“That’s a good hunch. I’ll follow it up. I’ll get your man, be it one or the other.
“And Johnny,” the girl’s tones became almost solemn as her thoughts returned to her missing father, “you must not forget your share of the contract.”
“I will not forget. For the sake of Newton Mills and his wonderful daughter, I will not.”
The girl flushed. Nevertheless, she put out a hand, and they entered into a handclasp that was the seal of a pledge.
Then the tall, slim, dark-eyed daughter of Newton Mills, keen as a razor and hard as steel, marched down one rickety stairway and up another, and was gone.
Half an hour later it was quite dark. Johnny as he sat there alone with no lights, thought he heard those rude stairways creak. Creeping noiselessly to the window, he looked out. The light was very uncertain. But through the shadows he saw a tall figure, dressed all in gray, pass up one stairway and down the other. This the figure repeated twice, then vanished into the night.
“The Gray Shadow passes,” Johnny murmured, then shuddered, he knew not why.
CHAPTER XXVI
THE RISING TIDE OF ANGER
Each night found the Voice at the microphone. Ever faithful to the task set before him, he denounced in no uncertain tones the ways of a city too long sold body and soul to vice and corruption.
Night after night the station phone rang, and angry people demanded to know who this Voice was. The answer was ever the same: “No one about the station knows the answer to that question. This is a regularly incorporated station. Our business is that of selling time on the air. This hour has been paid for. We are not permitted to tell who pays for this time. The broadcast comes in by remote control. We have no notion where the speaker may be reached.”