Robert Wallace - The Black Ball Of Death

Havens reached for the buzzing telephone, listened a moment, and then spoke. “All right, I’ll tell him,” he said and then hung up. He looked at the Phantom. “It was Steve. He and Chip Dorlan located your Texas millionaire at the Surrey Plaza. It seems Mr. Hoag is prepared to go home soon, and they are waiting for you at the hotel. What’s this all about, Phantom?”

The Phantom arose. “Hoag is one of the victims. One of those they’ve worked on to take for a few thousand. I found his name at the factory. By operating through him, I may be able to land our man. Not Bernie Pennell, who makes the actual contacts and leaves me hanging out of windows, but the one who originally planned all this and used his own position to promote it.”

Havens wished the Phantom luck, and with something akin to envy, watched him leave. It was often difficult for Havens merely to sit and listen to the Phantom’s reports. He wanted to take a more active part in the everlasting fight against criminals.

THE Phantom met Steve Huston and Chip Dorlan at the hotel, then went with them to Douglas Hoag’s suite, and talked long and earnestly with the millionaire. When the Phantom had finished Hoag was enthusiastic about the whole idea.

“So they were going to trim me, were they?” he chortled. “Guess I haven’t lost my business sense, because I figured that Pennell hombre as a crook the minute I laid eyes on him! I may have a lot of money, and I may have got it an easy way. I may like to spend it in night clubs and be seen with glamorous girls, but I’m no fool. I had ’em sized up right.”

“What, exactly was the bait?” the Phantom asked, as though he didn’t know.

Hoag grimaced, no longer amused. “A new metal, invented by Dr. Winterly, stronger, lighter, and much cheaper than steel. They showed some convincing samples, but I told them I wasn’t ready to deal with them yet, and refused to put up any cash.”

“You were fortunate,” the Phantom said. “Apparently they intended to take you for plenty. Now, if you’ll call Bernard Pennell at the number he gave you, he’ll practically fly over here. Let him think you’ve changed your mind, and are ready to invest. He’ll have to work fast, before Dr. Winterly’s murder is made public. As soon as that happens; their plans are ended. They’ll do their best to make you the final sucker.”

Hoag made his phone call, hung up, and laughed heartily. “He fell for it hook, line, and sinker,” Hoag said. “Pennell is coming right over.”

“Fine,” said the Phantom. “Steve Huston and Chip Dorlan will take charge from here on. Steve, I want Pennell apparently to get away with it. But don’t lose him. I want to see to whom he’ll lead you.”

He left Chip posted in the lobby while Steve, armed with a gun, concealed himself in Hoag’s apartment. The Phantom didn’t stay around to see the end of that phase of the case. He drove to a Fifth Avenue apartment house, rang Park Sunderland’s apartment, and in a few moments was being admitted to the model agency owner’s quarter.

Sunderland wore a blue dressing robe and had apparently been indulging in a highball before retiring. There was a smile on his handsome face as he greeted the Phantom in a friendly and courteous manner.

“Glad to see you – come right in,” Sunderland said. “Vicki told me so much about this case that I’m highly interested.”

He led the way into a tastefully furnished living room. “And of course, I’m delighted to be of help to the Phantom Detective. Will you have a drink?”

“No, thanks.” The Phantom dropped into a chair as Sunderland seated himself opposite him. His manner was casual, and quite at ease. I’m here about Hugh Royal. I couldn’t ask you too much in front of Vicki, but I have reason to believe that Royal may be involved in this case. Can you help me there?”

“Hugh Royal?” An expression of amazement swept over Sunderland’s face. “Are you sure, Phantom? Royal always seemed like a quiet, decent chap to me. What makes you suspect him?”

“I set a trap,” the Phantom said. “And Hugh Royal walked right into it. His mere presence at the place I named was enough to convict him, though he claimed you had phoned to meet him there and then phoned again and canceled the date.”

Sunderland frowned, and reached for the half finished high ball sitting on a table close to his chair. He took a sip before he spoke again. “Of course that’s untrue, I didn’t phone him at all.”

“His story didn’t sound very convincing,” said the Phantom.

“I’m glad of that,” said Sunderland. “But I’m getting a new slant on Mr. Royal. I don’t like his involving me in this matter, Phantom. I might also add that he’s been endeavoring to see too much of Vicki.”

“But you know little about him?”

“Practically nothing. What of this man you spoke to me and Vicki about? Some crook you’d captured. Doesn’t he know Hugh Royal?”

“He hasn’t talked yet,” the Phantom admitted. “Of course, he will. We have no doubts about that, especially since he seems to have been left to take the blame alone. Frankly, I’m afraid I’m just wasting your time, Mr. Sunderland. I was hoping you might have been quite friendly with Royal and could provide some sort of a lead.”

“Afraid I can’t help you much on that.” Sunderland put his glass back down on the table. “I’d like to do it, of course, but I simply don’t know enough about Hugh Royal.”

The ringing of the phone at the other end of the room was loud and insistent in a little moment of silence. Sunderland rose and went toward the phone.

“Excuse me, please,” he said.

He picked up the phone, listened a moment, and then talked in such a low tone that even the Phantom’s keen ears could not distinguish the words. Then Sunderland hung up and came back to his chair, a thoughtful expression on his face.

“That was Hugh Royal,” he said slowly, as he sank down into the chair. “Judging from the way he spoke, he was excited and in a hurry. He asked me not to mention his name if anyone was here. He said he was leaving as soon as possible on an urgent business trip. He wanted to know if Vicki was here or where he could locate her.”

“You told him where to find her?” the Phantom snapped.

“Naturally.” Sunderland looked surprised. “Why not? After all they are good friends.”

“Don’t be so sure of that!” The Phantom got up quickly, his eyes fixed on Sunderland’s face. “If Vicki wanted Hugh Royal to know where she is now, she would have told him herself. I’m afraid you made a bad mistake in giving Royal her address, Sunderland.”

“But why?” demanded Sunderland. “I don’t understand.”

“Because Royal will murder Vicki if he gets the chance,” the Phantom said grimly.

“No!” Sunderland half rose from the chair, and then sank weakly down again. “And I gave him her address!” He wiped his hand across his forehead in a gesture of despair. “He’ll go there at once. What will we do, Phantom?”

“Don’t worry,” said the Phantom. “I’ll take care of it.” He moved hastily toward the door and then glanced back over his shoulder. “I can assure you that nothing will happen – to Vicki.”

Sunderland just sat there until he heard the door close behind the Phantom. Then he rose swiftly to his feet, went over to a window, drew the curtain back a trifle, and peered down at the street. He waited patiently until he saw the Phantom come out of the building, wave to a taxi, and get in when the cab stopped. The taxi rolled away and disappeared in the Fifth Avenue traffic.

“I really should have been an actor in stead of a business man,” Sunderland said as he turned away from the window. “I seem to possess quite a bit of dramatic ability.”