The Gray Phantom's Return

  CHAPTER VIII--LOGIC VERSUS HEART THROBS

  A vague misgiving assailed the Phantom as the door closed. The hidingplace chosen for them by the genial Doctor Bimble seemed not quiteadequate to the emergency. There had been no time for argument, however,and nothing for the Phantom to do but follow instructions. The versatileanthropologist knew best, he had thought, and very likely the policewould take Bimble's word for it that nobody was concealed in thelaboratory.

  The closet was so dark that, but for a faint fragrance and theoccasional scraping of a foot, he might have thought himself alone. Fromthe other side of the door came subdued sounds, and he pictured thetubby little doctor protesting against the intrusion on his sacredprivacy. Of Helen he could see nothing but the pallid glint of her facein the gloom, but her quick, nervous breathing told him that she waskeyed up to a high tension. There was a medley of questions in his mind,but he found it hard to put them into words.

  "Hel--Miss Hardwick," he whispered.

  "Yes?".

  "Logic is silly rot."

  A moment's pause. "I don't believe I understand."

  "According to the learned doctor's logic, I am the murderer of SylvanusGage. He made out quite a convincing case, and I could see you wereimpressed. Yet, deep down in your heart, you know he was talking piffle.You don't believe I killed Gage."

  She stood silent for a time. He pressed closer to the wall and fumbledfor her hand. It was cold, and the pulsations at the wrist made himthink of a frightened, fluttering bird.

  "I wish I could believe you didn't," she murmured, freeing her hand.

  "Thank you." Her candor had given him a little thrill of faint andindefinable hope. "Would it surprise you very much if I told you that myonly reason for leaving Sea-Glimpse was to convince you of myinnocence?"

  "Convince _me_?" She gave a low, incredulous laugh. "Why?"

  "I'm not sure I can tell you that. From a practical point of view it wasa foolish move, wasn't it? By the way, you knew that the police werehunting high and low for me. You alone knew where I was to be found, andyet you didn't tell. I wonder why."

  She meditated for a little; then, in a whisper: "I don't know."

  He laughed softly. "It seems neither one of us is very practical. Wedon't understand our own motives. Can you tell me what you are doing inthis gallery of skeletons?"

  "I am not sure, but I will try. The morning after the murder of Gage, Iread the accounts in all the papers. I can't tell you how I felt. It wasas if a great illusion had been shattered. I remember how I cried oneday when I fell and broke my first doll. My feelings after reading thepapers were something like that, only more poignant."

  "I understand," he murmured. "You had placed the Gray Phantom on apedestal. When he fell and broke to bits, just like common clay, youwere disappointed."

  "Yes, it was something like that. I had placed your better self on apedestal. I didn't want to believe it had fallen or that it was justcommon clay. I read the papers very carefully; hoping to find a weakpoint in the evidence against you, but it seemed complete and conclusivedown to the tiniest detail. One of the articles puzzled me a little,though."

  "Oh--the _Sphere's_! Yes, I noticed it, too."

  "It read as though the writer were not quite sure that you were theguilty one. After thinking it over for a while I called up the _Sphere_and asked for the reporter who had written the article. They had somelittle trouble finding him, and when he finally came to the 'phone heacted as if he were not quite sober. I tried to question him about thecase, but he gruffly told me he had nothing to tell aside from what hehad put into his story. If I had a personal interest in the matter, hesaid, the best thing I could do was go and consult Doctor Bimble."

  "And you adopted the suggestion?"

  "I had never heard of Doctor Bimble, but the reporter told me he was thecleverest investigator of criminal cases in town. He warned me thatDoctor Bimble might refuse to help me, since he accepted nothing butcases of unusual interest, but the fact that the murdered man was afriend and neighbor might make a difference. Yesterday I called on thedoctor, but at first he would talk of nothing but his skeletons. Themurder didn't seem to interest him in the least. He said the Phantom'sguilt was clear and that all that remained was to catch him. Then, whenhe saw how earnest I was, he told me about the tunnel."

  "The doctor is a queer duck," murmured the Phantom musingly. "Theordinary man wouldn't take strangers into his confidence about suchthings. The eccentricity of genius, I suppose."

  "The whole affair seemed to bore him immensely. He told me the man whokilled Gage must have used the tunnel, since he could not have left theroom any other way. He thought it possible the murderer was still hidingthere, lying low until the excitement should die down, and if I didn'thave anything better to do I might watch for him at this end. As forhimself, he said he wasn't at all concerned in the apprehension andpunishment of criminals, but he gave me his revolver and told me I mightwatch the door leading from the laboratory, since the murderer, if hewere still in the tunnel, had to come out that way. I think my interestin the case amused the doctor. I suspected he was chuckling at me mostof the time.

  "I watched the door till late last night, all the time hoping that, ifanyone came out of the tunnel, it would not be you. Shortly beforemidnight I persuaded the doctor to let his man take my place. You see,if the murderer proved to be anyone but you, I wanted him caught,because then your innocence would be established. Early this morning Iwent back to my post. When I heard steps on the stairs my heart stoodstill for a moment. As the door opened I felt like shrieking. Andthen----"

  She broke off with a gasp. From above came the sounds of footsteps anddoors slamming, indicating that the police were searching the upper partof the house.

  "And when you saw me," the Phantom put in, "you immediately jumped tothe conclusion that I was guilty. Well, I suppose it was good logic.What can I do or say to convince you that I didn't kill Gage?"

  "Nothing," she said, a hysterical catch in her throat. Of a sudden sheseemed cold and distant, as if realizing that in telling her story shehad betrayed too much of her feelings. "I fear there is nothing more tobe said."

  The Phantom drew a deep breath. "I don't blame you," he said gently."There are several black chapters in my past. But some day I'll prove toyou that I had nothing to do with this murder. I admit that just now theevidence weighs heavily against me. It is true there was something of afeud between me and Gage once upon a time and----"

  "And the threatening letter," she interrupted. "Why did you send it ifyou didn't mean to kill him?"

  "It was a forgery. I never wrote it."

  "Handwriting experts say you did."

  "I know." He remembered having read in the newspapers that three expertshad compared the letter with samples of his handwriting on file in thebureau of criminal identification, and that two of them had declaredthat the Phantom had written it. "That only goes to show that it was anexceptionally clever forgery, and experts have been known to differbefore."

  "But Gage told the officer that it was you who stabbed him." She spokeas if determined to hear his explanation of the damning bits of evidenceeven though every word hurt her.

  "True enough. But Gage didn't see me. He had the threatening letter inmind when he said that."

  "Nothing but the Maltese cross was missing, and you had had a quarrelwith Gage about that."

  "True, too." The Phantom chuckled bitterly. "If I had committed themurder I should have taken pains to carry away a lot of other things fora blind." She was silent for a few moments. Footsteps were coming downthe stairs, and the Phantom knew that the searchers would soon be in thelaboratory. Again he found her hand, but she quickly drew it away.

  "You knew about the tunnel," she reminded him, her shaky accentsbetraying the struggle going on within her.

  "I swear that I found it by accident."

  He could not see her face, but he sensed that she doubted him and thatthe remnant of faith in her heart was unable to withstand the corro
dingeffect of a growing suspicion. The footsteps were drawing closer, andnow they could hear voices outside the door. He recognized the raspingaccents of Doctor Bimble.

  "I tell you, my dear sir, that the closet contains nothing but chemicalswhich I use in my laboratory work. Some of them are very valuable.That's why I keep them under lock and key."

  Tensing every muscle as if preparing for an attack, the Phantom steppedin front of the girl. She made no protest as he took her pistol, whichshe had been holding all the time and which now hung limply from herfingers.

  "I don't doubt your word," answered a gruff voice outside, "but ordersare to search everywhere and make a good job of it. Hate to trouble you,but it's got to be done."

  The doctor, evidently sparring for time, insisted that he had been inhis laboratory all day and that nobody could have slipped into thecloset unnoticed by him; but the other was obdurate.

  "Very well, then," finally grumbled the anthropologist, "but I shallmake complaint to Inspector Wadham. Jerome, where are my keys?" Despitethe suspense under which he was laboring, the Phantom grinned. Hestrongly suspected that Bimble was working a ruse in order to gain time.Yet he wondered what the outcome was to be, for unless the keys werepromptly produced the officers would undoubtedly force the door.

  His next sensation was one of astonishment. A curious calm appeared tohave fallen over the group outside, for moment after moment passedwithout a word being spoken. The Phantom wondered what it could mean. Itseemed as though the speakers had been suddenly stricken dumb. Afterwhat seemed a long period of silence, somebody uttered an exclamation ofastonishment, then a laugh sounded, and next footsteps moved away fromthe closet door. A minute or so passed, then someone fumbled with thelock, and presently the door was opened by Doctor Bimble. He was smilingblandly, but the Phantom thought he detected an uneasy gleam behind thespectacles.

  "What's happened?" he inquired, looking about him dazedly and noticingthat the girl and himself were alone with the doctor.

  The anthropologist waved a hand toward the front of the house. "Listen!"

  From the streets came loud and raucous shouts, and a blank look crossedthe Phantom's face as he made out the words:

  "Uxtra! Gray Phantom capchured! All 'bout the big pinch! Uxtra!"