The Grove Of Doom s-37

by Maxwell Grant

  All seemed so confusing; yet Mildred was afraid to voice her fears, and to tell what she had seen for fear of disturbing Harvey, who was already in a troubled state. He was on his feet now, pacing up and down the floor. At last he left the room without a word and went upstairs.

  Craig Ware, puffing steadily at his pipe, would have been a good confidant for her fears; yet Mildred hesitated to speak to the kindly-faced showman. She realized that Ware felt great concern over Harvey, that his visit here was being extended purely through friendship. Why trouble him more? After all, her worries were vague ones. She had marked no recurrence of those disturbing events. Mildred felt a secret relief to know that the house was carefully guarded now.

  “I hope matters will adjust themselves,” declared Mildred bravely. “If Harvey’s worries would only cease, we could really enjoy it here. It has been a shame, Craig, to spoil your vacation with all these troubles.”

  The showman laughed and tapped the burned tobacco from the bowl of his pipe.

  “No trouble to me,” he said. “I’m glad to be around, Mildred. I’m running up to Connecticut tomorrow to talk with the owners of an animal show. I’ll be away one night, but after that, I can stay as long as I’m needed. In a way, I don’t like to leave Harvey for a single day - because something might happen that would need my immediate assistance.”

  “Jessup is here,” Mildred reminded him. “Also his workmen.”

  “Yes,” agreed Ware, “and Jessup is a reliable man. I don’t know about the others, though they are capable workers.”

  “Jessup is raising rabbits,” laughed Mildred. “Big ones, too - off in the rough ground behind the new garage. He was boxing some of them this afternoon. He said that he was shipping them away, and that better ones were coming to replace them.”

  “Jessup is a man of many parts,” smiled Ware.

  A CLOCK chimed eleven. The showman decided to retire. He went upstairs, and Mildred followed a few minutes later. She could hear Harvey, still awake in his room.

  The girl went to her own room, and donned a dressing gown. She turned out the light and rested in bed, sleeplessly staring through the window at the moonlight, her mind revolving in endless thought.

  The clock downstairs chimed twelve. More minutes passed; still, Mildred could not sleep. Something impelled her to go downstairs again. She crept softly from her room and descended; then went out on the porch. The sight of the bench over by the shore made her realize why she had come here.

  Tonight was very much like the other night when she had watched the lawn and the grove from that secluded bench. Why not watch again tonight? If she could see nothing, her vague fears would be allayed; if new specters should appear, she would be able to study them more carefully and to report at length to Harvey in the morning.

  Mildred went across the moon-bathed lawn, and reached the little bench. She rested there, watching, while long, placid minutes slipped by. The moon overhead was very nearly full. Its influence seemed powerful to Mildred. Could this moon be responsible for the strange phantom that she had seen?

  Looking off toward the grove, Mildred saw lights far above the blackened beeches. Someone was awake in the house upon the hill.

  Had Wilbur Chittenden returned?

  Mildred shuddered. She thought of the grove. Walter Pearson had entered it; so, according to report, had Wilbur Chittenden. Last of all, Galbraith and Zachary had gone into that weird place. She looked toward the edge of the trees and - as on that other night - her whole being seemed to freeze.

  From the grove a figure was emerging - the form of the crouching Chinaman, Lei Chang. The whole scene seemed like a grotesque flash-back to the former episode. The stooped man was moving toward the house. His pockmarked face shone yellow in the moonlight. The evil-visaged Oriental seemed more hideous than before!

  The Chinaman stopped beside the house. He emitted his low, weird whistle. It was answered. Up the steps went Lei Chang. He silently entered the front door. Once again, Mildred followed and found her listening post beside the open window.

  “Koon Woon - Koon Woon” - Mildred shuddered at the lilting tone she heard. “The Master - soon he will sleep. He will do more work - but he must sleep.”

  An unheard response; then came an affirmative approval from the Chinaman.

  “One week - yes - velly good. One week for The Master to wait. Velly good. Velly hungry tonight, though. Lei Chang must be good to The Master.”

  Another pause; then Lei Chang added:

  “Lei Chang bringee out. Leave where he find samee Koon Woon need. The Master he do work; Lei Chang see he getee what he need. Velly good.”

  Through the door came the sinister yellow man. Mildred, hiding, watched him go back across the lawn. Then, after a long pause, she crept into the house and listened at the stairs. She was positive that she could hear Harvey moving about.

  WITH trembling nerves, Mildred forced herself to go back to the lawn. Again she sought the bench from which she could so safely watch. She looked toward the house, and out in back, she spied a moving figure. At first, she thought it might be the black-clad, shadowy phantom. Then she recognized the fact that it was a tall man.

  Harvey?

  Mildred could not tell.

  Jessup?

  The girl was not sure. The man was stooping, and now he seemed to be lifting a burden which was hidden by the blackness. The man was going to the grove!

  Scarcely had the man entered the shadow of the trees before Mildred glanced above the woods and noted that the lights had been extinguished at Upper Beechview. Did this fact hold significance? Could someone - Lei Chang perhaps - have come from there?

  No - somehow, Mildred was sure that the pock-faced man dwelt within the grove itself.

  Now the tall man was coming from the trees. His form was very vague as he hurried back to the house. He went out of sight in back. Then Mildred was surprised to see him come up out of the ground beside the building. For a moment the girl gasped; then she realized that the man had been in the cellar, and was coming through a door that led to the lawn. Again he moved swiftly toward the trees and Mildred was still confused as to his identity.

  She expected the man to reappear; and he did, struggling with a new burden, a large, compact sack that he carried on his shoulders. He went into the cellar with this load and Mildred suddenly realized that this must be the exchange of which Lei Chang had spoken. Something had been taken to the grove; something had been brought back from it.

  Mildred became suddenly conscious that she was not the only one who had watched this strange procedure. Her eyes were drawn automatically to a spot close to the grove. There, she saw the sight that made her tremble - not so much with fear, as with tense anticipation.

  Close to the shadow of the beeches stood the tall being in black. Once again Mildred was observing that mysterious personage known as The Shadow. Waiting motionless, the sinister shape appeared like a chiseled statue. Long minutes passed before The Shadow moved; then, with gliding sweep, he went across the lawn, and his body merged with the side of the house directly by the cellar door.

  MILDRED’S nerves could no longer stand the strain. She knew that the stranger of the night had entered the cellar, where the man from the house had gone. What if the man from the house were Harvey! Had he had time to leave the cellar before he had been followed?

  Mildred tried to scream as she dashed across the lawn and up the steps; but her voice failed her. She rushed into the house and up the stairs. A figure blocked her path. She cried aloud now, as she seized the man who was moving out of her way.

  “Harvey! Harvey!” she cried.

  Harvey’s voice answered her within her very arms. It was her husband whom she had seen here in the darkness; it was he whom she had seized!

  A light came on in the hall. Craig Ware, awakened by the noise, was standing in pajamas, blinking in bewildered fashion. Harvey, fully dressed, was glowering at Mildred angrily.

  “What’s the matter?” he demanded
. “Where were you?”

  “Nothing” - Mildred was gasping - “I was just out on the lawn - walking about. I - I thought you were out there, Harvey.”

  “Outside the house?” blurted Harvey. “I? You have been dreaming, Mildred.”

  “But you are dressed -“

  “Of course. I didn’t go to bed. I was in my room. I heard you rushing up the steps. I came out to see what was the matter.”

  More men were arriving now - Jessup and his two companions, from the back of the house. Jessup was clad in trousers and pajama jacket; the others were in pajamas. Craig Ware met them and sent them back.

  “It’s all right, boys,” he said quietly. “Mrs. Chittenden had a bad nightmare - that’s all.”

  Harvey was darting back to his room. Mildred followed him. He turned on the light. Craig Ware joined them, and Mildred looked from one man to the other.

  “You had better go back to bed,” said Harvey. “You have been dreaming Mildred.”

  “I can’t, Harvey,” responded Mildred. “I must tell you what I really saw. Men walking on the lawn -“

  “Don’t annoy me!” cried Harvey angrily. “You’ll drive me mad, with these wild imaginings!”

  Mildred would not stop. Her whole being was terrorized with unexplained impressions.

  “I’ve got to talk to you, Harvey!” the girl blurted. “You must answer me. You were up tonight. You must have seen - or heard. Tell me - Craig can listen, too. Who is Lei Chang? Lei Chang - the Chinaman who lives in the grove? Who is Koon Woon? Koon Woon - The Master? Is he the - the” - Mildred groped for a descriptive term, and found one - “is he the dark phantom?”

  Harvey Chittenden leaped forward as though to clutch his wife’s throat. Craig Ware intervened. Harvey stepped back and clenched his fists, pounding them against his body.

  “You’re driving me mad!” he exclaimed. “Can’t you understand? Isn’t there enough on my mind? Go back to bed! You have been dreaming!”

  CRAIG WARE gently urged Mildred to the door. He spoke reassuringly to Harvey, and the young man quieted down. Craig closed the door, and accompanied Mildred to her room. The girl dropped her head upon the showman’s shoulder and began to weep.

  “I shouldn’t have spoken, Craig,” she sobbed. “But I was not dreaming. Something terrible is threatening this place. I saw - I saw another man come from the house. A tall man - it must have been Harvey - he was the only one who was up -“

  “Be calm,” soothed ware. “Harvey may have gone outside to settle his nerves. He has been very troubled lately.”

  “But you believe me, Craig -“

  The showman nodded seriously in response to the girl’s pleading words. Mildred looked up and saw a worried expression on Ware’s face. She felt sure that he, too, was experiencing her fears that all was ill.

  “Don’t worry,” declared Ware. “I’ll stay here tomorrow night, Mildred, and make my trip to Connecticut the next day. I’ll keep watch for the rest of this night. Tomorrow night, too. Jessup and his men can be on guard after that.”

  “I really saw those persons,” Mildred said in a low, positive voice. “The Chinaman who talked to somebody, and called himself Lei Chang; the other creature who glided across the lawn, all in black -“

  The girl stepped away and went into her room. She dropped upon the bed and lay there, weakly. Craig Ware went downstairs and lighted the lamp in the living room. Its glow was visible to Mildred, and it was comforting. But as she lay there, thinking, Mildred recalled Harvey’s anger.

  She had thought that he was the man from the house who had gone to the woods. Perhaps that was wrong; but of one fact, Mildred was now convinced. The person to whom Lei Chang had talked must have been none other than her husband!

  Her thoughts changed. She recalled the mysterious being clad in black. Where was he now? Was he in the cellar of this house? What had he done during the interval since she had seen him last?

  Mildred would have been amazed had she known the proximity of The Shadow. Harvey and Craig Ware were not the only ones who had heard her outburst in Harvey’s room. Beyond the window had been a form in black - the figure of an unseen listener who had scaled the wall to hear.

  Now, with every fact that Mildred had uttered firmly fixed in his mind, The Shadow was watching Lower Beechview from a spot that Mildred would never have suspected. The tall, spectral figure had become a blotted shape of black, resting upon the bench beside the shore.

  From that spot, keen eyes were visualizing the scene as Mildred had described it. A soft, whispered laugh shuddered through the night air. The Shadow’s master mind was finding answers to the riddles that surrounded this place.

  The keen eyes turned to the grove. There, they were focused steadily as they tried to penetrate the solid gloom. Within that grove lay mystery and doom, which even yet were taxing the mighty genius of The Shadow.

  Things here had reached a stage of impasse. The answer to the mystery must come from another source. The Shadow would have to draw upon his vast knowledge now.

  CHAPTER XIII

  THE SHADOW PLANS!

  LAMONT CRANSTON glanced at this watch. It was nearly six o’clock. He stood up and looked across the golf links. It was late afternoon, on a quiet day. The grove of beeches was placid beneath the setting sun. The roof of Upper Beechview glistened from the rays of sinking light. The house at Lower Beechview was partially obscured by dusk.

  Upper Beechview - Lower Beechview - the grove between. Those were focal points in a baffling set of problems. Of the three, the grove was most mysterious and sinister. Yet the houses, too, were of great importance in the matter.

  Last night, a mysterious figure in black had hovered about Upper Beechview, to learn the plans of Zachary Chittenden. The same phantom shape had appeared in timely fashion at Lower Beechview to see what was happening there.

  Now, Lamont Cranston, a very quiet, easy-going individual, had finished an afternoon of leisurely observation from the country club. His strolling gait, as he entered the clubhouse, indicated the greatest unconcern.

  At a writing desk, Cranston scorned the pen and ink. Instead, he used a fountain pen of his own. He wrote a line on a sheet of paper and let the ink dry. As he watched, the writing disappeared. This was The Shadow’s test of the ink he used in all his messages to his agents.

  Satisfied by the test, Cranston wrote a note in code and folded the paper promptly, to seal it in an envelope. He repeated the operation with a second sheet and envelope. These messages could be read only by the men for whom they were intended. After that, the writing would vanish too quickly for a wrong recipient to have time to work out the code.

  Using the club pen, Cranston addressed the first note to Harry Vincent; the second to Clyde Burke. These were two of his trusted agents. He left the envelopes at the clerk’s desk, and stated that he was going into town; but that friends might call, in which case they should receive the messages.

  In a telephone booth, Cranston called a number, and a quiet voice responded.

  “Burbank,” it announced.

  “Instructions,” answered Cranston. “Vincent to club at half past seven. Burke to club at eight. Messages waiting.”

  “Instructions received.”

  “Report on Mann.”

  “Data delivered.”

  The conversation ended. Through Burbank, his secret contact-agent, The Shadow - at present Lamont Cranston - had completed arrangements for tonight.

  A limousine came up to the portico of the clubhouse. Lamont Cranston descended the steps, an attendant carrying his bag. Within the elegant car, Cranston gave a brief order to the chauffeur.

  “City, Stanley.”

  AN hour afterward, the limousine stopped at a secluded spot on Twenty-third Street. It remained there for half a minute; then drove on. On the back seat reposed a closed bag.

  Lamont Cranston was no longer to be seen. Instead, a black-clad figure had taken his place - not in the limousine, but on the street. The Shadow had agai
n set forth upon some mysterious mission.

  The door of a dilapidated Twenty-third Street building opened silently, and a tall, obscure figure slipped through. It made its way to an upper floor, and stopped near a smudgy-paneled door that bore the name:

  B. JONAS

  This was the mysterious office that was never opened. Through the mail chute in the door, Rutledge Mann, investigator for The Shadow, dropped envelopes containing data which he had been ordered to acquire. Rutledge Mann was presumably an investment broker, with a suite of offices in the towering Badger Building. His recognized position as a business man enabled him to obtain information regarding persons of social standing whose doings were of interest to The Shadow.

  The figure in black disappeared somewhere near the glass-paneled office. It appeared later in the hallway, then silently descended the steps and reached the street. From then on, The Shadow’s course was totally untraceable.

  A LIGHT clicked in a room; a blue incandescent threw its ghoulish glow upon a polished table. White hands - blue-hued in the weird glare - appeared. Upon one finger gleamed The Shadow’s token, the iridescent girasol, the gem of ever-changing colors.

  The hands opened an envelope. An inner envelope followed. It was marked:

  Chittenden Records - Complete

  Folded papers were drawn from the envelope. The Shadow’s supple fingers spread the documents upon the table. Keen eyes from the dark scanned the closely-typed lines, noting every detail in the wealth of information.

  As the hands refolded the papers, a soft, whispered laugh broke through the room. Black walls threw back the shuddering sound. The laugh died away, as impish echoes took up the weird mockery.