The Grove Of Doom s-37

by Maxwell Grant

  “Those barrels are very heavy,” commented Mildred. “What is in them, Jessup?”

  “Cement,” replied the head worker solemnly. “You see, ma’am, I tried an experiment that didn’t work out. We had clement left over from the garage drive, and I thought I could use it to line the cellar wall. It wasn’t going right, down in the cellar, and I was stuck with a whole load of mixed cement. Had to get rid of it - no good. So I poured it into those old barrels. Now it’s hardened.”

  “Is the cement of any use now?”

  “No, ma’am,” said Jessup ruefully. “It’s just a loss - for which I’m sorry. Had to figure a way to get rid of it, so we’re loading the barrels on our little boat off the float. Drop them overboard in the Sound is what we intend to do.”

  “How are the rabbits getting on, Jessup?” queried Mildred, anxious to turn to a more interesting subject. “Did the new ones come in?”

  “Yes, ma’am,” was the reply. “Shipped the old ones out the other day. The new ones aren’t just what I want; guess I’ll have to get rid of them the same way. You can look at them if you wish, while they’re here.”

  Mildred strolled up to see the rabbits and immediately forgot all about Jessup and his workmen. She resumed to the front lawn, and spent the afternoon reading a book. Despite the beauty of the day, Mildred felt lonely. Harvey’s condition was troubling her. He had not recovered from the mood that his father and brother had occasioned.

  IT was nearly evening when Harvey appeared from the house and querulously called to Jessup. Mildred heard him give instructions to the man.

  “I want you to be up tonight, Jessup,” ordered Harvey. “You and both your men. Take tomorrow off if you want. I don’t like it here at night, especially with Ware gone. Can’t sleep unless I know the place is right. So be on the job, all three of you.”

  “All right, Mr. Chittenden,” assented Jessup.

  Evening came, and Harvey seemed wrapped in an unapproachable lethargy. His wife attempted to open conversation with him, as they sat in the living room, but Harvey was taciturn and morose. It was obvious that his mind was ill at ease. Finally, in response to Mildred’s quiet talk, Harvey became suddenly angry.

  “Don’t talk to me!” he exclaimed. “After the other night, when you asked all those maddening questions - how can you talk to me? I tell you I don’t know what it’s all about - all these worries. My family - I detest them. Why should you trouble me, too?”

  He stamped upstairs, and Mildred sat alone and unhappy. She and Harvey had seldom quarreled. She made allowance for the nervous strain that he had suffered, for with Harvey a temper lasted long. At the same time, Mildred could not help but wonder about those nights she had spent on the lawn.

  Lei Chang and Koon Woon - the two names kept throbbing through her brain. What had happened to Walter Pearson - to Wilbur Chittenden? Had any ill befallen Galbraith or Zachary after they had visited Lower Beechview and returned through the grove?

  Mildred pondered long. She walked out upon the porch. She stared off past the grove toward the lights of Upper Beechview. She watched them for a long time; then saw them go out, one by one.

  The moonlight was not brilliant tonight, yet it threw a plain glow, and Mildred could see the bench by the water front. It seemed very black and shadowy. Somehow, Mildred connected it with the strange phantom that she had seen on the lawn - the gliding shape that had emerged from the grove.

  The grove! Had Mildred known it, that weird figure was moving through the grove at this very moment. There, beneath the beeches, a black-shrouded figure was walking with noiseless tread. Tonight was important to The Shadow!

  Mildred went in the house and up to her room. She could not go to sleep. Midnight had long since passed. Jessup and his men were on watch tonight; that, at least, was comforting.

  Mildred was suddenly aware of a tense, whispered voice beneath her window. Leaping from bed, she listened. It was one of Jessup’s men talking with his chief.

  “I just spotted ‘em!” the man was declaring breathlessly. “Sneakin’ up from the shore, over by them trees. Don’t know who they are, but we’d better lay for ‘em.”

  “Go around in back,” growled Jessup. “Hurry! I’ll get Bud and aim for the front. If they look phony, give it to them.”

  Trouble on the other side of the house! Men on the lawn! Frightened, Mildred rushed to Harvey’s room. She rapped softly on the door. Harvey’s growl came in response.

  “Harvey! Harvey!” exclaimed Mildred. “There’s going to be trouble outside. Hush! Don’t let anyone hear you! Men are coming in, and Jessup is trying to stop them!”

  The door opened, and Harvey appeared, dressed except for coat and vest. In the gloom of the hallway, Mildred could see the flash of a revolver.

  “Stay up here!” ordered Harvey. “I’m going down to see what’s the matter. More trouble from the hill, maybe.”

  MILDRED went to a front window and crouched there. She could see no one, although all seemed vague over by the beeches. Then she fancied she could see men near the shore. Suddenly, Harvey appeared. He had rushed down the steps from the porch.

  Instantly, the quietude of Lower Beechview was broken by a strident shout. Someone - down near the shore - had raised the cry.

  “That’s him!” came the call. “Get him! Get him! He’s the guy we want!”

  Revolver shots crackled from the shore. Before Harvey, startled, could respond, an answering fire came from the side of the house. Then, up by the gate that led to the golf course, new shots burst forth.

  Harvey, out of range of the first wild attack, scrambled to the shelter of the porch. Men were dashing over the lawn now, their shots forming a barrage that covered the door to the house. The rounds were spreading; a terrific fusillade seemed opening from all directions.

  Terror gripped Mildred Chittenden. She could see half a dozen men crossing the lawn, and knew that others were elsewhere. Some enemy - she thought of Harvey’s fears - had ordered a mass attack. To resist it were but four: Jessup, his two men, and Harvey. How could they resist these superior numbers?

  The cause was hopeless. Worst of all, Harvey had gone directly into the trap. Jessup and his men were under cover; they had themselves to look out for. Fiendish gangsters were tearing over the lawn. Harvey could not escape them. He was doomed!

  A terrified sob came from the girl’s lips. Pathetically, she stared across the lawn. Then to her distorted vision came a sight that both horrified and thrilled her, as she recognized a new entrant into this maddened fray.

  Coming from the edge of the grove was the strange phantom in black. Like an avenging specter, he was gliding toward the focal point of the attack.

  Was he with the enemy? A terrible fear gripped Mildred. Then her dread changed to inspired hope as she cried in exultation. She could see a black-garbed hand extended in the moonlight. A flash burst from a huge automatic. A gangster, who had suddenly observed the menace, dropped upon the lawn before he could fire a single shot.

  The Shadow had entered the conflict. Alone, he had come from darkness to beat back the attacking hordes; wild cries came from everywhere as Mildred Chittenden stared transfixed at the sight of the man in black.

  Then came a sound that chilled her, yet which added to her hope. Amid the rattle of the guns, the weird avenger was laughing - his mirth pealing forth in a fearful cry of mockery.

  That was the laugh of The Shadow!

  CHAPTER XVII

  BROTHER AND BROTHER

  THE SHADOW’S arrival had indeed been a timely one. This was the night that Zachary Chittenden had planned the sure elimination of his brother Harvey. By gang attack, he had felt sure, he could become the last of the Chittendens.

  But Zachary, as cowardly as he was clever, had not trusted to a handful of henchmen. He had sent forth a mob of more than a dozen men; and they were attacking Lower Beechview from front and back.

  Sixteen was the total number, and half of these had begun the charge on Harvey. He had elud
ed them for the moment; crouching on the porch, he was prepared to fight to the end. Jessup and one man, beyond the house, had fired wildly; then they had been forced to turn to meet gangsters coming from the back.

  The first man to fall upon the lawn was the one who had seen The Shadow. Now, at the sound of the automatic, and the terrible laugh which followed it, the others turned to meet the menace. Revolvers glimmered in the moonlight. The Shadow’s automatics burst forth.

  Down toppled gangsters. Some fired wildly, others shot hopelessly as they fell, while some never had the opportunity to press the triggers of their revolvers. The Shadow, against the blackened background of the beeches, was a hazy figure to these fighters, although Mildred, from above, could see him plainly.

  The Shadow’s aim was certain. The attacking gunmen were clear targets for his unerring marksmanship. For cowardly murderers, The Shadow had no quarter. Snarling, bestial fiends fell with dying curses on their evil lips.

  To Harvey Chittenden, The Shadow’s surprise attack meant salvation. He could not understand who the rescuer might be; he knew only that rescue had come. Leaping forward to the rail of the porch, the beleaguered man raised his revolver and shot down one gangster whom The Shadow had wounded. A rising fiend tried to clip Harvey at the rail. A bullet from The Shadow silenced the would-be killer.

  The lawn was strewn with attackers who would fight no more. The charge was broken. Not a single shot came from the scattered mobsmen as they lay spread about. Harvey, exulting in victory, rushed down the steps and out into the moonlight; then stopped, vainly looking for cover.

  The other half of the mob had arrived. Eight men, sweeping from the rear, had circled the house to annihilate Jessup and his two henchmen. They had struck too swiftly for resistance. Only one of the invaders had fallen, while Jessup and his two were dead. Those had been the shots from quarters other than the lawn.

  HARVEY CHITTENDEN was cut off from the house. His only fortune lay in the fact that he was not instantly recognized. Seeing the danger, he began to rush across the lawn toward the shore, the seven gangsters suddenly spying him.

  All these had circled the building, knowing that those from the shore could cover the side by the grove. Hence they had not seen The Shadow’s fight. The first sign of the avenger in black came when the leading mobsman raised his revolver and paused to take certain aim at Harvey Chittenden.

  Had that finger pressed the trigger, Harvey would have fallen with a bullet in his back. Mildred, from above, screamed out a futile warning.

  It was The Shadow, again, who frustrated the cold-blooded killing. A loud roar came from the automatic in his left hand. As the recoil thumped back against the black-garbed arm, the standing gangster slumped crazily to the ground. Another man fired wildly toward Harvey, then paused for better aim. Like the first, he had no chance to place a well-directed shot. The Shadow finished this murderer with a well-placed bullet from his right-hand gun.

  With their quarry out of range, the five remaining slayers sprang in widespread formation toward The Shadow. They had seen him vaguely, they could spot the flashes of his pistols. They knew that they had but one man with whom to deal.

  They realized the identity of that one man as they swept forward, coming up with glistening revolvers. A strident laugh rang through the night; upon its echoes came the roar of guns that barked like cannons.

  “The Shadow!”

  The loud, shrill scream came from the lips of a terrified mobsman. An instant later the gangster’s arms swung in the air, and his revolver tumbled from his grasp. He stumbled aimlessly upon the greensward and fell.

  Shots whistled through the dark - shots toward the grove - fired by the other gunmen. But these men, rushing up to overpower a single foe, were throwing their lives away. The Shadow, crouching with leveled automatics, replied with perfect, calculated aim. As the foremost gangsters fell to rise no more, the last three of the evil crew broke and fled for the corner of the house.

  One staggered, clipped by The Shadow’s following shot. Then, with his taunting laugh ringing clear, the black avenger swept forward in pursuit. Mildred, staring in amazement, saw the swift chase made by this relentless foe of evil. She knew that the last members of the gangster horde could not escape the one who followed them.

  Harvey Chittenden realized it, too, as he saw the pursuit. He was lying on the ground beside the shore, where he had fallen. Now, with his revolver in hand, he arose, intent upon going back to the house. But as Harvey stood within the range of moonlight, a shot was fired from several yards away. A bullet seared the sleeve of Harvey’s shirt. Turning with upraised revolver, he saw the author of the shot.

  Zachary Chittenden was skulking by the edge of the grove near the shore. He had stepped into the moonlight, unseen by Harvey, and had aimed with intent of ending his brother’s life.

  With a frenzied cry, Harvey leaped across the ground, raising his revolver. Zachary was about to fire again; then, in craven fashion, he ducked and started to flee. He slipped on the grass, and before he could escape, Harvey was upon him.

  With a frightened squeal, Zachary squirmed away, and ran along the edge of the grove, heading toward the house. Harvey overtook him, threw him on the ground, and grasped his revolver.

  MUFFLED shots were sounding from the direction of the cove. The Shadow was dealing justice to the last of the mobsters. Harvey did not hear those shots, so intent was he upon the coward who cringed before him. Mildred, still at the window, watched, too worn with terrible excitement to make a move.

  “So this is your work, you cur!” growled Harvey, to his brother. “I expected something like it. Lying back, you sent a mob of killers to get me!”

  Zachary was crouching, his hands upraised in fear.

  “A bullet through your black heart!” shouted Harvey. “That is what you need. You came here to kill me!”

  A sudden defiance came over Zachary Chittenden. Raising his head, he stared fiercely at his brother.

  “Why not?” he snarled. “What of you? Where is Walter Pearson? Where is Wilbur? Where is my father? Answer me!”

  “What do I care where they are?” demanded Harvey.

  “They are dead!” cried Zachary.

  “Dead?” Harvey’s question was a jeer. “If they are of your kind - as they have shown themselves to be - that is what they have deserved - death!”

  “You know they are dead!” denounced Zachary. “You know they are dead! You know where they died!”

  “Where?” questioned Harvey.

  “In that grove!” cried Zachary.

  “So you know where they died,” said Harvey coldly. “You, a man bent on murder tonight, telling me of others who have died, and where. You - the youngest and meanest of the family - the one who wanted all that he could get. Coming here to end my life after” - Harvey’s note was fierce - “after you have murdered the others who stood in your way!”

  “You lie!” screamed Zachary “You lie! You drew Walter Pearson to his death! You lured Wilbur! You are to blame for my father’s death! Now you - you are trying to kill me - the gun is in your hand! Trying to blame me for your crimes; pretending to kill me in self-defense. All was well until you came here - to murder. That is why I came tonight; to put an end to your crimes!”

  A look of fierce rage came over Harvey Chittenden’s face. Angrily he raised the revolver, then lowered it. His words burst forth in staccato tone as he voiced his wrath upon Zachary.

  “Lies! Lies! You speak lies!” At Harvey’s glare, Zachary cringed and drew away. “You who have lied all your life! Get out! Get out! I give you ten seconds!”

  Zachary backed rapidly away. Finding himself beneath the branches of the beeches, he began to sidle toward the lawn.

  “Out of my sight!” roared Harvey. “Into the woods before I kill you!”

  “No - no” - Zachary was backing away, unconsciously going deep beneath the trees. “No - no -“

  Harvey raised his revolver, furiously. Zachary could see his face in th
e moonlight. Harvey was charging forward. Death was the threat in his eyes. In stark terror, Zachary turned and dashed into the grove, with Harvey in pursuit.

  THE menace of the revolver, wielded by a man who had gone mad with rage, was too great for Zachary Chittenden’s terror-stricken mind. No thought of other dangers could overcome that one. He plunged madly through the woods, padding over the brown matting, with Harvey’s vengeful footsteps following him. The pursuit ended suddenly, but Harvey’s voice threw forth a final threat.

  Panting, shouting, pleading, Zachary ran on. Harvey, returning to the edge of the beeches stood upon the lawn and glowered toward the trees where Zachary had fled. He could hear those cries becoming fainter and fainter. Then came a distant scream, a vague, fearful sound that wafted through the lonely, blackened corridors beneath the thick-leafed boughs.

  Mildred Chittenden watched from the window. She had observed the whole tragic scene. She had seen Harvey follow Zachary, and had witnessed the prompt return of her husband. Now, her eyes unconsciously wandering across the lawn, Mildred saw a silent figure that had seemingly arrived from nowhere.

  The Shadow - he who had foiled the fierce attack - had returned! Like Mildred, he could see Harvey standing beside the beeches!

  Harvey Chittenden walked across the lawn with weary, shaking step. Mildred watched him from the window, she knew that The Shadow, statuesque in pose, was also watching. Harvey came through the door and up the steps to the second floor. He walked by Mildred and entered his room, like a man in a fatal trance. He turned on the light, and his gun fell from his hand.

  “We must call the police, Harvey,” gasped Mildred. “They will surely be here soon -“

  “Call them,” said Harvey.

  Mildred went to the telephone and made the call. Her voice was mechanical. She was thinking of that episode on the lawn. Harvey, her husband, had driven his brother Zachary into that terrible grove. Others had gone there - all had died. Mildred had heard Zachary’s accusations before Harvey had made the final threat.