“I have discovered a new use for skeletons.”
“New? You are mistaken, my excellent friend. The efficacy of skeletons and like objects as means of moral suasion has been understood for a long time. I believe the wicked old doges of Venice used similar methods when they wished to put their enemies into a receptive frame of mind and did not care to resort to physical torture. It is strange how all of us—even a strong man like yourself—stand in awe of objects associated with death and decay.”
“It is,” agreed the Phantom dryly. “But I don’t quite get the idea. I admit the ghostly vaudeville you staged for my benefit was a bit creepy. I would rather face a regiment of smooth rascals like you than a grinning skeleton. But if you expected me to come out of that spook chamber a broken man you are doomed to disappointment.”
“I didn’t, as a matter of fact.” The doctor smiled amusedly. “I am well aware that it takes something more than that to break a man like the Gray Phantom.”
“Then what was the object?”
“You shall see presently. My friend, you have given me no end of trouble. Since the day you made your first unexpected appearance in my laboratory, I have done my best to save you from the police, but you seemed determined to rush blindly into their arms. I did not realize how stubborn and foolhardy you were till the morning when I entered your bedroom and found it empty. You knew the police were combing the town for you, and I had hoped that would keep you in.”
“It was a shameless abuse of hospitality,” confessed the Phantom. “But I take it you were not altogether unselfish in your desire to save me from arrest.”
Bimble smiled as he ran his eyes up and down the Phantom’s figure. “Borrowed feathers are not becoming to you,” he observed critically. “These togs are atrocious. But the idea itself was excellent. I did not even guess that the Gray Phantom was masquerading as a newspaper reporter until the trick you played on Pinto and Dan the Dope gave me an inkling of the truth. Then, last evening, upon my return from a visit in the neighborhood, I found you and Lieutenant Culligore in the basement of my house. The few words I overheard were sufficient to verify my suspicions. I saw that Culligore had you cornered, and I guessed you would try to reach the tunnel. Then—But I think you know the rest.”
“All except what happened to Culligore.”
The doctor beamed. “Poor Culligore! He’s really a much cleverer man than you would think—cleverer than yourself, in certain ways. An automatic equipped with a flash light and a silencer put a bullet into his leg while he was looking for you in the cellar. A most regrettable accident!” Bimble laughed softly. “The poor man is now under my professional care, and I fear he will not be out for some time.”