“Sure,” said Jepson. “The big chief don’t like to take chances. He means to rush a bunch of us to the Phantom’s place as soon as he finds out where it is. There may be a scrap when we get there.”
“Quite likely.” The Phantom repressed a smile. There was a fever in his veins, and he wished Jepson would walk faster. They descended into the basement, sparsely lighted by a small bulb suspended over the stairs, and Jepson picked his way carefully over the floor. Finally he stopped before a door, inserted a key in the lock, and walked in.
The room was dark, but a quick gasp, resembling a sudden intake of breath, told the Phantom it was occupied. His body tingled with suppressed excitement. Jepson was standing in the doorway, and a light scraping sound indicated that he was running his hands over the wall in search of a switch.
As light flooded the narrow room the Phantom stifled an exclamation. In a chair at the wall sat a slender figure, rigidly still save for the trembling of the hands clasped across the bosom. Long waves of lustrous hair framed a face white as alabaster, and the large brown eyes were staring at Jepson with an expression of dread. There was a quiver in the distended orbs, as if a frightful recollection were lingering in their depths.
She shrank back against the chair as Jepson lumbered toward her. For a moment longer she remained motionless, then a long-drawn moan sounded in her throat, and with hands thrust out she sprang from the chair.
“You sha’n’t take me back there!” she cried in tones edged with fury and terror. “I won’t go back! I won’t!”
“Easy now, lady! No use kicking up a fuss.” Jepson roughly seized her arm, squeezed it until she uttered a sharp cry of pain, and started dragging her toward the door.
Then, of a sudden, the Phantom’s fist shot out. Hard as steel, it delivered a stinging, crunching blow between Jepson’s eyes, and the big brute dropped to the floor like a dead weight. The girl stood immobile, staring at the twisted shape at her feet as if unable to understand what had happened. Then, very slowly, she raised her eyes until they met the Phantom’s.
“You?” She spoke lowly, as if not quite recognizing him at first. Dazedly she drew her hand across her forehead. “Are you the Gray Phantom or——”
“I am the Gray Phantom. Don’t you know me—Helen?”