Soon Bimble would receive word from his messengers that they had been hoaxed, and then Helen would be subjected to another agonizing ordeal in the dark room. The Phantom shuddered as his imagination pictured her strapped to the chair in that chamber of ghastly things. Again he looked sharply about the room, hoping against hope that something would suggest a way of escape to him.
He found nothing. The only objects were the cot and the table, and they offered no solution whatever. His pockets contained nothing but a handkerchief and a watch, together with the cigarettes and matches Jerome had brought him with his dinner. At least a score of times during the late afternoon and evening he had given the chain a minute inspection, only to be convinced that it could not be tampered with. With the aid of a small nail or a penknife he might have been able to pick the lock that held it to his ankle, but not even a pin had been left him.
The Phantom was all but ready to admit defeat. His only fortifying thought was that he had never yet been the loser in a game of wits, and that for Helen’s sake he could not fail now.
He rose quickly from the cot as the door opened and Doctor Bimble strode into the room. His face was dark, and a look of sullen anger had taken the place of his usual smile.
“You lied!” he declared gruffly. “I half suspected you would, but I hardly thought you would attempt anything so clumsy as this. What have you gained by it?”
“Time,” said the Phantom, pretending a coolness he did not feel.
The doctor laughed derisively. There was a dull flush in his cheeks and an ugly glitter in his eyes, but again he took care not to step within the Phantom’s reach.
“Time! Bah! Really, Vanardy, you’re simpler than I thought. Just as if a few hours more or less could make any difference! You will either tell me what I want to know, or, Miss Hardwick will go to the madhouse or the grave. She will be as harmless in one place as in the other. I trust you understand?”
“Your meaning is perfectly clear.” The Phantom spoke in level tones. “If you would come a step closer, I should take extreme pleasure in beating you within an inch of your life. But you have no inclination in that direction, I see. Like most of your kind, you are a coward.”
“Words never hurt.”