“But you won’t shoot. It takes a particular kind of nerve to kill a defenseless man in cold blood, and you haven’t got it. Good-by.”
He took another step, but a short and peremptory “Halt!” brought him to a stop. There was something in the lieutenant’s tone that gave him pause. He turned and looked down.
“You’ve sized me up just about right,” admitted Culligore. “I can’t kill a man who hasn’t got a chance for his life. But if you move another step, you’ll get a slug of lead in your leg. If you think I’m bluffing, just try.”
The Phantom hesitated. The words and the tone left no room for doubt as to the speaker’s earnestness, and even a slight flesh wound would hamper the Phantom’s movements and frustrate his plans. He came down the few steps he had covered and stood on the basement floor.
“All right, Culligore. You win this time, but don’t think for a moment that I’ll let you carry this joke much further. I have very strenuous objections to being arrested at this particular time. Mind if I smoke a cigarette?”
“I do,” the lieutenant said dryly. “I have heard about your cute little ways, and I’m not taking any chances. You don’t play any of your tricks on me, Mr. Phantom.”
“You surely don’t think that I’ll permit you to drag me off to a cell?”
“How are you going to help yourself?”
“Why, man, it can’t be done! It’s been tried before, you know. And just now I am a very busy man and can’t afford to waste time. Besides, what charge do you propose to arrest me on? Not the murder of Gage and Mrs. Trippe?”
“There are other charges waiting for you in court. You’ve been having a gay time for a good many years, but this is the end of it. You’ve done some very fancy wriggling in the past, but you can’t wriggle out of this.”