“Stop!” commanded a voice as he swung into Houston Street. The Phantom halted and smiled impudently into the face of a plain-clothes man who emerged from a dark doorway to look him over.
“Oh, Granger,” muttered the officer disgustedly after a glance at his showy attire and a sniff of the whisky with which the Phantom, making use of the reporter’s bottle, had prudently scented himself. “Sober for a change, I see. Where do you get the stuff, anyhow?”
“That would be telling. Any news of the Phantom?”
“Naw! We thought we had him a while ago, over at a Third Avenue L station, but he blew away. I s’pose you’re out to nab him and get a scoop for that yellow rag of yours.”
“Maybe,” said the Phantom cheerfully. “It would be quite an event in my young life. I’ll be on my way, if you’re sure you don’t want to take me to headquarters and get another sample of my finger prints.”
“Aw—beat it!” muttered the detective, touched in a sore spot. The Phantom chuckled and moved on. His new rôle promised to be amusing as well as profitable, and the ease with which he had passed the first test gave him added confidence. Twice within the next fifteen minutes he was stopped and questioned, only to be dismissed with a disgusted grunt or a facetious remark.
As he crossed the Bowery a stocky figure in patrolman’s uniform appeared around the corner and moved down the street a few paces ahead of him. After studying his gait and bearing for a few moments, the Phantom knew it was Officer Pinto. He slackened his pace and followed, stepping softly so as not to attract the policeman’s attention.
Pinto’s steps faltered as he approached the middle of the block, and he walked with a shuffling and uncertain air. Finally he stopped, and the Phantom thought he was gazing at a window directly in front of him. He tiptoed a little closer, and now he saw that the building on which the officer’s attention was fixed so intently was none other than the murky and silent structure that had been occupied by Gage and his housekeeper.
The policeman drew a little closer to the window, then stood rigid and motionless, as if the building were exerting a peculiar fascination upon him. At that moment the Phantom would have given a great deal to know what was going on in the mind of the man he was watching. He could make a guess, but guesses were unsatisfactory. At length the officer shrugged his shoulders, as if to shake off something that oppressed him, then tried the lock in matter-of-fact fashion and moved on down the street.
The Phantom hastened after him. He was no longer trying to avoid detection, and his footfalls sounded clear and sharp in the quiet street. The policeman stopped, looked back, and peered sharply at the oncomer.