A ghastly grin wrinkled the patrolman’s face. “Think so, eh? You newspaper guys think you’re pretty wise, don’t you? Well, what proof have you got?”
For answer the Phantom decided on a random thrust. He took a pencil and a sheet of paper from his pocket and, placing his pistol on a packing case, roughly sketched a ducal coronet. He held the design close to the patrolman’s eyes.
Pinto glanced at the sketch. With a hoarse cry he shrank back a step, but in a moment, by an exertion of will power, he had partly mastered his emotion. He guffawed loudly.
“Looks like a crow’s nest to me,” he gibed.
“You recognized it just the same, Pinto. Your face told me you did, so there’s no use denying it. You’re a member of the Duke’s crew. You had orders to kill Gage, and you did. It was fairly clever, too, the way you arranged things so suspicion would fall on—ahem, on the Gray Phantom. But the housekeeper somehow saw through you. She was wise to you. And so, fearing she might tell what she knew and send you to the chair, you killed her, too. Then——”
“You’ve got some imagination, you have!” jeered the policeman, struggling hard to maintain a grip on himself.
“Then,” continued the Phantom coolly, “you carried the body up here and hid it. Not a very clever move, but you were scared at the time, and people do queer things when they are panicky. You realized the Phantom couldn’t be blamed for the murder of Mrs. Trippe, for he was in jail when the job was done. Anyhow, everybody thought he was, which amounted to the same thing. You were in no condition to reason things out, and the only safe way out of the mess you had made seemed to be to hide the body. It would postpone discovery of the murder for a while and give you a chance to think. The hiding place you picked wasn’t a very good one, but it was the best you could find in a hurry.”
“Yeah?” taunted Pinto. “Been hitting the booze again, ain’t you?”
“No; I’m sober for once. Well, Pinto, after our little talk a while ago you were a bit worried. You knew someone would find the body sooner or later, and you thought things would look better all around if you were the one to find it. Anyhow, there was no reason for keeping it hidden longer after it turned out that the police had nabbed the wrong man and the Phantom had no alibi. I suppose if I hadn’t stopped you when I did, you would now be at the telephone reporting your discovery to the station house.”
As he spoke, the Phantom studied every change of expression in the other’s face. Pinto winced as if each word had been a needle prick, but he seemed to be drawing on a reserve force of fortitude, for his courage was rising rather than ebbing.