The Gray Phantom's Return

  CHAPTER IX--THE PHANTOM IS MYSTIFIED

  For a time the little group in the laboratory stood as if turned intoinanimate shapes, their senses under the spell of the hoarse shouts inthe street. The Phantom felt a curious churning in his head. Theanthropologist was still smiling, but the smile was gradually growingthin and hard. Helen fixed the Phantom with a stony look.

  "It appears a mistake of some kind has been made," muttered the doctorat length. "It was a fortunate one for you, my friends, for the officerswere becoming quite insistent. Luckily the cries diverted theirattention from the closet, and they went away apologizing aftertelephoning headquarters and verifying the report."

  The Phantom, still feeling Helen's gaze on his face, pocketed the pistolhe had been holding. The newsboys' cries had given him a jolt that lefthim a little dazed and caused his mind to turn to trivial things. Hefound himself admiring Helen's simple little hat and plain but tastefuldress, noticing that they seemed as much a part of her as her hair andher complexion. He saw that she tried to be brave despite a crushingdisaster to her illusions, and somehow he felt sorry for her.

  Doctor Bimble turned on him with a frown.

  "Sir," he demanded, "are you the Gray Phantom or merely a clumsyimpostor?"

  The question seemed so ludicrous that the Phantom could only chuckle.

  "It has long been my desire to meet the Gray Phantom," pursued thedoctor, still scowling darkly. "I should dislike to think I have beenimposed upon. But that can't be, unless"--with another suspiciouslook--"you are acting as a foil for the Phantom. Well, we shall seepresently, I suppose. In the meantime, you may consider yourself at homeunder my roof."

  Without knowing why, the Phantom hesitated before accepting theinvitation. To take advantage of the doctor's hospitality was clearlythe proper thing to do. In a little while the police would learn theyhad blundered, and then the man hunt would be resumed with redoubledvigor. To venture forth on the streets after that would be little shortof madness. The Phantom, conquering his misgivings--which, after all,were nothing more than a vague doubt in regard to the doctor--murmuredhis appreciation.

  Bimble's manservant, a lanky, thin-faced individual with a gloomyexpression and wary eye, entered with a copy of the extras. The Phantomgave him a quick and keenly searching glance, and again he feltstrangely bewildered. The man looked innocent enough, and it was nothingbut an intangible something in his gait and his manner of carryinghimself that caused the Phantom to look twice.

  Doctor Bimble took the damp sheet, still redolent of ink, and read aloudthe triple-leaded article under the scare head. During the perusal Helenregarded him with strange, expressionless eyes, while now and then theservant shot the Phantom a stealthy glance which the latter found hardto interpret.

  Evidently the extra had been hurriedly prepared, for the articlecontained only a few pithy facts. It seemed that the Phantom, with anaudacity and a recklessness characteristic of him, had for someunaccountable purpose visited the East Houston Street establishment inwhich the murder of Sylvanus Gage had been perpetrated. Wearing no otherdisguise than a black beard, which he had evidently grown since his lastappearance in public, he had approached the housekeeper, introducedhimself as Mr. Adair, of Boston, a criminal investigator, and requestedto inspect the scene of the murder. The unsuspecting housekeeper hadadmitted him, little guessing that her visitor was one of the mostcelebrated criminals of the age.

  The Gray Phantom had been in the room only a few minutes when OfficerJoshua Pinto appeared on the scene. With laudable perspicacity theofficer recognized the Phantom almost immediately, despite thedisguising beard, and by clever maneuvering managed to lock him in theroom, standing guard outside the door while the housekeeper telephonedheadquarters. In a few moments an impenetrable cordon had been thrownaround the house, and the capture of the Phantom seemed an absolutecertainty. Yet, when the door was battered down, the astonished officerssaw that the room was empty and that the notorious rogue had achievedanother of his miraculous escapes.

  Apparently, so the article stated, the Phantom had accomplished theimpossible, but then the Phantom's entire career had been a series ofincredible accomplishments. How he had managed to leave the room andelude the cordon of police would probably remain a mystery foreverunless the criminal himself should divulge the secret. His capture,which had taken place while the police were making a systematic searchof the houses in the block, had been due to one of the strangeaberrations which seize even the astutest criminals. A brawl hadoccurred in a "blind pig" in Bleecker Street, and the commotion hadattracted the attention of a passing sergeant. After sending in a hurrycall for help the sergeant had raided the place, and among the prisonerstaken was one who was almost instantly recognized as the Gray Phantom.The identification was rendered all the easier by the fact that he hadremoved his beard after making his sensational escape from the EastHouston Street establishment. The belief was expressed that the prisonerwould be induced to make a statement as soon as he had recovered fromthe effects of the raw whiskey he had consumed in the dive, presumablyin celebration of his latest coup.

  "Rot!" ejaculated the doctor, throwing the paper down with a gesture ofdisgust. "A fool would know that a man of the Gray Phantom'stemperament, whatever other folly he might commit, would not getintoxicated at a critical moment like this. This proves--But what'sbecome of Miss Hardwick?"

  The Phantom looked up with a start. The girl was gone. Evidently she hadtaken advantage of the other's absorption in the newspaper article toslip out unnoticed. Jerome, a crestfallen look on his long face, hastilyleft the laboratory, returning in a few moments with the report thatMiss Hardwick was nowhere in sight. The Phantom imagined that there wasan expression of sharp reproach in the doctor's eyes as they rested onthe servant, but the impression was fleeting.

  "The young lady has probably gone home," ventured the anthropologist."She must have been tired, and in a measure her task was accomplished.The question is, can you rely on her not to communicate what she knowsto the police?"

  The Phantom looked a trifle doubtful. He had perceived that the impulsesof her heart had been swamped by logic. It was possible she had goneaway hating him, firmly convinced he was a murderer, and in that eventher sense of duty might easily overcome everything else.

  "Frankly, I don't know," he declared. "At any rate, I am about as safehere as anywhere for the present. I should like a bath, if I may presumeon your hospitality."

  "By all means. And as soon as you have rested a bit we shall dine. Dearme, it is almost nine o'clock! Jerome!"

  He instructed the servant, and the Phantom followed the silent andsoft-footed man to the bathroom. As he splashed about in the tub, hetried to forget the bitter ache which Helen's words had left in hisheart. Her frigid attitude and her abrupt going away had merelystrengthened his determination to convince her of his innocence. He sawthat he must act quickly and take advantage of the comparative securitywhich he could enjoy until the police discovered that they had arrestedthe wrong man.

  His mind was at work on a plan while he hurried into his clothes, whichJerome had brushed and pressed while he was in the tub. A question thattroubled him greatly was how far he could safely take Bimble into hisconfidence. The sharp-witted anthropologist, with his keen insight intohuman nature, would prove a valuable ally, but the Phantom felt a greatdeal of mystification in his presence. There was something about the manwhich his senses could not quite grasp. Likely as not, it was only thescientific temperament, which gave him an appearance of secretivenessand dissimulation, but of this the Phantom could not be sure.

  The dinner, which he ate in the doctor's company, was excellent, andJerome served them in a faultless manner, proving that theanthropologist's devotion to his science had not blunted his taste forphysical comforts. The host discoursed learnedly and brilliantly onLucchini's theory in regard to the responsibility of the criminal, andit was not until the servant had withdrawn and they had reached theircoffee and cigars that he mentioned the subject on the Phantom's mind
.

  The dining room, furnished with an approach to elegance that one wouldscarcely have expected to find on such a shabby street, was lighted by aheavily shaded electrolier. The lights and shadows playing acrossBimble's face as he gesticulated with his head gave him an added touchof mystery and accentuated the general air of inscrutability thathovered about his person. He broached the subject of Gage's death whilelighting his cigar.

  "Come now, Vanardy, let us be confidential. It was you who murderedGage. Why deny it?"

  Smiling faintly, the Phantom shook his head.

  Bimble regarded him curiously. "The only thing about the crime thatinterests me is your denial. But I think I understand. In some criminalsthere is an aesthetic sense which revolts against the vulgar and sordid.Having, on the impulse of the moment, committed a sordid crime, youraesthetic sense reasserts itself, and you want to forget the ugly affairas quickly as possible. Am I right?"

  The Phantom laughed. "You clothe the thing in such attractive phrasingthat I almost wish I could plead guilty. But I didn't kill Gage, andthat's all there is to it."

  "You still insist that Pinto did?"

  "Until two or three hours ago I was firmly convinced of it."

  "Ah! Now we are getting down to facts. Until two or three hours ago youwere certain Pinto was the murderer. Why?"

  "Because at the time I felt sure that no one else could have committedthe crime. The mysterious circumstances could be explained in no otherway than on the assumption that Pinto was the perpetrator."

  "Exactly. Your logic was not at all bad. But I infer that within thelast three hours you have changed your mind."

  "Not quite; I have merely modified my opinion. I am no longer positivelycertain that Pinto committed the murder."

  "Why?" A shrewd grin twisted the anthropologist's lips. "What has causedyou to modify your view--the tunnel?"

  "Yes, the tunnel. The existence of the tunnel makes it possible forsomeone other than Pinto to have committed the murder. It suggestsanother hypothesis, in the light of which all the circumstances areexplainable. Without the tunnel I should be morally certain of Pinto'sguilt; with it in existence I am no longer sure."

  "Bravo, my friend! You are doing very well for an amateur detective.Your idea is that the murderer entered Gage's bedchamber by way of thetunnel and took his departure the same way. Do you know," with a broadgrin, "that I thoroughly agree with you? The only point of differencebetween us is the identity of the human mole."

  The Phantom's face darkened a trifle. "I advanced the idea only as ahypothesis," he declared a little testily, "and as yet I am not at allsure that it has any value. For instance, in order to reach Gage'sbedroom by way of the tunnel, the murderer had to go through your houseand get down in the cellar."

  "Which could easily be done. Both Jerome and myself are sound sleepersand the house has no burglar protection."

  "But that isn't all. After traversing the tunnel, the murderer had toenter the bedroom. In order to do so he had to work the mechanism whichcontrols the revolving window frame. From the inside of the chamber itis worked by the nail. Can it be manipulated from the outside as well?"

  "Dear me!" exclaimed the doctor, almost jumping out of the chair. "Inever thought of that."

  The Phantom eyed him keenly, though he seemed wholly absorbed incontemplation of the salt shaker. The exclamation, he thought, had notsounded quite natural.

  "You invented the contraption," he pointed out. "Surely you ought toknow whether the mechanism can be worked by a man approaching the roomby way of the tunnel."

  "So I thought. An inventor ought to know the children of his brain." Hegave a forced chuckle, as if fencing for time in which to frame ananswer. "The fact of the matter is that the contrivance was intended tobe an emergency exit and nothing else. The spring by which the mechanismis operated can't be reached by a man approaching the room by way of thetunnel. But that," with a grin which wrinkled his whole face, "does notexclude the possibility of a man getting through by the use of force.For instance, the frame could be budged by prying."

  "Perhaps. As matters stand, the whole question hinges on whether theroom can be entered from the tunnel. If it can't, then it is certainthat Pinto committed the murder. If it can, there is a possibility thatsomeone else did it, though the preponderance of evidence still pointsin Pinto's direction, for it is extremely unlikely that the murderer wasaware of the existence of the tunnel. However----"

  He checked himself, deciding to let the thought remain unspoken. Theanthropologist, having recovered from his temporary embarrassment, gavea hearty laugh.

  "You are incorrigible, my friend. You are willing to admit almost anytheory but the plain and obvious one, which is that the Gray Phantomcommitted the murder. Reminds me of Pinel's excellent treatise on thepsychology of the criminal. But you must be tired. Please excuse mewhile I make a telephone call."

  The Phantom regarded him narrowly as he trundled from the room andclosed the door behind him. The doctor intrigued and baffled him. He wasalmost certain that Bimble had been guilty of equivocation in regard tothe tunnel and the revolving frame. On the other hand, this and otherpeculiarities might be due to an erratic temperament. His stubborninsistence on the Phantom's guilt could be the result of mental lazinessand a disinclination to exert himself over a case which did not interesthim. Yet, after making all due allowances, the Phantom could not feelwholly at ease.

  The doctor, smiling placidly and without a sign of guile in his face,interrupted his reflections.

  "I've just had my friend Inspector Wadhane on the wire," he announced."It has been decided to let the prisoner sleep off the effects of hisdebauch. He will not be questioned until along toward morning. So, myfriend, you can sleep in peace. Shall I show you to your room?"

  The Phantom, blinking his eyes drowsily, expressed a desire to retire atonce. Doctor Bimble conducted him to a pleasant bedroom with two largewindows facing the street, saw that everything was in order, and wishedhis guest a hearty good night. Even before he was out of the room thePhantom had started to remove his clothes.

  Yet, no sooner had the door closed than he hurried back into thegarments. Though only a few moments ago he had showed signs of greatdrowsiness, he was now fully awake, and his springy motions and thetwinkle in his eyes hinted that sleep was farthest from his mind.