“The young lady is here to serve our purpose. After that——”
He saw it all in a blinding flash that scorched like fire. With their usual cunning the Duke’s men had perceived that neither by torture nor by threats of death could the Gray Phantom be forced to comply with their desires. They had known that he held his life lightly and could suffer personal punishment like an Indian. And so their diabolically crafty minds had conceived the idea of letting Helen Hardwick’s agonized cries pierce his armor of pride and obduracy, thus accomplishing what could never have been accomplished by other means.
They had judged him accurately, was his grim reflection. Rather than see a hair of Helen’s head harmed he would gladly make any sacrifice. But the sinister significance of the doctor’s words had been plain. The Phantom would not insure Helen’s safety by accepting Bimble’s terms. Evidently, Miss Hardwick had come into possession of information which the gang feared she might divulge if set free, and consequently she was to be silenced forever as soon as Bimble’s purpose had been attained.
While he awaited the doctor’s return the Phantom thought quickly. By accepting Bimble’s terms he would only be hastening Helen’s doom, for the gang, having no further use for her after they had gained their ends, would probably put her to death quickly. On the other hand, by rejecting the conditions, he would at least gain time. In the meanwhile Bimble might inflict cruel suffering upon her, but his selfish interests would restrain him from taking her life, for, once he had done so, his sole hold upon the Phantom would be gone.
The reasoning was plain, but he found it hard to reach a decision. Perhaps death would be merciful in comparison with the tortures that Bimble might subject her to. He was caught between the jaws of a fearful dilemma, and the only sane course he could see was to play for time.
Doctor Bimble returned. “Why do women never swoon until the worst is over?” he questioned in whimsical tones. “Miss Hardwick is a surprising young lady, but she is not free from the foibles of her sex. She had no sooner been taken out of the dark room than she promptly collapsed.”
The Phantom held back the biting words on his tongue, but he could not forego a look of withering contempt.
“Do you know,” the doctor went on, “I am almost certain that Miss Hardwick knows where your retreat is located? In fact, she let slip something that convinces me she does. But do you suppose the stubborn little beauty would tell? Not she! I don’t believe the fear of eternal fires could force her to speak.”
He had guessed correctly, but the Phantom carefully refrained from signifying by a look or a word that it was so. Miss Hardwick knew about Sea-Glimpse, and it was with mingled feelings the Phantom heard of her refusal to reveal the secret. Had she become aware, through some process of divination, that her life would be forfeited the moment the information was in the doctor’s possession, or had she been guided by other reasons?
“So you see,” continued Bimble in smooth tones, “that you will save the little lady from all sorts of unpleasantness by acceding to my very reasonable terms. It would be a shame if such a charming woman should become a gibbering maniac as a result of obstinacy on your part. Where did you say this place of yours is situated?”