Chapter XI: An Eavesdropper

The Phantom shrugged his shoulders and stepped forward, concealing his misgivings behind a smiling and carefree exterior. He knew Lieutenant Culligore from past encounters with the man, and he had learned to respect him for his shrewdness as well as his sense of fairness. Now he looked straight into the muddy and deceptively lazy eyes of the man from headquarters. Once The Phantom had assisted him in solving a singularly perplexing mystery, but he knew that Culligore was not the kind of man to let sentiment interfere with duty.

There were times when it was difficult for The Gray Phantom to realize that he was still an outlaw and that several prison sentences were hanging over his head. The poignant fact came back to him now as he gazed into the eyes of one of the keenest man hunters of the detective bureau.

"You sure have nerve," observed Culligore, a trace of reluctant admiration in his tones. "Don't you know there's a warrant out for your arrest?"

"Several of them, I believe," calmly replied The Phantom.

Lieutenant Culligore took a cigar from his vest pocket and lighted it with elaborate care. Then he turned to Starr.

"Mr. Shei's gang certainly handed you an awful wallop the other night," he observed, gazing frowningly at the disfigured organ. "That's a peach of a nose you've got."

Starr flushed angrily, but controlled himself.

"I've got a few words to say to this gentleman privately," Culligore went on, inclining his head toward The Phantom. Starr, accepting his dismissal as gracefully as his indignation permitted, walked out. Culligore's small eyes, twinkling humorously through a cloud of tobacco smoke, followed his progress till the door closed behind him, then he slowly turned toward The Phantom.

"Starr is my idea of a perfect gentleman," he musingly observed. "He can get mad clean through and still keep his coat on. Was the shot fired at you or at him?"

"Shot?" For a moment The Phantom stared bewilderedly. "How did you know?"

"My sense of smell is fairly good," said Culligore, sniffing. "I noticed there was powder smoke in the air the moment I walked in. What became of the bullet?"

The Phantom explained. With a listless air the lieutenant examined the point where the leaden slug had entered the pillar. "I'll bet a pair of pink socks that the rascal who fired the shot is a safe distance from here by this time. What I'd like to know is whether he was aiming at you or at Starr."

"Starr thinks the bullet was meant for him," said The Phantom thoughtfully. "He may be right, but I have my doubts. He is the imaginative type that believes he is being pursued by secret enemies and all that sort of thing. On the other hand, I can't see why anybody should waste a chunk of good lead on me, unless----" He stopped short as an idea suddenly occurred to him.

"Unless Mr. Shei should have a goose to pick with you," Culligore filled in, and The Phantom marveled at the way the detective had read his unspoken thought. "It's always safe to look for a shower of bullets whenever The Gray Phantom bobs up. By the way," and Culligore frowned disapprovingly, "what's the idea? Don't you know the climate in this town is mighty unhealthy for a man like you?"

"I am aware of it." The Phantom's lips tightened into a grim line. "But I had to risk it, Culligore. I couldn't sit idle while---- But first let me ask you one question. Some people seem to think that I am Mr. Shei. Do you agree with them?"

Culligore pulled thoughtfully at his cigar. His eyes seemed to be searching every remote corner of The Phantom's mind. "No," he said finally, "I don't. And I don't see it makes any difference. You're The Gray Phantom, and that's reason enough for me to pinch you. There are times when I hate my job, but duty is duty. I wish you hadn't shown up just at this time. Some of the higher-ups are dead sure you are Mr. Shei, and the whole town is on tenter hooks on account of the notices posted last night. Everybody expects Mr. Shei to strike, but nobody knows where the blow is going to fall. You can see how things are. Why the devil didn't you stay where you belong?"

"I couldn't," replied The Phantom. Then he regarded the lieutenant with a slow, carefully measuring glance. Culligore was one of the few men he had met whom he could instinctively trust. There had been clashes between them in the past, but the lieutenant had always fought fairly. Choosing his words with great deliberation, The Phantom explained why he had come out of hiding to cross swords with Mr. Shei.

"That's just like The Gray Phantom," was Culligore's comment when he had finished. "You stick your head in the noose just because somebody else is copying your tricks. Well, anyhow, I admire your nerve. Too bad you and I belong to opposite camps. We could have a lot of fun tracking Mr. Shei together." He shook his head as if to banish a pleasing but impossible hope. "No use wishing things were different, though. I don't exactly like the idea, but I've got to take you along to headquarters."

"You will have to take me in an ambulance, then." There was a note of challenge in The Phantom's tones and his figure tensed perceptibly. "You'll never take me alive, Culligore. It simply can't be done. And you will have the scrap of your life before you take me dead. I am going to see this thing through if I have to fight the whole police department of New York City. The fact that Mr. Shei is stealing my tactics isn't the only reason. I learned something this morning that is of vastly more importance. By the way," and The Phantom fairly jabbed the question at the lieutenant, "have you seen anything of Miss Helen Hardwick?"

Culligore's lazy eyes opened a little wider. "Not since yesterday morning. She and I had quite an argument about Mr. Shei. We were standing almost exactly where you and I are standing now. She knows how to fence with words. I haven't made up my mind yet whether she or I got the best of the argument."

The Phantom smiled despite his impatience. "What did she think of Mr. Shei?"

"How can anybody tell what a woman thinks? You can make a guess, of course, but the chances are either that you are wrong or that you are making just exactly the kind of guess she wants you to make. Miss Hardwick left me pretty much up in the air, but I have a feeling all the time that she had discovered something that led her to think that you were Mr. Shei."

"Oh," mumbled the Phantom; then he stood silent for a few moments. "Where did Miss Hardwick go from here?"

Culligore shrugged. "Ask me something easy. She walked out of that door, and that's all I'm sure of. There was another question or two I wanted to ask her, and that's why I dropped around here to-day, thinking she might show up again. She seemed very much wrought up over Mr. Shei."

With an impetuous gesture The Phantom placed his hand on the lieutenant's arm.

"Miss Hardwick has disappeared," he announced quickly, "and I fear she has blundered into the clutches of Mr. Shei."

"Eh?" The mask of listlessness dropped in a twinkling from Culligore's face. He was instantly tense and alert. "What's that?"

"I called up her home this morning. Nobody seems to know what has become of her. A little later I received a telephone message warning me that---- But I see I shall have to tell you the whole story in order to make things clear." Briefly The Phantom related his encounter with Mr. Fairspeckle, the events that had occurred at the apartment of the retired financier, and finally the warning message that had come over the wire. "Now you can understand," he concluded, "why I don't intend to submit to arrest until Miss Hardwick has been found."

Culligore's cigar had gone out while The Phantom was speaking. Now he lighted it again, sent a few clouds of smoke curling toward the ceiling, then peered intently into The Phantom's face. Finally he jerked his head up and down as if he had seen a light.

"The thing to do," he declared, "is to take the shortest route and go direct to Mr. Shei and ask him what he has done with Miss Hardwick."

The Phantom laughed bitterly. "Beautifully simple! The only difficulty is that we haven't the slightest idea who Mr. Shei is or where to find him. Otherwise your suggestion is capital."

A queer smile curled Culligore's lips. "Sometimes The Gray Phantom isn't playing in very good form. But then every man gets a bit foolish when he has a girl on the brain. Your thinking cap isn't on straight to-day, or you wouldn't have let Fairspeckle pull the wool over your eyes the way he did."

"Fairspeckle? You don't think----"

"He acted queer all morning, didn't he?"

"Yes, but----"

"And didn't he try to put you to sleep by drugging your coffee?"

"True, but he----"

"And didn't you see him typing the notices with Mr. Shei's name at the bottom?"

"But the telephone message?"

"Yes, I know," said Culligore patiently. "That's where he duped you to a brown finish. You would have seen the trick at once if your thinking machinery had been in good condition. I don't know Fairspeckle, but from what you have told me he must be a sharp one. My experience has taught me never to trust a man who can't sleep nights. It's a bad conscience that keeps him awake in the first place, and a man suffering from loss of sleep is likely to go in for any kind of deviltry. Maybe that's what happened to Fairspeckle. Anyhow, the way he pulled the wool over your eyes proves he is a slick one."

"Then you think Fairspeckle is Mr. Shei?"

"If he isn't, why should he be typing those notices? Just look at it this way. Fairspeckle saw that you suspected him. He didn't like that a bit. To throw you off your guard, he pretended to suspect _you_. You caught him with the goods when you saw him typing the notices. Right away you started in denouncing him as Mr. Shei. Then, right in the midst of a dramatic moment, the telephone rings. The voice at the other end asks for you. You're told that Mr. Shei is speaking and that Miss Hardwick will suffer unless you keep hands off. That gives you a jolt, of course, and all you can think of is the girl. You don't stop to question whether the man at the other end is really Mr. Shei. For all you know he might be Tom Brown or Bill Jones, but you're too excited to think of that. I don't blame you. I'd been just as easy if I had been in your place."

A blank look crossed The Phantom's face while Culligore was speaking. It was quickly followed by an expression of mingling comprehension and self-disgust.

"I see it now. I've been as gullible as a ten-year-old. The message purporting to come from Mr. Shei was meant to divert my suspicions from Fairspeckle. He might have been prepared for some such emergency, or else he signaled Haiuto while I wasn't looking. The Japanese could easily have gotten in touch with one of the members of Fairspeckle's gang and instructed him to call me up and give me the prearranged message. But just how it was done doesn't matter. The important point is that I was taken in. I am wondering now whether the threat in regard to Miss Hardwick was pure bluff, or whether she is really in danger."

"I wouldn't take chances," cautioned Culligore. "If I were you I would call on Mr. Fairspeckle to-night and have a confidential chat with him. He may not want to talk, but maybe you can persuade him. Of course, as an officer of the law, I must warn you there mustn't be any rough stuff." Culligore's twinkling eyes gazed toward the ceiling.

"Then you have abandoned your intention of dragging me over to headquarters?"

Culligore did not answer directly, but the faint grin on his lips was eloquent. "I would advise you to watch your step," he said softly. "The moment it becomes known that The Gray Phantom is in town, there will be the niftiest little man hunt you ever saw. I wish you luck. In the meantime, I'm going to tackle the case from another angle. I'd give a pair of pink socks to know just when, where, and how Mr. Shei is going to strike."

He tilted his chin against his hand and lapsed into deep thought. When he looked up, several minutes later, The Phantom was gone. Very softly, with a twinkle in his eyes, he stepped to a recess in the wall toward which he had cast an occasional furtive glance during his talk with The Phantom. On a marble shelf extended across the niche were a number of potted ferns, and behind them was a small window, artistically decorated to render it opaque. Culligore, noticing that it stood open a crack, pricked up his ears and listened. From the other side came a faint, scraping sound, as if someone were hiding there.

Culligore nodded elatedly as he tiptoed away. He seemed immensely gratified at having verified his suspicion that his interview with The Gray Phantom had been overheard.