“More so,” The Phantom assured him. “I have discovered a new weapon since last night. Before you leave this room, you will have told me where the antidote is hidden.”
Tagala grinned insolently. He tilted his head back against the pillow and complacently regarded The Phantom.
“You are very amusing,” he murmured. “I thought that——”
He stopped and looked toward a corner of the ceiling. The Phantom followed his glance, and his figure tensed perceptibly. From somewhere above their heads came strains of soft, lilting laughter, edged now and then with a hysterical vibration. A pallor began to spread over The Phantom’s face.
“There, my dear Gray Phantom,” said the doctor elatedly, “is your answer.”
The Phantom clenched his fingers spasmodically. His face was hard and his eyes held a strange gleam.
“You are mistaken, doctor.” He clipped off the words with sinister precision. “Until a moment ago I had silly scruples about employing my latest weapon. After hearing that,” and he inclined his head toward the corner of the ceiling, “I have concluded that any methods are fair when dealing with scoundrels of your type.”
“That is obviously true,” assented Tagala cheerfully. “The only difficulty is that any methods you employ are certain to prove ineffective. Please don’t make any more threats against my life. I should laugh, and that would be impolite.”
The Phantom came a step nearer the cot. “No,” he said grimly, “I have no intention of doing anything so futile. I have the best reason in the world for not wanting you to die just yet. Also, I have discovered a much more effective way of dealing with you.”
An odd emphasis in his tones seemed to impress the doctor. A flicker of uneasiness crossed his face, but it was gone in a moment.