“You’re a rather poor sort, Bimble,” said the Phantom contemptuously. “There isn’t gold enough in the world to buy your freedom. To see you get your just deserts is worth more to me than all the millions the Duke and his gang ever stole.”
The doctor staggered back against the wall, utterly dejected. Of a sudden the Phantom’s expression of elation faded out and a worried look took its place. Where was Granger? The reporter had not been among those who had answered the doctor’s summons, and the Phantom had seen nothing of him since he left him chained to the wall in one of the upper rooms. Without doubt he had been released, for Bimble had said that a member of the gang had entered the room and found him shortly after the Phantom had started for the basement. His absence was somewhat disturbing, for the Phantom’s task would not be finished until Granger had been caught.
Admonishing Miss Hardwick to keep an eye on the gang, he walked toward the farther wall. In the corner was a door which he had not seen before. It was locked, but he guessed that it led to the cellar in which the doctor kept the gang’s treasures, and he noted that it was of hard and solid material and would resist almost any amount of pressure.
“Doctor,” he said, walking back to where Bimble stood, “I’ll trouble you for your bunch of keys.”
With an air of a broken and defeated man, Bimble complied, and the Phantom made sure that one of the keys fitted the lock on the door leading to the cellar. Keeping one eye on the gang, he gathered the weapons they had discarded and placed them on the cellar stairs. Then he carefully locked the door and put the keys in his pocket. Motioning Helen to precede him, he backed up the stairs, covering the huddled and dejected group with his pistol till he reached the top. Here was another door, almost as substantial as the one communicating with the cellar. They stepped through, and the Phantom closed it and turned a key in the lock.
“Our precious friends are trapped,” he remarked with a chuckle. “I’ll wager they won’t get out of that basement till the police drag them out. Now we must find Granger.”
Passing swiftly down the hall, they opened one door after another, glancing quickly into each room before proceeding to the next. Finally, on the floor above, they reached a door through which faint sounds came. For an instant the Phantom listened, then jerked the door open and entered. Taking in the scene at a glance, he drew his pistol.
“Hands up, Granger!” he commanded.
CHAPTER XXXII—THE OUTLAW
The reporter’s flushed face and the bottle at his elbow showed that he had been drinking. As the Phantom’s sharp command rang out, his nervous fingers dropped the revolver which he had been pointing at a lanky, dull-faced figure standing against the wall.