“Oh, I spotted you easily enough,” was his answer. “I suppose you have heard of me. I am Thomas Granger, of the Sphere.”
The other gave a slight nod. A faint grin creased his face. “I’ve heard of you, all right. On the day you were pinched, they tell me, you had the beautifulest jag on that’s been seen in this town in many a day. Why don’t you put a fellow wise to your source of supply?”
“I may,” with a knowing wink, “if you promise not to jug me again.”
“Well, you needn’t rub it in, Granger. You look a lot like the Gray Phantom. If you didn’t have those glad rags on, I wouldn’t be able to tell the difference. I never met the Phantom face to face, but judging from his picture I should say you’re as much alike as two peas. By the way, my name is Culligore—Lieutenant Culligore.”
The Phantom repressed a start. He had seen the name in the earlier newspaper accounts of the murder and remembered that Culligore had been one of the detectives assigned to the case. He wondered whether it were possible that he and Granger had not met while the reporter was getting the facts of the tragedy for his paper. The detective’s face showed no sign of suspicion, but the Phantom noticed that he had an odd habit of rubbing his upper lip against the tip of his nose, and the little mannerism impressed him as significant of deep and devious mental processes.
“That reminds me!” he exclaimed suddenly, as if just recalling something. “There’s been a brand-new murder committed over at the Gage house.”
The detective lifted his brows.
“I was snooping around, hoping to find some new twist to the case,” explained the Phantom. “In a storeroom on the second floor I found the body of the housekeeper. She looked as though she had been dead a good many hours. Pinto is lying on the stairs with a bump on the back of his head, and he’s handcuffed to a little shrimp that looks like a dope fiend.”
Lieutenant Culligore stared as he heard the strange report. “Been drinking again?”
“Go and see for yourself.”