe murdered and you were to be the goat. If possible, the man put on thejob was to be someone resembling you, so that if he were seen on or nearthe scene of the crime the evidence against the Gray Phantom would bestrengthened.
"I guess you know what a thoroughgoing bunch the Duke's men are. Theycombed the country till they found a man looking like you. Grangerseemed to fit the specifications, and they offered him a big bunch ofmoney if he would do their dirty work. Granger tells me he has alwayshad his eye on the main chance, that he was sick and tired of thenewspaper grind, and was ready to do almost anything to get out of it. Isuppose his conscience troubled him a bit, but the Duke's gang gave himall the whisky he wanted, for they knew he had the knack of keeping hismouth shut even when he was drunk, and liquor is a pretty good antidotefor a troublesome conscience.
"The threatening letter was forged, of course. The job was done by oneof the cleverest forgers in the world, a member of the Duke'sorganization. After the murder----"
"Not quite so fast," interrupted the Phantom. "How did Granger get intoGage's bedroom?"
"Through the tunnel connecting with Bimble's residence."
The Phantom looked puzzled. "But I satisfied myself that the revolvingframe could not be manipulated from the outside."
"It wasn't," said Culligore. "Gage himself admitted his murderer. Itwasn't the first time that he had received a visit from one of the gangthat way, and he did not know that the organization had condemned him todeath. So when Granger gave the customary signal, Gage thought somebodywho didn't care to be seen was bringing him an important message."
"I might have guessed it," murmured the Phantom. "Evidently I was notcut out for a detective. Granger, of course, made his escape through thetunnel after committing the murder?"
"He did, and that's what made the crime look so mysterious. It was partof the plan, for it convinced everybody that no one but the Phantomcould have committed it. But Granger had no sooner committed the murderthan he began to be nervous. Somehow he got it into his head that thehousekeeper was wise to him. Maybe she was; we will never know that forsure, though I have a private hunch that Mrs. Trippe had guessed thetruth. Anyhow, Granger decided that he wouldn't be safe unless thehousekeeper was put out of the way. He locked her up in the bedroom;then went out for a drink. He was bent on murder, and he needed a bracerfor his nerves. When he came back----"
"In the meantime," interrupted the Phantom, "Mrs. Trippe tried to escapeby way of the revolving window frame. Probably she knew there was ahidden exit somewhere in the room. At any rate, she had discovered howto open it just before Granger returned. I was in the aperture in thewall and saw the murderer's hand as he drove the knife into her body.Granger either knew or guessed that I was there. He did not see me, buthe heard the housekeeper addressing someone just before the blow wasstruck, and he probably surmised who it was. To make sure I wouldn't gethim into tro
uble, he ran around to the Bimble residence and blocked theother end of the tunnel. But there is one thing I don't understand. Howdid it come about that Granger was suspected of treachery?"
"You have just told us that he tried to kill you," said Culligore."Well, that was the reason. The doc had given strict orders that youwere to be taken alive and were not to be killed under anycircumstances. Granger violated those orders when he tried to smotheryou to death in the tunnel. Shortly after that he disappeared, and thatmade it look all the worse for him. The 'doc' didn't know that you hadkidnaped him. All he knew was that Granger had vamoosed, and he thoughthe was doing the gang dirt and pulling some kind of treacherous stuff."
"That explains the note Dan the Dope handed me," observed the Phantom."Everything is clear except Pinto's part in the affair. His statementcleared up a good many things, but not all. For instance, he wasstartled when I showed him the ducal coronet. Tell me," and the Phantomlowered his voice as a new thought occurred to him, "is, or was, Pinto amember of the Duke's crowd?"
"Not exactly." Culligore spoke with a hesitant drawl. "I'll tell yousomething if you promise to let it go in one ear and out the other. Forsome time I've had a private tip to the effect that the Duke's outfitwanted someone on the inside of the police department. They made Pinto apretty attractive offer, and Pinto nibbled at the bait. He might haveswallowed it if the Gage murder hadn't happened along."
"No wonder he acted so shaky," murmured the Phantom. "Well, I am gladthe ugly mess has been disposed of. The wily old Peng Yuen must have hadan inkling of the truth when he quoted something to me from one of theChinese philosophers. I didn't get his meaning then, but I do now.Anyway," with a soft laugh, "the bloodstain has been washed from theGray Phantom's name. There will never----"
Granger, who had been leaning back against his chair as if in a drunkenstupor, made a sudden movement. The Phantom was about to interfere, butthe reporter was only pouring himself a drink from the bottle. He roseunsteadily and held the glass aloft.
"It was fun while it lasted," he declared thickly. "I'm going to haveone more drink--just one. Here goes!"
He gulped down the contents of the glass, swayed for an instant andregarded the others with an odd expression. Then, before either of themcould interfere, he picked up the pistol he had dropped upon thePhantom's entrance.
A crack sounded. Helen uttered a sharp cry, and Culligore limped towardthe reporter's chair just as Granger went staggering to the floor.
"Killed himself!" muttered the lieutenant. "Shot himself through theheart. Well, that's one way of dodging the electric chair."
Helen shuddered convulsively and the Phantom led her gently toward thedoor. He drew the doctor's keys from his pockets and tossed them toCulligore.
"I forgot to tell you," he remarked in casual tones, "that Bimble andhis gang are locked up in the basement. Miss Hardwick and I rounded themup and took their guns away from them while you and Granger werediscussing the crime. I understand, too, that there's a large amount ofswag salted in the cellar. It will be quite an important catch for you,Culligore, and ought to help toward promotion for you."
The lieutenant stared.
"Well, I'll be hanged!" he muttered at last.
The Phantom smiled. "I believe there are several outstanding chargesagainst myself," he observed. "To arrest the Gray Phantom would bealmost as big an achievement as the rounding up of the Duke's gang."
Culligore seemed to hesitate. "Well," with a broad grin, "I suppose Iought to pinch you, but my leg still hurts a bit and you can run a lotfaster than I can. Anyhow, I'll get plenty of credit as it is. You twomight as well go away. I'll wait ten minutes before I telephoneheadquarters."
"Thanks, Culligore."
He gripped the lieutenant's hand and held it while each man looked theother in the eye. Then he turned and led Helen from the room. In alittle while they were out on the street, and her face brightened as themorning breeze fanned it. The Phantom hailed a passing taxicab.
For a time they sat silent, and there was a touch of reverence in thePhantom's attitude as he gazed at the girl.
"Helen!" he whispered.
The soft brown eyes looked into his own.
"Gray Phantom!" she murmured.
He found her hand and held it. "It was a great adventure--the greatestof my life. Who would ever have dreamed that the Gray Phantom would goto such extremes to clear himself in the eyes of a girl?"
She looked up again, and there was a warm, misty radiance in her eyes.
"Did my opinion of you really matter as much as that?"
"Why, of course; it meant everything to me. And Helen----"
There was a choking sensation in his throat. He turned his head andlooked out through the window at a quiet street lined with brownstonefronts. He laughed sadly.
"I forgot for a moment that I am still a hunted man. I am still anoutlaw, and all officers are not as generous as Culligore. My past ishanging over me like a great black cloud. But perhaps some day----"
She smiled as he broke off. "Perhaps some day," she murmured, "the cloudwill roll away."
His fingers tightened convulsively about her hand; then he opened thedoor and called to the chauffeur. The cab swerved up to the curb andstopped.
"Good-by, Helen."
Her lips trembled and for a moment she could not speak.
"Au revoir--Gray Phantom!"
He drew a long, deep breath as the cab glided away. He watched it tillit was out of sight. There was a smile on his lips and his eyes held atender light.
"Farewell, Brown Eyes," he said, half aloud. "Wonder if we shall meetagain, and if--" He did not finish the thought, but smiled whimsically."I must hurry back and see what I can do with my gray orchid."
Then he swung down a side street and walked briskly away, lookingfurtively to right and left with the habitual caution of hunted men.
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