He withdrew, and The Phantom sat down. His eyes were keen and bright and there was a new vim and confidence in his manner. He had several reasons for feeling highly elated. Starr and his men, trapped in the secret chamber, had been lodged in jail. The seven capitalists were recovering rapidly following the administration of the antidote. Starr, after a thorough sweating by the police, had grudgingly revealed the whereabouts of Culligore and Fairspeckle, and they had been rescued from their uncomfortable position under the Thelma Theater. Incidentally, the room had been found to contain a great amount of loot stored up by Starr’s organization. The full story of The Gray Phantom’s achievements had been published in the newspapers, and strong efforts were being made to have all outstanding indictments against him quashed. His adventure had been successful in every respect.
He sprang up as Helen, with a wild-rose flush in her rather pale cheeks, ran into the room.
“Gray Phantom!” she whispered.
His smile was a trifle sad. “The Gray Phantom is dead,” he murmured. Then his face brightened. A whimsical light came into his eyes. “But in my gardens at Sea Glimpse I am trying to bring out a little gray orchid that is to be planted on his grave, symbolizing whatever was good in him. I am thinking of calling it The Phantom Orchid.”
“How poetic!” she exclaimed. “But I don’t quite like to think of The Gray Phantom as dead. He was so splendid in many ways, just like the hero of my poor little play. All he needed was to have the good in him brought to the surface. And that reminds me—the hero of my play was you!”
The Phantom nodded. “I was conceited enough to suspect it as soon as I saw the reviews in the papers.”
Helen looked as if her thoughts were wandering away from the present. “The weirdest experience of my life was when I saw Starr enact the rôle of the hero in my play. He actually lived the part. And it was then I first suspected he was Mr. Shei.”
The Phantom seemed puzzled.
“I am not sure I can explain. The idea that Starr was Mr. Shei came to me like a flash, yet there was quite a little feminine logic behind it. My hero was modeled after you, but Starr enhanced the resemblance. He introduced things that were not in my play, but which made the similarity between my hero and you all the more striking. His gestures and mannerisms were all yours. As I sat there marveling at it, the name of Mr. Shei suddenly leaped into my mind. I think Virginia Darrow must have felt the same thing. From time to time she looked at Starr in the strangest way, as if she had suddenly made a startling discovery.”
“Hm,” mumbled The Phantom. “Perhaps that was why she sent Starr that facetious note.”