The Grove Of Doom s-37 Page 5

  Peering through the moonlight, the girl watched the figure as it moved away from the shore, almost a portion of the blackness by the edge of the grove. Had she not seen the form before, she could not have seen it now. As it was, her eyes barely discerned The Shadow’s progress as the black-clad visitant neared the fence that marked the limit of Lower Beechview.

  Once again, the form of The Shadow was clear in the moonlight as it passed through the little gate. Then it was lost to the girl’s vision. The Shadow had gone as mysteriously as he had arrived.

  Mildred Chittenden sighed at the conclusion of the ordeal. She was too weak to leave this spot of security; at the same time, she was surprised at her own bravery. After the first fright, that black-clad shape had not seemed so ominous. Its departure left the girl wondering. To her amazement, she was doubting that The Shadow was a menace.

  Fantastic, yet so real that its presence could not be forgotten, the being in black had come and gone with no threatening gesture. To a certain extent, that somber form was more a guardian than foe. Mildred wondered if she had seen a ghost; if so, what its purpose could have been. Was some wandering spirit haunting this old estate?

  LONG minutes went by, while Mildred’s thoughts remained at a standstill. The girl sensed the passing of time; she knew, instinctively, that the spectral shape would not return tonight. Nevertheless, she waited here, calmly resting, her mind perturbed at times, at other intervals less fearful.

  At last, Mildred regained power of action. She started to rise from the bench; then stood transfixed at the sight of another living form. Where The Shadow’s shape had been mysterious and supernatural, this new specter was hideous and earthly. With tightened lips, Mildred shrank back upon the bench, knowing that she now faced danger.

  A creeping man was coming from the grove. His body bent almost double, he appeared more as a crawling creature than a man. He was moving stealthily, yet lacked the gliding motion that had characterized the approach of The Shadow.

  As the creeping man came into the moonlight, his face was visible above his close-fitting dusky garments. He had come from the grove at a spot quite close to the shore. Now, his head turned in each direction, and Mildred, slipping down upon the bench, could see his visage plainly.

  The girl was terror-stricken at the sight of yellow, pockmarked features, and evil, glinting eyes that stared almost directly toward her. She recognized that this creature was a Chinaman, his fiendish bearing and huddled arms indicated that he carried a weapon. Here was a human enemy, Mildred sensed.

  Had the yellow man spied her, she would have counted herself lost. But the Chinaman’s gaze did not light upon the girl.

  This creature that had materialized from the trees seemed intent upon reaching the shelter of the house. Satisfied that no one was watching, he scurried across the lawn, and huddled beside the porch. From that spot, Mildred fancied that she heard a thin, faint whistle - like a shrill, though guarded, hiss.

  The girl listened. A second sound came from somewhere. The Chinaman appeared upon the steps. He was entering the house!

  Now, despite her qualms, Mildred felt the necessity of action. The first spectral visitor had inspired her with awe; the present one filled her with alarm.

  Was the man bent on murder? Mildred could well believe it. She had feared for Walter Pearson when she had seen him go into the grove. Something must have happened to the lawyer. Now a physical menace had come from the grove; it threatened all who slept in Lower Beechview.

  Rising swiftly, Mildred hurried directly toward the house. She was ready to encounter the yellow-faced creature, confident that she would be able to give an alarm. Nevertheless, she restrained her steps as she neared the porch. From then on, the girl advanced cautiously.

  A living-room window was open. Mildred stole toward it, noiselessly. She could hear sounds from within. She listened.

  Someone was speaking a low, singsong voice - scarcely more than a piping whisper. There were breaks in the talk, as though the speaker were receiving replies from someone who spoke more guardedly.

  “Lei Chang do” - Mildred could hear only that statement; then mumbled words, and finally a strangely accented name - “Koon Woon - Koon Woon - Koon Woon -“

  At last the lisping talk concluded. Mildred heard someone moving in the darkened living room. She waited beside the window; then shrank behind a protecting chair as she saw, but did not hear, the front door open.

  THE Chinaman was leaving the house. As silently as he had come, the yellow-faced creature, more insidious at this close view, was hurrying back to the grove of trees. Watching through the rails of the porch, Mildred saw him scurry to the beeches; then his stooped form was swallowed by the darkness.

  Mildred was sure that more than conjecture made her realize that this wicked-looking monstrosity made his home among the beeches. But she could not divine why he had come into the house. Harvey, like herself, had been awake. Could he have been watching from the window to see this fearful creature?

  If so, how had he avoided an encounter? Horrified, Mildred realized the answer. She understood now why Harvey could have been staying awake so many nights. A rendezvous with this creature from the beeches! That could well be the answer!

  Mildred was more frightened now than she had been before. She would prefer to see her husband in grave danger than to imagine him in touch with such an outlandish monster. But the thought awoke terrifying memories within the recesses of her mind.

  Harvey had often spoken briefly of his trips to China and the Orient - of his acquaintances there - of the strange customs in the East. In some ways, Harvey had imbibed an Oriental philosophy for he had often spoken with unfeigned admiration of the Chinese and their methods.

  Lei Chang!

  Somehow Mildred sensed that such was the creature’s name. Who then was Koon Woon? Another man from China?

  Mildred could not answer these perplexing questions. She realized dully that now she was more anxious to be within the house than without. Her entire view had changed.

  Carefully, the girl entered the front door and ascended the stairs without making a sound. She stopped outside of Harvey’s room. She heard a few slight noises, but they were no proof that Harvey was still awake. He might have been tossing in his sleep.

  Craig Ware’s room was nearby. Before the door, Mildred could hear the stentorian breathing of the middle aged showman. Then she thought of Jessup. His room was in a wing at the back of the house. Mildred decided that she would not investigate there.

  Instead, she went into her own room and lay quietly in bed, seeking sleep. Each doze was interrupted. Once Mildred fancied that she heard someone moving in the hall; again, she imagined that whistled hissing; finally she was sure that she heard sounds on the other side of the house.

  Bravely the girl calmed these recurring fears and finally dropped off to sleep. Vague dreams perturbed her mind and frequently brought her to a waking point. In those dreams, she heard unexplainable noises, and caught the fancied gleam of a wicked, yellow face. But one impression triumphed over all these nightmares; that was the form of a tall being clad in black.

  Through her troubled sleep, Mildred could see this one apparition battling off the weird figures that surrounded her. The recollection of The Shadow predominated over all others. When morning dawned, the memory of that first phantom greeted Mildred Chittenden. From the confused recollections of the hectic night, she recalled the black-clad shape that had come from the mysterious grove.

  The thought of the tall, gliding form remained a warning in her mind. The recollection of The Shadow made Mildred feel that only beings of a superhuman mold could safely trespass upon the ground beneath the beeches where the yellow-faced menace dwelt.

  CHAPTER VII

  AT UPPER BEECHVIEW

  LATE the following afternoon, two young men appeared upon a terrace of the huge house on the crag above Long Island Sound. From this vantage point of Upper Beechview, they commanded a wide sweep of the terrain belo
w. The clubhouse of the golf course was obscured by a corner of the mansion; aside from that, every detail of the surrounding territory was visible in panorama.

  One of these observers held a pair of field glasses. In the dimming light, he made a careful inspection of the ground that lay between Upper Beechview and the grove; then his hands raised so that he could plainly see what was going on at Lower Beechview.

  The young man with the field glasses was Wilbur Chittenden; his companion was his brother Zachary. Their secretive actions indicated that this spying procedure was not a new custom. Evidently they had been practicing it for days.

  Wilbur Chittenden lowered the field glasses and uttered a growl of displeasure. Wilbur bore a marked resemblance to his elder brother Harvey, the present occupant of Lower Beechview. Only the pallor of his face - a sharp contrast to Harvey’s coat of tan - would have enabled an acquaintance to have told them apart.

  Zachary, while he possessed the Chittenden facial characteristics, was quite different in appearance. Harvey and Wilbur were tall; Zachary was short. Wilbur, like Harvey, was mature and self-possessed; Zachary had the face of a weakling. Nevertheless the youngest of the Chittendens was impressive in his shrewdness. His physiognomy denoted the schemer; a malicious smile was constantly upon his lips; and he bore himself in domineering fashion.

  Of the two, Wilbur would have been the more formidable in physical combat, but Zachary appeared to be the cleverer.

  “Nothing important down there, Zach,” growled Wilbur. “It riles me to think that the beastly cad is living so close to us. I had hoped that he was gone to stay.”

  “Yes?” questioned Zachary with an ugly laugh. “You’re counting too much on hope, Wilbur. Now that Harvey is back, you can be sure that he is here to stay - and we might as well make the best of it.”

  “Make the best of it?”

  There was a significance in Wilbur’s echo that showed he had caught the import of his younger brother’s words. Zachary laughed again and sprawled himself in a reclining chair below the high parapet of the terrace. Wilbur seated himself and looked dubiously toward his brother. It was plain that he expected Zachary to offer some sound advice.

  “LISTEN, Wilbur,” declared Zachary. “While you’ve been spending your time looking through those glasses and cursing to yourself, I’ve been doing some constructive thinking. More than that, I’ve been acting.”

  “How?”

  “In a very efficient manner. Following hunches - using my head as well as my eyes. Figuring how the present situation can be turned to our advantage.”

  “I don’t see anything to our advantage,” protested Wilbur. “Harvey is back. Pearson has walked out of the picture. There’s no way for us to work things the way we want them. Harvey will patch matters up with the old man and that will be the end of it.”

  “Yes?” Zachary’s tone was sarcastic. “Well, Wilbur, I was younger than you when Harvey went away. You were the chief cause of his going. I helped to make matters unpleasant for him, but at that time, I followed your lead. Now that he is back, it is my turn to do the heavy work.”

  Wilbur Chittenden nodded. He was a stubborn fellow, who held an intense hatred toward his favored brother Harvey, but Wilbur was unquestionably blunt in method, and he recognized Zachary’s subtle superiority.

  “Wilbur,” said Zachary, in a low tone. “I’ve been preparing for trouble ever since I knew that Harvey was coming back. I didn’t tell everything to you, because I wanted to watch developments. But you can believe me when I tell you that affairs are turning favorably to us. There’s just one factor that you have failed to consider.”

  “Which is -“

  “That Harvey is a Chittenden - just as set in purpose as the rest of us. He has come back here looking for trouble. He is going to find it, and that will prove his undoing.”

  Wilbur Chittenden was listening intently; but his impatience showed itself in his next words.

  “Trouble for Harvey?” he demanded. “I can’t see how that is developing. We have tried to convince the old man that he ought to cut off Harvey, but he always insisted that there would be a reconciliation. He sent Pearson to arrange it and Pearson didn’t get far, I’ll admit. But now” - Wilbur paused speculatively - “just where is Pearson? How can we work on the old man while his lawyer is missing?”

  “Pearson,” responded Zachary calmly, “was our greatest obstacle. He represented the family for years. He was a stickler for precedent. He had no luck when he tried to make friends with Harvey. That proved my point - that Harvey is short-tempered. But Pearson would be keeping on with his friendly efforts still - except for the fact that Pearson is no longer here.”

  “I’m puzzled about that,” persisted Wilbur.

  “Why be puzzled?” questioned Zachary softly. “Why should you care? It has left us the opening that we need. You knew how fussy our esteemed father has become. He’s worrying night and day about Pearson. He has lost confidence in a lawyer who departs for places unknown.

  “That, in my mind, is very much to our advantage. Before Pearson returns” - Zachary smiled shrewdly - “if Pearson ever does return, Galbraith Chittenden will have a new attorney. I have arranged for that.”

  WILBUR clapped his fist upon his open hand. He was unrestrained in his admiration of his brother’s craftiness.

  “A great idea, Zach!” he exclaimed. “We get the new lawyer in; then we start again about the will. Our man sides with us. The old man capitulates. Harvey will be cut off - with only Lower Beechview in his grasp.”

  “Exactly,” returned Zachary. “Galbraith Chittenden will have two sons - Wilbur, the elder; Zachary, the younger - just as we have so often planned it. Provided that Harvey helps.”

  “That Harvey helps?” asked Wilbur incredulously.

  “Certainly,” said Zachary. “He began to help when he antagonized Pearson. That was not sufficient. But with our lawyer on the job, all that remains is for Harvey to clash with us as he did with Pearson. That will turn our father’s mind completely against him.”

  “Very good,” said Wilbur. “Very, very good. You are getting there, Zach. But what is going to start all this strife? As far as I can see it, Harvey never leaves Lower Beechview. There has to be a cause of war, you know.”

  “There already is a cause,” said Zachary, in a confidential tone. “If you spent less time admiring Harvey’s bride through those glasses, and looked over some of the other people on the place, you might know more than you do now.”

  “The others?” asked Wilbur, in surprise. “You mean that middle-aged bird who came on ahead to watch the workmen - Craig Ware, I heard his name is - the one who sits around all day -“

  “Not Ware,” said Zachary, with an evil smile. “I’m thinking of the gawky gentleman in overalls - the chief workman. He lives at Lower Beechview, too. His name is Jessup. ”

  “Jessup?” quizzed Wilbur. “How did you find that out?”

  “I’ve looked him over uptown,” said Zachary. “I’ve seen him other places, too. Particularly, around here.”

  “Around here? You mean that Jessup is spying on us?”

  “Exactly. But I haven’t stopped him. He’s a good snooper, that fellow. I’ve seen him watching you; I’ve seen him watching me; but I haven’t let on.”

  “How did you learn about him? What is he?”

  “A pretty tough customer,” said Zachary. “He used to do contracting work, out West. That’s probably where Harvey met him. He came East, went broke, and tied up with a racket. New York City isn’t such a healthy place for Mr. Jessup, right now.”

  All this appeared to be surprising news to Wilbur Chittenden. He stared open-mouthed at his brother and waited for further information. Zachary took his time in divulging. He liked the effect that he was creating.

  “I’m no simple-minded soul,” declared Zachary. “Long Island Sound is a mighty profitable place for racketeers, especially when the rum-running is in season. Those boys like to know the home folks. I’ve m
ade a few useful acquaintances.”

  Wilbur nodded. Zachary had said something of this before, but Wilbur had paid but little attention to it. Now, however, with a Harvey Chittenden connection, Wilbur could see where Zachary’s questionable friends might play a part.

  “Gangsters,” resumed Zachary, “are easily spotted by those who know them. I figured this fellow Jessup was more than a mere workman. So I pointed him out to some of the - some of my friends. They recognized him. It looks very much as though those workmen who are with him are others of his same kind.

  “Now what is Jessup’s purpose? He’s working for Harvey. Retired from the phony racket business? Perhaps” - again Zachary’s tone became ironical - “and perhaps not. If Harvey anticipates trouble” - again the sarcasm - “or if Harvey is making trouble, Jessup would be mighty useful to him.”

  “What are we going to do about it?” asked Wilbur anxiously.

  “You mean,” returned Zachary, “what have I done about it? Well, brother Wilbur, while you have been mooning through your glasses and father has been doing nothing, I have been attending a bit to affairs on Upper Beechview. For one thing, I have hired some extra help.”

  “Three men, yes,” agreed Wilbur. “I didn’t see why we needed them around the place, with two hired men already on the -“

  “That,” interposed Zachary, “was because you did not know the vocation of our new employees. Like Jessup, they are tough gangsters - temporarily retired. There are others available if necessary, should emergency arise.”

  WILBUR CHITTENDEN whistled softly. He realized now the purpose of these extra hired men, whom his brother had employed ostensibly to look after the widespread estate. They had impressed him as rowdies when they had first arrived. Zachary had arranged quarters for them in the garage, where they slept at night.

  “Someone is always on duty here,” remarked Zachary. “That is why Jessup has been seen on his brief excursions. But Jessup has not in any way been molested nor will he be.”