“Is it because you realize that, if I am killed, Tagala will die with me?” The Phantom’s smile told that he once more felt he was master of the situation. “Is that the reason, Slade?”
Slade grumbled inarticulately. He glanced gloomily at the men lined up behind him. Then he looked again at The Phantom, and his face took on a baffled look. He seemed unable to account for the fact that one man, single-handed, was holding nine at bay. Suddenly, as his glance flitted up and down The Phantom’s tense figure, his face brightened a trifle. He whispered something in the ear of the man at his side, and the latter immediately hurried away.
The Phantom felt a twinge of misgiving. It was evident from the gratified smirk on Slade’s lips that an inspiration had just occurred to him and that he was planning a surprise of some sort. The Phantom wondered whether the resourceful Mr. Shei had provided against this latest emergency as he had against the others. He waited in a state of tremulous tension, and presently a slight sound drew his attention to the stairs at the end of the hall.
He glanced aside out of the tail of an eye, and then sudden despair took hold of him. Halfway up the stairs, gazing blankly down upon the scene in the hall, stood Helen Hardwick. There was a look in her face that caused a groan to break from The Phantom’s lips.
Suddenly he stiffened. In an instant he saw the meaning of the elated smile on Slade’s face. Directly behind Helen he discerned a crouching figure, evidently the man who had left the hall a few minutes before.
“Splendid!” ejaculated Slade. “I see you have already glimpsed the idea. At this very moment the muzzle of a pistol is pressing against Miss Hardwick’s back. The slightest pressure on the trigger will send a bullet through her heart. You cannot fire at him, much as you would like to do so, for Miss Hardwick’s figure makes an excellent bulwark. Will you admit you are beaten?”
Torn between rage and despair, The Phantom gazed rigidly at Helen. The stolid expression on her face showed plainly that she had not the faintest inkling of what was going on. Now and then her lips twitched as if she were on the point of laughing. Of the figure crouching behind her only an elbow and a narrow strip of shoulder were visible. An anguished cry rose in The Phantom’s throat as he saw the full infamy of Slade’s ruse.
“I shall begin to count,” said Slade in triumphant tones. “If, by the time I come to ten, you have not signified by throwing down your pistol that you are willing to surrender, Miss Hardwick will die instantly.”
A hush, charged with an electric tension, followed the ultimatum. Then, slowly and evenly, Slade began to count:
“One—two—three—four—five——”