"Sure?" snorted Graed Garroway. "Of course, I'm sure! There is no such
thing as invisibility! My scientists have proven that time and time
again in laboratories. The fabled 'magic cloak' of invisibility is both
hypothetically and actually impossible. Where matter exists, there
must be either reflection, refraction, or occultation--"
The Princess yawned.
"I do not understand these high-sounding words," she said, "nor need I.
Because, you see, I have met the Galactic Ghost myself."
"Nonsense!" fumed her parent. "It was an hallucination you suffered.
Sympathetic reaction set up by nervousness. The medical examiner
testified--"
"Sometimes," interrupted the girl coldly, "you allow your
ultrascientific viewpoint to warp your better judgment, my father. You
talk nonsense! Could a nervous reaction account for the theft of my
jewels, or the shattering of my mirror?"
"I am not denying," protested Black Garroway stiffly, "that the ...
the Ghost visited you. Possibly he hypnotized you into believing him
invisible. As for your broken mirror, that might have happened in a
dozen ways--"
"The mirror was broken," said Lenore, "by the Ghost! Because I saw him
reflected in it!"
"Furthermore, it is ridiculous to assume--" The Emperor stopped
abruptly, his brow congealing--"Eh? What did you say? You saw--"
"I tried to tell you," purred the girl, "at the time. But you were too
concerned with the loss of my gems to listen to me. I told you I saw
the Galactic Ghost. He was a tall, dark-haired young man--"
"Ridiculous!" puffed Garroway. "More hypnosis!"
"--with crisp, curling hair," continued the Princess reminiscently,
"and a small, triangular scar over his right eyebrow. A very
interesting young man--"
* * * * *
Garroway had stiffened at her words, but this time it was with a
tensing of interest. He leaned forward.
"A moment, my dear. Did you say ... a small scar above his right
eyebrow?"
"Why, yes."
"A triangular scar? You are certain of that?"
"Positive. Why?"
"Because if you are right--" The Overlord left the sentence dangling;
strode to the wall audio and crisped sharp orders into its metallic
throat. Elsewhere in the palace a corps of underlings went into
action, collecting swiftly the information demanded by their master.
Within minutes there came a messenger, bearing a portfolio. This
Garroway pawed through, selecting a photograph which he handed to the
girl.
"Is this," he asked hoarsely, "the image you saw?"
The Princess Lenore took the photo, studied it, and nodded. "It is. I
remember him well. Who is he?"
Graed Garroway laughed. But now there was a touch of hysteria in his
laughter, and his deeprooted fear struck new depths as he answered.
"His name is Dirk Morris ... an underling."
"Dirk Morris," repeated the girl. "It is a pleasant name to the ears.
Well ... now that you know the identity of the Ghost, what are you
going to do?"
Garroway said slowly, "I am going to do ... nothing. Dirk Morris was
put to death almost three weeks ago. The ... the Galactic Ghost is a
ghost indeed!"
The girl smiled. "Perhaps," she said thoughtfully. "But a ghost with
very tangible body ... and impulses. And, if I am not greatly mistaken,
an Achilles' heel. Listen, my father.... I will drive a bargain with
you. For a certain price, I will deliver into your hands this threat to
your power."
"Price?" The Overlord stared at her bleakly. "What price do you ask?"
"The life," said the girl, "of the Ghost."
Garroway's brow darkened.
"Have you gone mad?" he demanded harshly. "His life is forfeit the
moment my men seize him!"
"But," pointed out the Princess Lenore sagely, "they cannot lay hands
on him ... without my help. Come, father ... I, too, can be ruthless
in getting that which I desire. Will you give me the man, Dirk Morris,
and put an end to these depredations? Or must your fortresses continue
to fall because of all on earth, I alone know how this phantom may be
caught?"
Garroway's cheeks were mottled with rage; for a moment it seemed he
might strike his own daughter.
"You ... you ingrate!" he husked. "You dare bargain with the System's
Emperor?"
"I dare bargain," taunted the Princess, "with my own father. And with a
badly frightened man."
Garroway fumed at the taunt ... but capitulated, as the Princess had
known he must do. He lowered his hands weakly.
"Very well," he said. "I give you your price. Now, what must be done?"
"This--" said the Princess. And for a long time two remarkably similar
heads, both in physiognomy and mentality, bent close together in
conference....