THE GREY PHANTOM’S ROMANCE

Sun (Auckland), Volume III, Issue 793, 14 October 1929, Page 5

THE GREY PHANTOM’S ROMANCE

The Astonishing Adventures of a Lovable Outlaw. Copyright by Street and Smith Con?. Serialised by Ledger Syndicate

SYNOPSIS OF PRECEDING CHAPTER. Late one night Patrolman Pinto is railed into the shop of Sylvanus Gage, recluse tobacco dealer just off the Bowery, New York. The old housekeeper, who had summoned him, fears foul play to her master, who had recently received . threatening letter signed "Grey Phantom.” Breaking in the door, OtTT-er Pinto finds Gage dying from a knife thrust and is just in time to catch tho words “Grey Phantom’’ from the murdered man's lips. CHAPTER If. THE MISSING BAUBLE fhere was an indefinable air about the chamber that vaguely suggested 'he abode of one whose life is hidden Horn the world. The ragged carpet and the ancient wallpaper were of neutral tones, and the atmosphere was s iale and oppressive, as if seldom freshened by sun or wind. Lieutenant Culligore's drowsily blinking eyes travelled over the scene, yet he appeared to see nothing. The safe iu a corner seemed rather too large for the modest requirements of a tobacconist. Nearby stood an ink-stained writing desk and a chair. The clothing on the narrow' iron cot looked as 'hough the occupant, suddenly disturbed in his sleep, had sprung from in a hurry. In the centre of the room lay a < uriously twisted figure, garbed in J yjamas of pink flannel. Over the ueart was a dull stain, and the right arm lay across the chest in a manner hinting that the dead man had used his last ounce of strength to ward ofl: a blow. One of the legs was drawn up almost to the abdomen, and the eyes were fixed on the ceiling in a Slassy stare. Pinto?’* Culligore looked as though he expected the patrolman to no tlie necessary thinking. ** Tlle corpse told me the Grey Fhartom did it.” said Pinto iu a tone finality. “Don’t you think we’d better start a general alarm, sir?” Corpses are sometimes mistaken, Fmto. ’ The lieutenant fumbled for and s^owlv kindled his cigar, i u bet a pair of pink socks that the T? ailtUm nothing to do with this. ..T e , Phantom always fought clean. ~ hate like blue blazes to think that Pulled off this job.” jUto scowled a little, as if he wouldn't quite understand why Culli- *■'? re should reject an easy solution the mystery when it came to him teady-made. the way,” and Culligore fixed indolent eye on the electric fix-

ture above the desk, “was the light on or off when you broke in?” “It was off, sir. I turned it on myself.” Culligore thought for a moment. “Well, that doesn't mean much. The murderer might have switched it off before he made his get-away, or the room might have been dark all the time. “I’d give a good smoke to know | whether the murder was done in the light or dark.” Pinto's eyes widened inquiringly. “You see. Pinto, if the light was on we can take it for granted Gage saw the murderer's face. If the loom was dark, then he was just guessing j when he told you it was The Phantom. It would have been a natural guess, too, for he would be very apt to suppose that the murderer was the man who had sent him the threatening letter. Since we can’t know whether Gage was stabbed in the light or the dark, we'd better forget what he told you and take a fresh start” His eyes flitted about the ; room, and a flicker of interest appealed in their depths. “How- do you J suppose the murderer got out, Pinto?” The patrolman looked significantly at the single window in the room. Culligore took a spiral tape measure from the little black box he always carried when at work on a homicide ; case and measured the width of the j narrow sash. “Too small.” he declared. “You'd have to yank in jour belt several notches before j-ou could crawl through a window of this size, Pinto. Anyhow, it’s latched from the inside.” A look of perplexity in his reddish face, Pinto turned to the door. He looked a bit dazed as he noticed the damage he had wrought in forcing it. One of the panels was cracked in the centre, and the slot in which (he bolt had rested had been torn out of the frame. “You see, Pinto.” There was a grin on Culligore's lips. “The murj derer couldn't have got out of the j window, because it’s much too small. ' and he couldn’t have walked out i through the door. because it was ! bolted from the inside. There’s no j transom, so he could not have ad- ! justed the bolt from the other side. Nobody has yet figured out a way of passing through a door or window- and leaving it bolted on the inside.” Pinto stared at the door, at the window, and finally at Culligore. The i problem seemed bej-ond him. Then he j took his baton and, tapping as he went, j explored every- square foot of floor and j | walls, but no hollow- sounds betraj-ed j the presence of a hidden opening. He i shook his head in a flabbergasted way. I j “It's possible, of course,” suggested ! the lieutenant, “that the murderer was | still in the room when you broke in. I He might have made his getaway- in the dark w-hile you were hunting for the light switch.” • The housekeeper would have seen him,” Pinto pointed out. “She was : standing just outside. And there was j a crowd at the entrance. “Say,” and ; a startled look crossed his face, “do you suppose Gage killed himself?’ “That would be an easy solution, | all right. But if he did. what was j his idea in telling you that The Phantom had done it? And I don't see any

knife around. Gage wouldn’t have had the strength to pull it out of the wound, and, even if he had, how did he dispose of it? No, Pinto, Gage was murdered, and—ha,ng it all! —it’s beginning to look as though The Phantom did it.” “But you just said—” “All I'm say-ing now- it that it's beginning to look as if The Phantom had had a hand in it. Things aren't always what they- seem, you know. I’m not taking much stock in what Gage told you just before lie died. There are other reasons. One of them is the size of that w-indow-. Another is the fact that the door was bolted on the inside. Together they show- that the man who committed this murder accomplished something of a miracle in getting out of the room. The Phantom is the only man I know who can do that sort of thing.” He grinned sheepishly, as if conscious of having' said something that sounded extravagant. “Stunts like that are the Phantom’s long suit,” lie went on. “He likes' to throw dust in the eyes of the police and keep everybody guessing. But he was alvaj-s a gentlemanly- rascal, and it takes something besides a bolted door and a window latched on the inside to make me believe he has gotten down to dirty work. Wish the medical examination would hurry up.” He took a cover from the cot and threw it over the upper part of the body. A ’chance glance toward the. door made him pause. Just across the threshold, w-ith hands clasped across her breast and eyes fixed rigidly on the lifeless heap on the floor, stood the housekeeper. She awoke with a start from her reverie as she felt the lieutenant’s steady- gaze on her face, and she shrank back a step. With a puckering of the blows, Culligore turned away. His eyes fell on the safe. A pull at the knob told him it was locked. He took a magnifying lens from his kit and carefully- examined the surface. Then, with a shake of the head signify-ing he had found no finger-prints, he crooked his index finger at the housekeeper. She advaned reluctantly, and Culligore studied her with a sidelong glance. “You needu't talk unless you want to.” he said gently. “The department isn't offering you any immunity. We’ve known for some time that Gage was running a fence, though w-e never got the goods on him.” The woman, standing in a crouching attitude and studiously avoiding Culligore’s gaze, swept a tress of

moist grey- hair from her forehead. “We’ve also suspected that you have been in cahoots with him,” continued the lieutenant in casual tones. “Oh, don’t get scared. We won’t go into that just now. All I want is that we understand each other.-” The woman raised her head and looked straight at Officer Pinto, and there was a hint of dread in her eyes as their glances met. A puzzled frown crossed Culligore's face as he noticed the. strange exchange of glances; then he pointed to the safe. “Know how to open it?” The housekeeper shook her head. “Mr. Gage kept only- cheap junk in it, any-how. All he used it for was a blind.” “A blind?” “He had to keep a lot of valuables in the house all the time, and he was always afraid of burglars. He kept a lot of phony- stuff in the safe, thinking if burglars found it they might be fooled and not look any further.” “Ah! Not a bad idea. Where did he keep the real stuff?” The woman hesitated for a moment: then, with a quick gesture, she pointed to the old writing desk. “Gage was a shrewd one.” observed the lieutenant. “With a safe iu the room, nobody would think of looking

for valuables in a broken-down desk. Now,” drawing a little closer to the woman and trying to catch her shifty eyes, “1 wish you would tell us who killed him. I think y-ou know.” A tremor passed over the woman's ashen face, and she fixed Pinto with a look that caused the lieutenant to lift his brows in perplexity. Finally-, she pointed a finger at the patrolman. “You heard what he said, didn't you? Mr. Gage told him the GreyPhantom did it. Isn’t that enough?” Culligore regarded her narrowly-, as if sensing an attempt at evasion in what she had just said. Then he nodded and seemed to be searching his memory. “Let me see —Gage and the Phantom had some kind of a row a few years back?” The housekeeper’s “Yes” was scarcely audible. “What was it about?” Her lips curled in scorn. “That's what I.could never understand. They were quarreling like two overgrown boys over a piece of green rock. Imitation jade was what Ml-. Gage called it. I never got the story straight, but it seems the Phantom had been carrying it around as a kind of keepsake for years. He lost it finally, and somehow it got into Mr. Gage’s hands. The Phantom wanted it back, but Mr. Gage was just stubborn enough to hang on to it. They- had an awful rumpus, and 1 think the Phantom threatened to get Mr. Gage some day.” “All that fuss about a piece of phony- jade? The Phantom must have had some particular reason for wanting it back. What was it shaped like?” “It was a funny kind of cross, with eight tips to it.” “A Maltese cross, maybe.” Lieutenant Culligore whistled curiously-. “The Phantom’s a queer cuss. Likely as not he thought more of that piece of imitation jade than most people would of a thousand dollars. What I don’t see is why Gage wouldn’t give it up. Unless,” he added with a shrewd grin, “lie knew how badly- the Phantom wanted it and hoped to make him cough up real dough for it. Wasn’t that it?” A shrug was the housekeeper's only response. "And the Phantom, of course, baulked at the idea of paying good money for his own property-. But it seems Gage would have given it up when he saw that it was putting his life in danger. I suppose, though, he thought the Phantom was onlybluffing. He didn't believe anybodywould commit a murder over a thing that could be bought for a few cents.” Again the housekeeper shot Pinto a queer glance. “If y-ou don’t want me any- more, I think I’ll ” “Just a moment,” interrupted Cuiligore. “I want you to show me the letter Gage got yesterday.” With a sullen gesture she stepped to the desk, fumbled for a few moments among the drawers, then drew forth a letter and handed it to the j lieutenant. Culligore examined the ] envelope and the superscription under ; the light, then pulled out the enclos- j ure. “ ‘The Grey Phantom neither for- ] gives nor forgets,’ ” he read aloud. \ “Short and to the point. Now let’s j have a look at the Maltese cross. But wait—here's the medical examiner. Y'ou’re late, doc.” “Car broke down.” The examiner, a thickset, bearded, crisp-mannered individual, put a few questions to Culligore and Pinto, then uncovered the body, explored the region of the wound with an expert touch, and

| finally- jotted down a few notes in a j I red-covered hook. As he rose from j ! his kneeling position, the lieutenant ; | gave him a signal out of the corner j 1 of his ey-e, and the two men left the i room together. “Just one question, doc.” Culligore | spoke iu low tones, as if anxious that Pinto and the housekeeper should not hear. “About that wound. Plow j long did Gage live after he was . stabbed?” "Not very- long.” “Long enough to tell Pinto the name of the man who stabbed him?” The examiner looked startled. “Yes, in all probability-. Say-, y-ou don’t suspect that cop in there of ” “Not after what you’ve told me.” Culligore wheeled on ijis heels and re-entered the inner room. His upper lip brushed the tip of his nose, signifying he had learned something interesting. Pinto was replacing the cover over the body-, while the housekeeper, standing a few paces away-, was regarding him with a fixed, inscrutable look. “Now let’s see the Maltese cross,” ! directed the lieutenant. The woman jerked herself up. Her j eyes held a defiant, gleam, but it died ; away quickly. With evident reluctI anee she approached the desk and j pointed. | “There’s a hidden drawer back there in the corner,” she announced. “I don’t know how to open it. YouTl have to find that out for y-ourself.” Culligore, after looking in vain for a concealed spring, took a small tool from his kit. To locate the drawer without the woman’s help would have j been a difficult task, for it was ingeniously- hidden in an apparently solid portion of the desk. .With a few deft twists and jerks he forced it open, 1 and poured out the contents, consist- ; ing of a great number of small objects I wrapped in tissue paper. Each of the i little wads contained a diamond. Unwrapping one after another, Culligore | gathered them iu a glittering heap on I tjie desk. The stones varied in size j and brilliancy. Occasionally- he raised j one of them to the light and inspected it keenly-, satisfy-ing himself of its j genuineness. “Some eye-teasers!” he muttered.] “But where’s the Maltese cross?” j The housekeeper’s face went blank, j She stared at the diamonds, then at the empty drawer. “It was there day before yesterday-,” she declared. “Mr. Gage showed it to me.” There was an odd tension in the lieutenant's manner. “Did the Phantom know about the secret drawer and how to open it?” The woman, ono hand clutching the edge of the desk, seemed to ponder. “I don’t know. He might have. The I Phantom called on Mr. Gage several 1 times after they started quarrelling, j But—” ] “Weil, it doesn’t matter.” There was ! ] a strain of suppressed disappointment in Culligore's tones, aud his face j hinted that an illusion was slipping j away from him. “It looks as though ; the thing was settled. The Grey j Phantom is the only man I know who ; would pass up some £IO,OOO worth of diamonds after taking the trouble to steal a gewgaw worth gbout two bits.” With dragging gait he left tlie room, stepped behind the counter outside, and spoke into the telephone. In a few moments now the alarm would go out, and a thousand eyes would be searching for the Grey Phantom. Culligore, tarrying for a little after he had hung up the receiver, looked as though he were in a mood to quarrel with his duty and with the facts staring hint in the face. Then he shrugged, as if to banish regrets of which he was halt ashamed, and his face bore a look of dogged determination when he stepped back into the bedroom. "We'll get him,” he announced with

'grim assurance. Inside fifteen minutes there'll be a net thrown around this old town so tight a mouse couldn't wriggle through.” He picked up his hat and kit, and just then his eyes fell on the housekeeper’s face. In vain he exercised his wits to interpret the sly gaze with which she. was fixing Patrolman Pinto. Did it mean fear, suspicion, horror, hate, or all four?

CHAPTER 111. BLUE OR GREY? Cuthbert Vanardy was conscious of a disquieting tension in the air. The long shadows cast by the trees that ' stood in clusters on the lawn of Sea- ! Glimpse impressed him as sinister harbingers of coming events. He smiled as it occurred to him that his highest ambition at the present moment was to produce a gray orchid. It was only a whim, a diversion from more serious work, but the novelty of the experiment, as well as the difficulties in the way, appealed to him. By intricate cross-breeding he was gradually developing an orchid of a dim. mystic gray, his favourite

| colour. When once evolved. the i hybrid should be known as The Phantom orchid. It would be the living symbol of whatever had been good in his other self, the Grey Phantom. ! His thoughts went back to those | other days when he had gone, like a I swaggering Robin Hood, from one stupendous adventure to another. Even his bitterest enemies, and there had been many of them, had never accused the Grey Phantom of being actuated by considerations of sordid gain. The public had gasped and the police muttered maledictions as he gratified his thirst for thrills and excitement, always playing the game in strict accord with his code and invariably planning his exploits so that his victims were villains of a ; far blacker dye than he. Always his left hand had tossed away what his right hand had plucked. The Grey Phantom, through it all, maintained an elusiveness that completely baffled the police and clothed ; his identity in a glamorous haze. So astounding were his performances that there were those who asked themselves whether he was not practising black magic. Once, in the early days of his career, he fell into the-clutches of the police, satisfying j the superstitious ones that he was really a being a flesh and blood, but an amazing escape a few days later i revived the gossip of a rogue who ! was iu collusion with evil spirits. The Phantom was greatly amused and spurred his energies to even more dizzying flights, but there were times when a softer mood came upon him, and then he wondered why his rest-

less spirit could not have found a different outlet. There came long lapses between the adventures, and finally it began to be rumoured that The Grey Phantom had gone into retirement with his accumulated treasures, for no one guessed that he had flung away his spoils as fast as he garnered them in. Nobody understood the true reason for the change that had come over him, and The Phantom least of all. Stepping into the library, he lighted his reading lamp and took a work, on horticulture from the shelf. There was a problem in connection with toe grey orchid that he had not vet born able to work out satisfactorily. He pat down and opened the book, but thprint danced and blurred beneath his eyes. A woman's fact appeared out of nowhere, the same face that had haunted him in idle moments foi months. His mental picture was dirr and fragmentary, and lir could no l distinctly remember ever the colout of the hair or whether the eyes were blue or grey, hut the vision pursue*' him with the persistence of a hauntins scent or a strain from an old familial song.