“Nothing,” she said, a hysterical catch in her throat. Of a sudden she seemed cold and distant, as if realizing that in telling her story she had betrayed too much of her feelings. “I fear there is nothing more to be said.”
The Phantom drew a deep breath. “I don’t blame you,” he said gently. “There are several black chapters in my past. But some day I’ll prove to you that I had nothing to do with this murder. I admit that just now the evidence weighs heavily against me. It is true there was something of a feud between me and Gage once upon a time and——”
“And the threatening letter,” she interrupted. “Why did you send it if you didn’t mean to kill him?”
“It was a forgery. I never wrote it.”
“Handwriting experts say you did.”
“I know.” He remembered having read in the newspapers that three experts had compared the letter with samples of his handwriting on file in the bureau of criminal identification, and that two of them had declared that the Phantom had written it. “That only goes to show that it was an exceptionally clever forgery, and experts have been known to differ before.”
“But Gage told the officer that it was you who stabbed him.” She spoke as if determined to hear his explanation of the damning bits of evidence even though every word hurt her.
“True enough. But Gage didn’t see me. He had the threatening letter in mind when he said that.”
“Nothing but the Maltese cross was missing, and you had had a quarrel with Gage about that.”
“True, too.” The Phantom chuckled bitterly. “If I had committed the murder I should have taken pains to carry away a lot of other things for a blind.” She was silent for a few moments. Footsteps were coming down the stairs, and the Phantom knew that the searchers would soon be in the laboratory. Again he found her hand, but she quickly drew it away.