The Phantom looked a trifle bewildered. The reporter had read his mind.
Granger chuckled. “I can see in which direction your mind is working. You think the bolted door and other circumstances prove that no one but Pinto could have committed the murder. You believe that after killing Gage he murdered the housekeeper in order to silence her. Pinto’s queer conduct, especially the stunt he pulled off in the storeroom this morning, is sufficient proof, to your way of thinking, and you base your entire case on the guess that Pinto is a member of the Duke’s gang.”
“Don’t you agree with me? I read between the lines of your stories in the Sphere that you did not share the generally accepted opinion.”
Granger looked up quickly. “The devil you did! I didn’t mean to air my private opinions. It must have been a subconscious process. To be perfectly frank, I don’t know whether I agree with you or not. I have an idea of my own on the subject, but it’s vague as yet. Maybe I’ll tell you later.”
The Phantom shrugged his shoulders. “The mystery of the murders doesn’t interest me particularly just at present. Granger, if you were in my position, how would you go about finding Miss Hardwick?”
The reporter considered for a long time. “My first step would be to get in touch with the Duke’s gang and try to ascertain where Miss Hardwick is being concealed. That’s a large order, and you will find it fairly exciting. The Duke, I’ve been told, hates you as he never hated anyone before, and he’s almost as dangerous behind prison bars as outside. He froths at the mouth whenever he mentions your name to the other prisoners. Your borrowed personality won’t give you a great deal of protection, for there are a lot of sharp-eyed men in the Duke’s crowd, and, besides, you’re in almost as great danger whether you appear as the Gray Phantom or as Tommie Granger.”
The Phantom waved his hand deprecatingly. “I have considered all that. The question is, how am I to get in contact with the gang.” He peered reflectively at the man on the couch; then an idea came to him. “How did the heads of the organization communicate with you? To whom did you report and from whom did you receive your orders?”
“From my acquaintance of the Turkish coffee house.”
“The piratical-looking fellow?”
Granger nodded.