Mystery Of The Sea Horse Read Online Free

time. Why, even Interpol has contributed useful information."
"That material you were able to . . . borrow," Fulmer pointed out, "concluded Danton was not the man we seek."
"Interpol fails from time to time. My more thorough rechecking of some of their leads showed how Danton had been able to fool them."
Shaking his head, Fulmer said, "One thing which bothers me about you is your eagerness. You're too anxious to have Danton be the man we want."
Anderson smiled his calm smile. "Anxiety never enters into it. This is my job, my profession, and I do it well. That's all."
"Still, we have to be absolutely certain."
"Well, then, let's talk to Danton himself." He smiled more broadly. "It's really simple to get the truth out of a man, any man—even one such as he."
"It isn't simple, however, to get at him. He's usually out on the island, with guards, and dogs roaming loose at night. When he's in Santa Barbara there's usually a bodyguard somewhere in the background. I'm surprised that the girl he's courting hasn't noticed."
"Ah, the girl." Anderson removed his dark glasses to rub at his small blue eyes. "We might be able to use her."
"Diana Palmer? How?"
"Sometimes I think you're merely feigning innocence," Anderson told him. "If we had the girl in our possession and at a certain fixed point . . .
then it might be possible to lure friend Danton to that point."
"Yes, it might be," said Fulmer. "She's out on llial island with him right now, though."
"We can wait until she comes back." Anderson summoned their waitress, who was dressed like Bo peep, to refill his coffee cup.
     
    CHAPTER FOUR
The sleek black Alfa Romeo coupe hummed along the coastal highway. Twilight was giving way to night and the Sunday traffic had thinned considerably for the moment. A fragile white mist was starting to roll in from the direction of the ocean, spinning across the broad highway and dancing in the glare of the headlights.
The man at the wheel was alone in the low black sports car. He was wearing dark glasses and a belted raincoat. A good-looking broad-shouldered man. For the past three weeks, he had been in San Francisco, looking for a certain man. He had found him. The hunt had begun on the other side of the world in Bangalla; now it was over.
The Phantom took one hand off the steering wheel to turn on the windshield wipers. The fog was speckling the glass.
"It'll be good to see Diana again," he said to himself. "For a while anyway." Soon again he would have to return to Bangalla—to the Deep Woods.
The glistening black car drove on, knifing through the thickening fog. More and more cars appeared on the road as night came on and progress became slower. Eventually there were lights all around, glowing through the mist. Lights and shaggy palm trees and low tile-roofed buildings.
    "Last stop, Santa Barbara," said the Phantom.
    He guided the sports car up into the hills. He'
glanced at a map earlier in the day and was able to find Dave Palmer's house easily.
The Phantom parked the Alfa across the street from the big house. Fog seemed to enclose him as he slid out of the car, muffling him in silence.
Uncle Dave opened the heavy oaken front door few seconds after the chimes sounded. "Why it's the . . . it's Mr. Walker," he said, smiling. "Come on in, come in."
In the Deep Woods they called the Phantom The Ghost Who Walks. When he moved among other people he called himself Walker. "You look a little uneasy, Dave. Is Diana here?"
"No, she's not," said the girl's uncle. "Which is the reason I'm a little jumpy, I guess. Here, sit down. Can I take your coat?"
"I'll keep it on." The Phantom sat in the indicated chair, a big black-leather one in the center of the living room.
Pacing along the border of the rug, Uncle Dave said, "Really there's nothing to be edgy about, but—oh, by the way, what are you doing in California? Diana didn't say any—"
"I didn't know how long it might take me to do what I had to do," replied the Phantom. "So I didn't tell her in