He alighted in front of a modest brownstone house, its rigid exterior relieved by sprawling vines and flowers in the window boxes. The female servant who opened the door announced that Mr. Hardwick was at home, and The Phantom gently pushed past her. In the room he entered, a thin, stoop-shouldered man was pacing back and forth with hands clasped at his back. He stopped abruptly at sight of The Phantom and peered blankly into the visitor’s face.
“You know me?” inquired The Phantom.
“It’s—it can’t be—The Gray Phantom?” A startled look appeared in Mr. Hardwick’s deeply furrowed face. He came a few steps nearer. “But you are The Gray Phantom, I see. I recognize you from your photographs. Where is my daughter?”
The Phantom was a trifle taken aback by the sharply spoken question. “Then you have received no word from her? I telephoned your house shortly after my arrival in the city and was told she had been missing for twenty-four hours. I was in hopes you might have heard from her this morning. That’s why I called.”
“I have not seen my daughter since breakfast day before yesterday,” explained Mr. Hardwick in quavering tones. “In the afternoon I received a brief message from her announcing she did not expect to be home for dinner and telling me not to worry. She is an impetuous child, and it isn’t the first time she has caused me anxiety. Her message made me very uneasy, for she had been acting strangely ever since—since——”
“Since the affair at the Thelma Theater,” guessed The Phantom. “Listen, Mr. Hardwick. I am as deeply concerned in what has happened to her as you can possibly be. I intend to find her, no matter where she may be. Can you trust me?”
Mr. Hardwick’s dim eyes searched The Phantom’s face for a long time. At first there was a look of doubt and suspicion in the old man’s countenance, but it faded gradually away.
“I believe I can,” he declared. “I know what your past has been, and I confess I have disapproved strongly of the friendship between you and my daughter. She is still impressionable and there are romantic notions in her head, and you will forgive me if I say that you did not seem quite the proper person for her to associate with.”
“I can understand that,” murmured The Phantom. “Your attitude was quite natural in view of the circumstances.”
“And so,” continued Mr. Hardwick, “when your letters came I did not feel justified in giving them to her. I was not unappreciative of what you had done for her and me, but I feared she might form an unsuitable attachment. In short, I destroyed the letters after a glance at the handwriting on the envelope.”