Robert Wallace by The Phantom Detective Fangs of

Author:The Phantom Detective Fangs of [of, The Phantom Detective Fangs]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter IX "CHOPPY" INVESTIGATES

STARTING, THE GIRL WHIRLED. Her delicately featured, oval face showed whitely beneath auburn hair. For a moment she was confused, frightened.

Then she saw the vague figure standing in the gloom.

She stepped closer. But Van kept his slouch-hatted head down so she could not see him clearly.

"You came--" she almost questioned in a taut voice. It was impossible to tell from her tone whether she was grateful or not. But evidently she assumed he was the Phantom, for her words rushed on:

"You must not try to detain me. There is one thing I must tell you. It's about Al Millett--"

"Yes?" he prompted as she hesitated, his voice non-committal.

Her words came out passionately now; "Al Millett is not the fiend the police think! He was just a good actor--that's all! A charlatan, call him!"

Van's eyes narrowed. How did this girl--who could not be more than in her early twenties--talk so surely about Al Millett? And her voice was desperate, pleading, he noticed.

"You must believe me," she almost sobbed. "You must not hunt him down like a rat."

As she spoke she was shaking her purse, a white purse that gleamed in the light. It might have been purely nervousness, but on the other hand--"You and the police are wasting time seeking Al Millett. He isn't--"

The Phantom moved with the speed of lightning!

He had felt, rather than heard, the stealthy steps on the pavement. Now he saw dark shadowy figures, saw automatics whipping up toward his own figure.

Instantly he leaped past the girl, directly into the light of the street-lamp which shone upon his made-up face!

He knew that at that instant he was closer to death than he had ever been before. He knew that if his disguise were imperfect, if there were any flaw--Behind him now he heard the click-click of running high heels. The girl--running away! But he had no time for her now. Those revolvers were leveled right at him.

Then, "Hold it, guys! Hell, it's Choppy!" snarled the voice of Monk Gorman.

VAN NOW TURNED AROUND in feigned surprise which hid his relief. He saw the big, slickered gang leader coming forward with lowering gun. Saw the broken-nosed Gus, the pallid-faced Tony, and one other capped thug.

"Sure, it's me!" he answered, simulating perfectly the husky voice of Choppy, though he had heard it but briefly. "Who the hell did you think I was?"

The girl had vanished now. She was nowhere in sight.

Monk Gorman cursed. "What the devil you doin' out here, Choppy? Your orders was to wait in the house, so when that Phantom guy came--"

"Choppy was talkin' to the dame!" Gus put in.

"Sure, I was," Van returned. He knew he was on delicate, perilous ground now. For he still couldn't tell whether the girl had deliberately signaled these gunmen or not. "She stopped me and begun to talk. I'd come out--to see why the Phantom guy hadn't showed up," he said, with clever ambiguity.

"Okay, okay, forget it!" growled Monk Gorman. "So th' Phantom didn't fall for th' dame's gag, eh?"

"Maybe that blast really got him last night," Gus suggested.

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