The Phantom smiled. “I believe there are several outstanding charges against myself,” he observed. “To arrest the Gray Phantom would be almost as big an achievement as the rounding up of the Duke’s gang.”
Culligore seemed to hesitate. “Well,” with a broad grin, “I suppose I ought to pinch you, but my leg still hurts a bit and you can run a lot faster than I can. Anyhow, I’ll get plenty of credit as it is. You two might as well go away. I’ll wait ten minutes before I telephone headquarters.”
“Thanks, Culligore.”
He gripped the lieutenant’s hand and held it while each man looked the other in the eye. Then he turned and led Helen from the room. In a little while they were out on the street, and her face brightened as the morning breeze fanned it. The Phantom hailed a passing taxicab.
For a time they sat silent, and there was a touch of reverence in the Phantom’s attitude as he gazed at the girl.
“Helen!” he whispered.
The soft brown eyes looked into his own.
“Gray Phantom!” she murmured.
He found her hand and held it. “It was a great adventure—the greatest of my life. Who would ever have dreamed that the Gray Phantom would go to such extremes to clear himself in the eyes of a girl?”
She looked up again, and there was a warm, misty radiance in her eyes.