The Phantom was about to reply when one of the doors in front was pushed open and the shadow of a masculine figure fell across the floor. After a glance into the face of the newcomer, The Phantom sensed danger and tried to retreat into a corner where the dim light held out a faint hope of brief security. But it was too late.
“Stay right where you are,” commanded the man who had just entered. “Didn’t know The Gray Phantom was back in town. Step out here where I can look at you.”
[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.