Sunderland walked rapidly through the doorway, crossed the sidewalk toward the sleek black sedan. He had almost reached it when something hard jabbed him in the small of the back, and he was sure it was the barrel of a gun.
“There’s no need to hurry, Mr. Sunderland,” said the voice of the Phantom. “You’re not going very far.”
Sunderland dropped the bags and whirled, his hand darting toward the gun in his coat pocket. He had the gun half drawn when he saw the Phantom standing a few feet away covering him with an automatic.
“That would be a foolish move,” the Phantom said. “In fact the action I’d expect from a guilty man.”
Sunderland quickly pulled his hand away from his pocket; the gun there untouched. He stared at the automatic in the Phantom’s hand.
“I don’t understand,” he said. “Why do you feel that you need a gun to stop me, Phantom?” A thought appeared to strike him. “Vicki! She’s all right? Royal didn’t kill her?”
Park Sunderland’s acting might have seemed convincing if Bernie Pennell hadn’t decided to make a break for it at that moment. Darting from the sedan, he had his gun out and firing. One of his bullets whistled dangerously close to the Phantom.
The Phantom sent a warning shot over Pennell’s head. Pennell backed away, and Chip Dorlan and Steve Huston moved in from front and rear to cut him off.
“We’ve got you, Pennell,” the Phantom called. “Don’t try to get away.”
For the moment the Phantom had taken his gaze off Sunderland, and that was all the chance the man needed. Throwing himself to the sidewalk Sunderland swept out his gun, triggering it at nearly point-blank range at where the Phantom stood.
But the Phantom was no longer standing there! One move ahead of Sunderland, the detective had lurched to one side even as the swindler was firing. One neat shot sent the gun spinning from Sunderland’s fingers. The man was at his mercy for a finishing shot, but the Phantom held his fire.
“I told you that Vicki was quite safe,” the Phantom said. “But I didn’t say that you were.”
Forced to the cover of a stone stairway Bernie Pennell saw what was happening to Sunderland. A single volley of warning shots from Huston and Dorlan were enough to convince him resistance was futile. He threw down his gun and came out, hands raised in the air.
“I give up!” Pennell shouted. “I’ve had enough.”
Steve Huston held his gun directly under Pennell’s nose and, at a nod from the Phantom, ordered the man back into the sedan he had just fled. Chip Dorlan covered the move.
Sunderland also got into the car. The Phantom tossed the two bags in the rear and climbed in. He seated himself beside Sunderland on the back seat. Chip Dorlan guarded Pennell. Huston took the wheel, and the sedan moved away fast – to disappear around a corner just as police rushed to the front of the apartment, attracted by the shots.
“Thank you for assembling all of the loot, Sunderland,” the Phantom said, nodding to the bags on the floor as the car sped downtown. “Pennell has more money which he got from Douglas Hoag. I imagine Pennell sounded very gratified over the phone when he called you, though probably disappointed when he learned I was there. He expected me to be dead by this time.”
“I’m beginning to believe you just can’t be killed, Phantom,” Pennell said sullenly. “How did you get back into that building?”
“We won’t go into that now,” the Phantom answered. “But I must admit, Pennell that you pulled a smart trick in using that spotlight which Sunderland had rigged up so that he could examine his models’ features under a strong light.” The Phantom turned again to Sunderland. “Of course I knew Hugh Royal hadn’t phoned. That was Pennell, saying things had gone off fine, that he had Hoag’s money, and everything was set for the pair of you to light out for parts unknown.”
“And back at my apartment I thought I was a good actor,” said Sunderland disgustedly. “You almost convinced me that Vicki really was in danger from Royal.”
“We’ll go to Police Headquarters, Steve,” the Phantom said.
“That’s where I’m going,” said Steve.
“Pennell, I think you’re a rather lucky man,” said the Phantom.
“You call being caught like this lucky?”
“In your case – yes. Because I think Mr. Sunderland was going to accept the money you conned out of Hoag, kill you, and make a neat getaway alone. Sunderland was certain everything was well in hand. That I didn’t suspect him, and I did suspect Hugh Royal and was on my way to get Royal before he could murder Vicki Selden. Of course I didn’t go very far, because I knew Sunderland was our man and not Royal.”
Sunderland tried a bit of bravado. “Phantom, I doubt you can prove anything against me. As a matter of fact, I didn’t know Pennell was a crook. I came here to meet him so I could invest some money in a wonderful new metal. He demanded cash, and that accounts for what is in the bag.”
“All that loot?” the Phantom derided. “By the way, if any of it is missing, we’ll know. Because I’ve a list of your models through whom I can locate your con-game victims and verify the amounts they lost. Your models unwittingly selected the victims. The victims were men they told you about, Sunderland. Those models of yours were unknowingly your best stock in trade for this con-game.”
Pennell didn’t seem to be listening. “Yeah – yeah, Sunderland had a gun,” he muttered, “and I never knew him to go heeled before. He wasn’t afraid of being caught. We both thought we were in the clear until tonight.” The dark man’s voice hardened ominously. “Yeah, he was going to double-cross me!”
“Keep quiet, Pennell!” Sunderland shouted. “Keep your mouth shut!”
The Phantom laughed. “It isn’t necessary to try and hush him up now, Sunderland. I’ve suspected you for some time. Ever since my first meeting with you when you helped me to locate Vicki Selden. When you learned that Maxine Hillary, one of your models, knew Vicki and where she was hiding, you sent Len Barker to trail her. Only you and I knew Maxine would contact Vicki. Certainly Len didn’t know – until you told him.
“Then you sensed the trap I set from the factory in New Jersey. Instead of falling into it, you sent Hugh Royal and Vicki to the hotel where one of your paid killers had demanded that you meet him. You thought I might be on hand too. Hugh Royal was trying to place Vicki with your firm, so he was eager to have you meet her, and they strolled into the trap. Then you phoned them, so they’d leave in a big hurry – to meet you elsewhere – and make it look as though Royal was tipped off and was running for it.”
Pennell had followed very little of this. He was still musing aloud. He looked back at the Phantom.
“I’m sure Sunderland was going to kill me,” he said. “I’ll talk if you guarantee I don’t go to the chair.”
“I promise nothing,” the Phantom said. “The chair is where you will undoubtedly land because you killed Arthur Arden and Dr. Winterly, to say nothing of the attempt on my life. Besides I don’t need your confession.
“Arden made a date to meet you at the Lake Candle lodge. When you found out he was wise to your scheme, and that he knew that Dr. Winterly wasn’t capable of inventing anything, you murdered him, got away across the lake in a stolen motor boat. You came back later, after Arden’s body had been found, to spy on me.
“Later, you took a few shots at me while I was rowing across the lake. You had a car parked on the other side, not far from Dr. Winterly’s place, and you used that to drive to New York in. But on the dock, you discarded an empty cigarette pack. You threw away another near the spot where you left your car hidden, and just a few minutes ago you dropped a third empty pack on the sidewalk. All three packs were twisted before being discarded. Twisted in exactly the same manner.”
“Sunderland made me kill Arden,” Pennell cried, all his courage gone. “He’d have killed me if I refused!”