The Grove Of Doom s-37

by Maxwell Grant

  “Why is Jessup coming here?” demanded Wilbur suddenly.

  “Wilbur,” answered Zachary seriously, “you must always try to put yourself in the other man’s place - even when the other man is such a low form of humanity as our eldest brother Harvey.

  “What is our main purpose in life? To see that Harvey is disowned. Did you ever reason that Harvey might be gratified if we were disowned? Let us consider Lower Beechview as the enemy’s camp - with Harvey in charge and Jessup as his spy. In some way Harvey must manage to injure us. To do that, he must learn all that is possible. Wise enough to lie back, he lets Jessup do the preliminary work.”

  “And when that is finished?”

  “Harvey will open some negotiations. He will try some way to frame us. When he does, it will be our part to appear completely duped. Let him play his hand; then return with our trumps.”

  Zachary was on his feet now, leaning against the parapet of the terrace. He lighted a cigarette, and its glow showed bright in the deepening dusk. Wilbur could not see his brother’s face.

  “I wonder” - Wilbur spoke in a tone of partial bewilderment - “just what happened between Harvey and Pearson. More than that I wonder -“

  Zachary held up his hand for silence. He flicked his cigarette from the parapet. He stared toward the ground then gave a low whistle. A response came from short distance away and Zachary saw a man approaching through the gloom.

  “That you Hunky?” he asked.

  An affirmative growl sounded from below.

  “Seen anyone?” questioned Zachary of the man.

  “Nope,” said a gruff voice.

  “Look around a bit,” said Zachary in a low voice. “I thought I saw something like a shadow going over by those bushes. Use your flashlight and if you scare up that bird Jessup, let him get away without noticing him.”

  “O.K,” came the growl.

  Zachary waited while the inspection was under way. He could see the gleam of “Hunky’s” flashlight moving in and out among the bushes. At length the man returned to report from the ground that no one was in sight. Zachary dismissed him with a laugh. He turned to Wilbur.

  “You were saying?” asked Zachary.

  “I was wondering,” observed Wilbur from the darkness, “what happened to Walter Pearson. Someone must know about it. The way you figure it, his being gone is to our advantage. Harvey might figure it was to his advantage too, for that matter, because we’ve had a long time to work on that old lawyer.”

  “Good reasoning,” laughed Zachary.

  “Yes,” responded Wilbur, “but get back to my question. Who is it that knows what happened to Walter Pearson?”

  “You would like to know?”

  “Yes - if you can tell me.”

  Zachary Chittenden approached his brother. He laughed as he stood beside Wilbur. Then he spoke in a suave cryptic tone.

  “Mark these words,” said Zachary. “Mark them well; then ask me no more. There is a person who knows what happened to Walter Pearson; and the name of the person who knows is - Chittenden.”

  With that, Zachary clapped his brother on the shoulder and suggested that they go in the house. Wilbur followed, in perplexity. A light was turned on from within; its dim glow showed through the curtains of a closed window.

  A FEW moments later a vague splotch of black appeared upon the stone of the terrace. In the faint light from the window, the head and shoulders of a man appeared above the edge of the parapet. A figure dropped silently upon the terrace. It stood there, tall and spectral, like a being conjured from thin atmosphere.

  The Shadow, phantom of the night, was here. Unseen; undiscovered during the inspection made by Zachary Chittenden’s minion, he had risen like a ghost from outer darkness. He was no clumsy prowler like Jessup; he had come here while daylight still prevailed to listen to Zachary Chittenden’s revelations.

  A relentless foe of crime, The Shadow was ferreting every angle of the mystery which surrounded this portion of Long Island. He had passed through the grove last night; he had studied the features of Lower Beechview. Now he was present at the house upon the hill.

  Moving from the terrace, The Shadow’s silhouetted form merged with the side of the house. It reached the front and stopped, invisible, as a man came strolling along a path. This was Hunky, the gangster who patrolled the grounds. He went in through a side door and soon returned accompanied by Zachary Chittenden. The two men stopped only a few yards from where The Shadow’s shape had become a mass of blotted blackness.

  “Down by the side of the entrance,” growled Hunky. “That’s where I’ve spotted this guy Jessup. Thinks he’s sitting pretty I guess. I didn’t do nothing to make him scram -“

  “That’s the ticket Hunky,” said Zachary. “You go through the house. Keep away from that entrance until I tell you it’s O.K.”

  Zachary returned to the house accompanied by Hunky. A few minutes later, Zachary reappeared with Wilbur. The youngest Chittenden was subtly suggesting a short stroll to his elder brother.

  Wilbur did not demur. The two walked toward the entrance. Zachary was making no observations. He did not see the silent gliding shape of blackness that kept pace beside the driveway. No eye could have noticed The Shadow in the dark.

  By the entrance, Zachary gripped Wilbur’s arm, and spoke suddenly in a tone that was low, but clear.

  “By Jove, Wilbur,” exclaimed Zachary, “it would be great if one of us could walk in on Harvey - just to say hello and appear friendly.”

  “What!” responded Wilbur in astonishment. “Why, Harvey would go mad if -“

  “I hardly think so” objected Zachary. “Still” - he paused thoughtfully - “at least an invitation should come from him. Suppose you heard from him, Wilbur. You’d go over to see him alone, wouldn’t you?”

  “I guess so,” grumbled Wilbur. “Sure - I can’t see any reason why not.”

  The two resumed their progress. They passed the entrance, no longer talking.

  When they had gone fifty yards, there was a motion in the bushes beside the gate. Jessup’s gawky form slid momentarily into view and went out of sight behind some trees.

  Zachary and Wilbur returned, no longer talking. They went up the drive and into the house. It was then that a silent motion occurred opposite the spot where Jessup had been. The figure of The Shadow assumed its vague shape beneath the dim light of the moon, which was now filtering feebly through scudding clouds.

  Silent, ominous, The Shadow stood. From unseen lips came a low sound of shuddering, whispered mirth. It was the laugh of The Shadow - that weird, knowing mockery that characterized this strange unknown master of the night.

  The moonlight flickered, then brightened as the clouds spread apart. It shone upon the bare surface of the driveway.

  The Shadow was gone.

  CHAPTER VIII

  THE MIDNIGHT JOURNEY

  MORE than twenty-four hours had passed since Zachary and Wilbur Chittenden had held their talk upon the terrace of Upper Beechview. The day had been uneventful. The garage work at Lower Beechview had moved on toward completion. Lamont Cranston had spent a quiet day at the country club. Neither Wilbur nor Zachary Chittenden had moved from their house.

  Wilbur, as was his custom, had spent a few hours with the field glasses. He had seen Harvey and his wife upon the lawn of Lower Beechview, and had noted Craig Ware with them. He had seen Jessup superintending the job on the garage. Zachary had been in telephone communication with an attorney in New York. He had arranged an appointment at an early date.

  Now late in the evening, the two sons who lived at Upper Beechview were lounging about the big living room. Galbraith Chittenden was there also, dozing in an easy chair. The old man’s clean-shaven face was like yellow parchment, a noticeable contrast to his white hair. Neither of his sons seemed to pay the slightest attention to him.

  A telephone bell rang. Wilbur went to answer it. Zachary threw a glance toward Galbraith Chittenden and saw that his father had not heard the ri
ng.

  It was several minutes before Wilbur returned. The elder brother made a sign to Zachary. The two withdrew to an adjoining room.

  “It was Harvey,” said Wilbur in a tense low voice.

  “Oh yes?” questioned Zachary in feigned surprise. “What did he want?”

  “He talked rather abruptly,” declared Wilbur. “He said that he was very anxious to see me. He was rather cordial, and seemed to be worried about something. Of course, he naturally supposed that I might be surprised to hear from him so unexpectedly; but I listened well, and when he took on a pleading tone, I played up to it.”

  “Trying the big-brother stuff, eh?”

  “Not exactly, but to some degree. Maybe he thought I was going to hang up on him, but after our discussion of last night, I worked in with his line of talk.”

  “When does he want to see you?”

  “Immediately. He said that too many barren years have gone by; that he has something on his mind and would like to unburden it. I promised him that I would say nothing to you or the old man. Just a quiet visit - that’s all.”

  “Come out on the terrace,” suggested Zachary. “Let’s talk this over a bit more.”

  THE two men went through the living room. A huge police dog rose and followed them. The brute nudged its nose against Wilbur’s hand as the brothers stopped at the doorway to the terrace.

  “Go on back, Beowulf,” commanded Wilbur, and the dog obeyed with a short whine.

  On the terrace, Wilbur leaned over the parapet and stared toward twinkling lights across the blackened grove. Someone was still up at Lower Beechview, that was evident.

  “I hadn’t expected this,” observed Wilbur thoughtfully. “I guess if I had received the call a few nights ago, I might have refused. Then again, I might have decided to go down and see Harvey. He suggested that I come quietly - he is alone tonight - as every one else has gone to bed. He said that I could make it very quickly if I cut down the hill and across the golf course through the grove.”

  “Why not drive down?” asked Zachary.

  “I suggested that,” responded Wilbur, “and he explained the reason. The driveway to Lower Beechview has been cut off temporarily. It would be a long walk anyway. He talked as though he would like to come up here, but felt he couldn’t. With you and father here - leaving his wife alone - all that, you know -“

  “How did his voice sound?”

  “As much like Harvey’s as I could expect. I haven’t talked to him for ten years, Zachary. It just hit me, though, from his tone, that things might be settled better by seeing him than by not.”

  “Why?”

  “Well, the big-brother stuff was rather illuminating. He mentioned how much he liked Lower Beechview, how satisfied he was with life, how youthful ideas changed when men grew older. It gave me a distinct impression that he might be willing to pass up his share of the old man’s estate. That would be great - if it’s what he means. By the time I was through listening to him, I was all set to go, except for one reason.”

  “What was that?”

  “Your talk last night, about Jessup being a mobsman - the way you thought it best to protect this place. The idea of a coming battle impressed me, Zach.”

  “That means nothing right now,” declared Zachary. “Maybe I’m wrong - although I don’t think so. Perhaps Harvey has turned soft-hearted. On the other hand, this may just be a preliminary negotiation before real trouble starts. Under the circumstances, I’d go down there, if I were you.”

  “You would?”

  “Certainly. What can you lose? It will give you an opportunity to size up Harvey. It will be a friendly gesture on your part. If a show-down comes later on, we can convince the old man that you went personally to patch things up with Harvey. You know how much father wants a reconciliation brought about.”

  Wilbur nodded. This turn of affairs was promising. He agreed with Zachary. Still, he showed a certain reluctance about starting out alone.

  “I’m still worried about Jessup,” Wilbur began.

  “Forget it,” laughed Zachary. “I’ll fix that.”

  “How?”

  “Well, I’ll send two of these men of mine down there. I’ll let them skirt the woods and spot Harvey’s house from front and back. Nothing’s going to bite you at Harvey’s - not right away anyhow. If you want help, you know the signal.”

  Zachary emitted a low whistle. A minute later a man appeared beneath the parapet.

  “Hello Banks,” greeted Zachary. “Where’s Hunky?”

  “Over in the garage,” came the reply.

  “Go over there and wait until I call you,” said Zachary. Then after the man had gone, he said to Wilbur: “See how they work? Always on the job. If you need them at Lower Beechview, give a whistle.”

  “All right,” agreed Wilbur.

  AS though by agreement, the two men went down the steps from the terrace and walked across rough ground to the path that led down the hill. They knew the way perfectly, despite the darkness of the night. Zachary went part way down the hill; then paused to say good-bye to Wilbur.

  “Play the game, old top,” he said. “Don’t let Harvey kid you and don’t tell him you said anything to me. Remember, the eldest son in the Chittenden family gets the gravy. Keep that in mind.”

  “I’ll remember it,” laughed Wilbur gruffly. “If Harvey wants to give away his birthright, he’ll find a welcome recipient.”

  Moving down the hill, Wilbur Chittenden found himself thinking over what Zachary had said. He felt that he might strike luck when he talked to Harvey. Perhaps Harvey had made money; at least he was in sole possession of Lower Beechview. A deal tonight, whereby a real reconciliation would take place - that would fit in well with Wilbur’s selfish schemes.

  Strangely, Wilbur felt a strong inclination to meet Harvey. They had not seen each other for ten years. The one point that had ended their brotherhood was the matter of Harvey’s claim upon Galbraith Chittenden’s large estate. If that could be completely eliminated, why should Harvey and Wilbur be enemies?

  His own interests were Wilbur’s greatest demand in life; now that there was a chance to further them, he began to hasten on his way. He recalled Harvey as a boy - a patient long-suffering fellow who was not to blame because he was the pampered son.

  As he reached the border of the golf course, Wilbur was feeling in a friendly mood; then suddenly all his suspicions arose again as he tramped across the smooth lawnlike grass.

  In the midst of a surge of antagonism toward Harvey, Wilbur recalled Zachary’s last encouraging words: “Remember - the eldest son in the Chittenden family gets the gravy.”

  Harvey was still the eldest son; Wilbur could not forget it. If Harvey were eliminated, all would be well. Harvey, in turn, would inherit all if the younger boys were disowned. A curious complication.

  Wilbur paused at the edge of the grove. Just outside the pale of those fateful trees, he turned, intending to go back. He wanted to talk with Zachary some more.

  Zachary! A younger brother. Wilbur wondered, there in the clouded moonlight, why he had come to rely so much upon Zachary. He and Zachary were companions in a warfare for possession. Then, for the first time, Wilbur began to realize Zachary’s viewpoint.

  What would Zachary profit by Harvey’s elimination? Very little, for he would be the younger of two recognized sons. Until now, Wilbur had admired Zachary’s cunning; now he saw a craft in the man that he had not understood before.

  What if Zachary were the only son? What if Wilbur were eliminated as well as Harvey?

  The thought was a terrific shock to Wilbur Chittenden. It acted as a mighty spur to his doubtful mind. Why side with Zachary, from whom he could gain nothing of consequence? Why not team with Harvey, who might be induced to give up his rights?

  Talk with Zachary now? No thought could have been more repugnant to Wilbur Chittenden’s mind. His hesitation ended. He strode directly toward the grove with long, eager steps.

  UP on the hill, Zachary
Chittenden was watching his brother’s progress. He was standing still as he noted Wilbur’s hesitation. Then, when he saw Wilbur march into the black mass of trees, Zachary laughed. Perhaps some psychic wave had told him what was in Wilbur’s mind. Whatever the case might have been, Zachary appeared pleased when he saw Wilbur swallowed in that mysterious spread of darkness.

  Zachary Chittenden turned and went back to Upper Beechview. He found his father sound asleep in the chair. The big dog, Beowulf, looked up. Seeing Zachary, not Wilbur, the beast placed its nose between its paws.

  Entirely forgetful of his promise to send men who would be within range of Wilbur’s call, Zachary went upstairs to bed. Watching from his window, he could see the twinkling lights of Lower Beechview, toward which Wilbur Chittenden had gone.

  He could not see the sloping hillside, the spot where he had stood. Perhaps it was well that the area was out of view; perhaps, had Zachary been able to see it, he would have detected nothing. Nevertheless, someone was present near the place from which Zachary Chittenden had watched his brother enter the grove.

  A tall, eerie phantom had emerged from the darkness that enshrouded Upper Beechview to view the scene below. The Shadow had arrived from a tour about the grounds just after Wilbur Chittenden had reached the edge of the grove. He had stood beside Zachary. He had heard the youngest Chittenden’s dry laugh. He had seen Zachary return to the house.

  Now, with swift strides, The Shadow was descending the hill. Scurrying clouds erased the moon as the tall form stalked across the links. Then The Shadow, like Wilbur Chittenden, was buried in the weird grove among the trees that seemed haunted by day as well as night.

  Half an hour later, the shape of The Shadow reappeared, this time beneath a dull moonlight. The being in black stood upon the lawn of Lower Beechview. The lights of the lower house were extinguished. All was silence here.

  The phantom form moved silently about the grounds. Then, after a long and careful inspection, it approached the grove and became a still patch of black beside the darkness cast by the trees.