“Good Lord!” Granger groaned. “This is awful!”
The Phantom gripped his arm. “Tell me what you know,” he commanded. “Your looks show that you are not entirely ignorant of the matter.”
The reporter’s face twitched. “I can guess what’s happened to her,” he declared, speaking in thick accents, “but I haven’t the least idea where she is.”
“Well, what do you think has happened to her?”
“She’s been kid—kidnaped.” As if to steady his nerves, Granger picked up a cigarette and lighted it.
“How do you know that?”
“Because I”—Granger drew in a whiff of smoke—“because I know the Duke’s crowd wanted her abducted. They asked me to do it, and I balked. I couldn’t—well, it simply went against the grain to do a thing like that. It was my refusal to do as they told me that got me in bad with the gang.”
The Phantom’s blood was slowly receding from his face. For a moment he sat rigid, lips tightly compressed, as if stunned. “Why did the Duke’s crowd want Miss Hardwick kidnaped?”
“That I can’t tell you. The leaders simply issue orders; they never explain their motives. I haven’t the faintest idea what their reason for abducting Miss Hardwick could be.”
Silence fell between them. The Phantom’s steely gaze continued to search the other’s face. Though evidently shocked by the news of Miss Hardwick’s disappearance, the reporter did not once lower his eyes.