“Well, what are you going to do about it?”
The Phantom stopped abruptly, gazing at the fat man with a far-away gleam in his eye, as if they were miles apart.
“I thought The Gray Phantom was dead,” he murmured. “It appears I have been mistaken. If Mr. Shei is a product of The Gray Phantom’s brain, then my old self is still active. For every crime committed by Mr. Shei, The Gray Phantom bears responsibility.” He gave a dismal laugh. “And I thought I had destroyed most of the links connecting me with the old times.”
“Well,” said Wade again, this time a little testily, “just what are you going to do about it?”
The Phantom did not answer immediately. He was staring absent-mindedly into space. Presently he looked at his watch; then he nodded thoughtfully.
“Wish you would pack my grip, Wade.”
The fat man started from the chair. “Not going away?”
“Yes; there’s a train for New York a few minutes past midnight. In the morning, bright and early, I shall start a little campaign.”
“Campaign?” Wade’s eyes bulged. “What kind of campaign?”
“The biggest one of my life, I think. I am going out to lay The Gray Phantom’s ghost. In plain words, I propose to go on the warpath against the mysterious Mr. Shei. I fancy it will be quite an exciting little tussle, Wade.”