The Golden Circle Read Online Free PDF

antique cash register, rich with Victorian filagree, was propped on a red painted apple barrel. The shop was empty of people.
The Phantom roamed the bare wood floor. He found a tray of pins set out on an iron-legged table. There were pins based on the signs of the zodiac, pins using Egyptian motifs and pins inspired by a variety of other symbols and signs. But there were no golden arrows on display, nor were any of the costume pins made of exactly the same gold alloy as the one in his suit pocket.
"I can see you," came a girl's voice. "In case you were thinking about pocketing something. Though, on second thought, you look too substantial for that."
The Phantom turned toward a curtained rear door to see a pretty black girl step through. She was tall, utmost five feet eleven, wearing a sleeveless orange |n scy and tan corduroy bellbottom pants. There was n gold pin at her left breast but it was not a golden arrow. "You're not Sweeney Todd," said the Phantom.
"You're very perceptive," replied the Negro girl as shecame nearer. "You always wear shades indoors?"
"Not always."
"Not that I don't know a lot of folks who do," said the girl. "You look too straight, though, to be one of that kind." She circled him, one hand on her chin, her elbow held in the other hand. "No, I'd say you were maybe in . . . well, maybe in communications. Except your hair isn't long enough and your tan's too good."
"I do a lot of outdoor work. What's your name, by the way?"
"Nita."
"Nita," the Phantom repeated. "Well, Nita, I'd like very much to talk to Sweeney Todd."
"Um." The pretty black girl looked over her shoulder at the old-fashioned Regulator clock mounted on one bare wall. "Not quite two o'clock yet. He's not even likely to be on his feet yet. And as to when he'll be dressed and presentable, who knows?"
"He lives on the premises?"
"Nope," grinned the girl. "Only me, me and a sizable army of cockroaches live on . . . the premises."
"I'm anxious to see him," the Phantom said, "on business. Business which could benefit him." "Don't tell me you're selling insurance or something?"
"No, I'm buying," he answered. "Could you give me his home address."
"Nope, no way." She had her chin on her fist again and was making another circuit of him. "Tell you what."
"What?"
'1 know for a fact exactly where Sweeney Todd'll be tonight," said the girl. "I can sell you a ticket."
The Phantom laughed. "Is he that tough to see, that I have to buy a ticket?"
"He's working on the committee for the Artists' & Writers' Charity Ball & Folk Rock Concert," explained the black girl. "That's going to be tonight, starting at ten o'clock over in the Westlake auditorium on Houston Street. Seven fifty for a ticket. This way you'll be sure to see him."
The Phantom took a ten dollar bill from his new wallet. "Okay, I'll try that, Nita."
"I probably will be there myself," she said as she pulled the bill from between his fingers. "Hey, and you'll need a costume."
"I think I can come up with something," the Phantom told her.
CHAPTER SEVEN
The big, domed room was filled with people, soft shadows, and splashes of pastel fight. Six' iron pillars rose up to the ceiling. From a narrow balcony festooned with giant posters and blown-up photos a light machine was snapping flashes of pale yellow, crimson, and underwater blue down on the mingling, roaming, dancing crowd of costumed people. The air was hazy, Viuiously scented.
The Phantom was in his tight-fitting costume and mask now. In the crowd of revelers at the charity function, he looked almost sedate and conservative. A sparsely clad jungle girl bumped into him, murmured, "Sorry, man," and drifted on to catch hold of I lie arm of a young man with a pumpkin for a head. On a dais at the room's far end, five young men writhed, struggling with their electronic instruments to bring forth a blues' tinged blare.
A gorilla fell against the Phantom, causing him to step into a group of two girls and a black man. The Negro was got up as a gunslinger.