“Lemme go! I’ll show ’em they can’t treat me that way. Lemme go, I tell you! Hey, cabby, reversh the current.”
Granger sprang from the seat, lurched against the side of the cab, and would have hurled himself against the pavement had not the Phantom jerked him back. The drunken man lunged out with arms and legs, but he subsided quickly as he felt something hard pressing against his chest.
“Cut out the nonsense!” The Phantom spoke firmly and incisively. “I have you covered, and I won’t stand for any foolishness.”
The touch of steel against his ribs seemed to have a sobering effect on Granger. For a few moments he stared sulkily at his companion, then he settled himself against the cushion, and his mind appeared to be groping its way out of stupefying fumes. The cab was pursuing a zigzagging route through crooked and dimly lighted streets, the jehu having been instructed to drive at random until he received further orders. The Phantom’s mind worked quickly while he pressed the pistol against his captive’s chest. A new problem confronted him. He had kidnaped his man, but where was he to take him? The logical answer was Sea-Glimpse, but the trip would consume too much time, to say nothing of the risks involved. Doctor Bimble’s house? The Phantom shook his head even as the idea occurred to him. The anthropologist was too erratic a man to inspire confidence, and the Phantom needed someone whom he could trust absolutely.
Presently he felt Granger’s eyes on his face. The cool night air, together with the steady pressure of the pistol, was rapidly driving the alcoholic vapors from the reporter’s brain, and now he was subjecting his captor to a blinking, unsteady scrutiny, as if he were just beginning to suspect that something was amiss.
“Is this a pinch?” he asked, his tones still a trifle thick.
The Phantom laughed. “No, Granger. I’m not an officer. Besides, why should I be pinching you?”
“For being drunk and disorderly and carrying a bottle on my hip.”
“Those heinous crimes don’t interest me. Anyhow, I understand journalists are more or less privileged persons. I am merely taking you to a safe place, where you won’t go around insulting people and getting your head smashed.”
Granger fell into a moody silence, and the Phantom thought he detected signs of a growing uneasiness about his captive. Evidently the period of depression that follows artificial stimulation was already setting in. Because of the darkness and his befuddled state of mind, the reporter had not yet recognized the man at his side, but his gaze was taking on a keener edge and would soon penetrate the thin disguise afforded by the mustache. The Phantom felt the need of a quick decision.