Culligore hesitated. A thin, inscrutable smile hovered above his lips.
“If he is, he gave himself a dose of his own medicine,” was his final comment.
“And that’s precisely what I think he did.” The Phantom, speaking in low tones, gave the table a resounding thwack. “Being one of the city’s richest men, he knew suspicion was apt to turn in his direction, unless he was inoculated along with the others. He is easily one of the seven wealthiest men in town, and it would have looked queer if he had been omitted. And so, to ward off suspicion, he had a dose of the poison injected into his own veins, though I suppose the amount was carefully adjusted so it would produce the characteristic symptoms without causing death.”
Culligore appeared to ponder. “Not bad reasoning,” he remarked. “That would be on a par with the trick he played on you yesterday. Fairspeckle seems to be a shrewd old fox, the kind that isn’t overlooking any bets. Maybe you’re right. In that case, of course, the binding and gagging of the Jap was a blind.”
The Phantom nodded.
“Well, whoever Mr. Shei is, he certainly put one over last night,” was Culligore’s rueful comment. “He seems to have a gang of highly trained followers who do exactly as he tells them without batting an eyelid. Last night, between ten o’clock and two in the morning, he sent one or more of his men to the homes of each of the seven victims. In two or three instances the servants were bribed, I understand. Anyhow, Mr. Shei’s men got in by some hook or crook. Four of the seven were caught in bed and trussed up before they could say Jack Robinson. Two of the others were tapped on the back of the head when they returned home from the theater, and one got his in a taxicab. Mr. Shei made a clean sweep.”
“What do the doctors say?”
“Most of them are doing some fancy stalling to cover up what they don’t know. The high muckamucks of the profession are holding a consultation this morning to decide what’s to be done. One of them let slip the information that the symptoms look something like a combination of rabies and delirium tremens, but he believes the disease is produced by one of the ancient poisons that were known to the Asiatics. The fact that the doctors are keeping mum is a bad sign. It will be interesting to see how many of the patients will cough up Mr. Shei’s price for the antidote. If all of them come across, Mr. Shei will rake in a good many millions.”
“Billions, rather, I should say.” The Phantom smiled wearily. “If successful, the experiment will be unique in that it will demonstrate just how much a billionaire considers his life to be worth. But that isn’t what I wanted to talk with you about. Culligore, I still think that Fairspeckle knows where Miss Hardwick can be found.”
“Well?” Culligore gazed noncommittally into space.