“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.