Mystery Of The Sea Horse by Lee Falk Page B

right, miss," he told the struggling girl.
Suddenly he couldn't move. He struggled but he couldn't continue any further forward. The chair was wedged somehow among the support beams of the ceiling in the narrow hall.
"Come along, Fulmer," Anderson was calling.
"I can come in and give you a hand moving out," offered the policeman.
Fulmer thought he could hear fire crackling quite near, right on the other side of the thin rear door. "My god, I don't want to burn," he said. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry." Panicking, he let go of Diana's chair and ran away.
He joined Anderson and the two of them stepped out of the house. There was black smoke swirling all around.
"No personal property to take along?" asked the cop.
"We believe in traveling light," said Anderson, smiling.
The three of them began to hurry away from the little wooden house.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
The sound of burning—an enormous dry crackling and a great roar of flame—was growing louder all around. The Phantom parked the Alia Romeo on a side street and jumped out.
The sun was hidden by thick smears of smoke. The wind seemed to be carrying tiny tongues of flame with it. All along this narrow street, people were working at keeping their houses wet, hosing down the roofs.
A plump woman with a perspiring red face shook her head at him. "We're not going to make it, not enough water pressure. And the fire's corning too fast."
He was running hard uphill. When he neared the yellow barricades, the Phantom left the sidewalk and ran between two houses.
The patrolmen were too preoccupied to notice him. They were intent on clearing out the area, and it was still too early to worry about looters.
He jogged across a dry back lawn, vaulted a hurricane fence, and cut across the next palio.
All at once behind him, the small white house he'd just passed by burst into flame. The shingle roof first, then the whole house. Flame and smoke shot straight up into the hot afternoon sky.
The Phantom halted for a few seconds. He discarded his covering everyday clothes and then ran on, unencumbered, in his tight-fitting Phantom costume. He could make better time this way.
He ran by a small portable swimming pool, its surface flecked with black cinders.
The house Anderson was using should be up ahead now. The masked man was fast approaching the cul-de-sac.
He moved rapidly back toward the street.
A uniformed policeman was standing on the porch of the house, his back to the Phantom.
Then the front door opened wide, letting out two men.
One of them was the blond man the Phantom had encountered at Laura Leverson's cottage.
But Diana was not with them.
Turning, the policeman became aware of the Phantom striding toward the house. "What the hell?" he exclaimed as he reached for his revolver.
But the Phantom's twin automatics were already unholstered and aimed at the trio. "Where's Diana?" he said.
Anderson smiled calmly, raising his eyebrows at the cop. "Is this one of your people? I'm afraid I don't recognize the uniform."
The masked man was close to Anderson now. "Where is she?"
"Listen, buddy," began the cop.
The top of the house started to smoke, then flame began to eat at the wood and roofing paper.
"My god," said Fulmer, "she's—"
One of the automatics jabbed into the man's side. "She's where?"
Fulmer swallowed. "In there ... in the house. I couldn't help it. I had to leave her."
The masked man pushed him aside, holstered his guns, and dashed toward the house.
"What the hell is going on?" shouted the cop.
The Phantom's broad shoulder hit the door as he turned the knob. The door flapped open.
"Diana!" he called out. "Diana!"
The burning roof filled the house with a huge crackling sound.
The masked man hurried down the hall into the living room. "Diana, where are you?"
The room seemed to be empty.
Then there was a tapping from the rear hall.
There was Diana. She had worked one leg free and been able to kick at the wall when she heard him calling her name. "Oh, Kit," she said when he'd removed the gag. "They