Bells of Doom

CHAPTER XVI HARRY’S MESSAGE

DINNER had ended at Claverly’s. The meal had been served early; and it had proven a gloomy affair. Milton was in a solemn frame of mind; he had maintained it all day, ever since the news of Beauchamp’s death.

Lester, creeping about the dining room as he served the food, was wearing a perpetual smirk. The old servant was silent because his master had ordered him to be. But he made no secret of the joy that he felt, now that the last of the three had died.

Harry Vincent was restless; Phyllis Lingle was strained and worried. They had gained no opportunity to talk. Harry knew that the girl must have some news of importance. He wanted to learn it; to get word to The Shadow.

With dinner over, all had retired to the library, with the exception of Lester. A ring at the front door brought the servant into the hall from the dining room. Lester answered the call and admitted Louis Vandrow. He ushered the lawyer into the library.

Something in Vandrow’s look told Milton that his attorney wanted a conference. In challenging fashion, the young man spoke before the attorney had the opportunity.

“Whatever you have to say,” snapped Milton, “can be spoken in the presence of all who are here. I suppose you have come to find out where I was last night.”

“I have,” returned Vandrow, mildly. “I hope, Milton, that you followed my advice.”

“I did. I never left the house. Vincent, here, can testify to that fact.”

“Can you?” questioned the lawyer, turning to Harry.

“Yes.” The Shadow’s agent tried to conceal the reluctance of his reply. “I can not state that Milton Claverly was under my constant observation; but he—”

“You can account exactly for what happened after the bells rang in the old tower?”

Vandrow’s question was an anxious one. It came as an interruption; and it brought a jolt to Harry Vincent. The lawyer was specifying the most crucial portion of last night’s episodes.

“That is important, Vincent,” added Vandrow. “I fear that Milton may be called upon to account for his activities. I must be sure that they can be substantiated. Any questioning will boil down to a definite analysis of the ten minute period which came directly after the bells ceased ringing.”

Harry could feel Milton’s eyes upon him. He knew that the heir was depending upon his support. Lester was standing by the door, watching. Both knew that Harry could not give a true statement of Milton’s actions during the interval which Vandrow had mentioned.

Harry glanced toward Milton. He saw a tinge of apprehension on the young man’s face. He knew that Milton feared that he would mention the encounter in the dark.

Lester was staring, his eyes wide open. The servant wore a significant leer. Vandrow was impatiently awaiting Harry’s answer. This was a time for strategy.

“I FEEL positive,” declared Harry, slowly, “that I can give a satisfactory account of Milton Claverly’s whereabouts at the time the bells rang last night. Does that please you, Mr. Vandrow?”

“It does.” The lawyer nodded in relieved fashion. “I am glad” — this was to Milton — “that you had this capable witness present in the house. Milton” — the attorney paused, his features serious — “there is to be a conference tonight at Zangwald’s home. The county prosecutor will be there.”

“How does that concern me?” questioned Milton in a suave tone.

“Very directly,” replied Vandrow. “The sheriff will be there; the coroner also. I am attending. At that time, various theories will be presented concerning the deaths of Dunwell, Hosker and Beauchamp.

“The prosecutor appears determined to follow any lead to the limit. He is angry because so little has been accomplished. He believes that the ringing of the bells is connected with the deaths. He is looking for any person who might have had occasion for enmity toward the dead men.”

“And I am one?”

“Frankly, you are. Those three swindled your father. You have suffered because of their activities. Your heritage was lessened. Once your name is mentioned tonight, the prosecutor will demand that you be quizzed.”

“Who intends to mention my name?”

Milton’s tone was cold. The young man was facing Vandrow squarely. His moroseness had vanished. Milton was openly challenging. Vandrow looked troubled.

“Not I, Milton,” responded the lawyer. “As your attorney, as your friend, it is my part to keep you free from troublesome situations. But when your name comes up,—”

“I ask you again” — Milton’s tone was a demand — “to name the person who will mention me.”

“Very well. I can tell you. Abner Zangwald will throw suspicion upon you.”

“How do you know?”

“Because he was about to mention your name this afternoon, while talking with the prosecutor in the town hall.”

“Why should Zangwald make this step against me?”

“Because he believes that you had cause to act against the three men who died—”

“No!” Milton blurted the interruption. “You are wrong, Vandrow! I shall tell you the reason why Zangwald will bring up my name. He is a hypocrite! He pretended to be my father’s friend. He laid aside the mask after my father died.

“Tell Zangwald this for me. Tell him that I detest him. Tell him that I feel no more than contempt for Dunwell. For Hosker. For Beauchamp. Tell him that the only man in Torburg whose sudden death would please me is Abner Zangwald, himself!”

THE young man paused with clenched fists. Vandrow stood aghast. He looked toward Harry; toward Phyllis. He stared to see Lester framed in the door. Besides Vandrow, there were three other witnesses of Milton’s rage.

“This is bad,” declared the lawyer, solemnly. “Calm yourself, Milton. This is no time to lose your temper. I am sorry that you have spoken in so violent a manner. I have come here as your friend, to tell you that you face a serious predicament.

“It is possible that the prosecutor may come here tonight. With others, to question you. What you have just said is a threat. A serious threat. One that I shall not repeat; and one that I advise you to forget.”

Milton had no comment. Vandrow looked about toward the other persons; then concentrated his gaze upon the young man who confronted him.

“Milton,” declared the lawyer, “I am sincere when I say that your entire future rests upon your own discretion. Be prepared for visitors tonight. Curb your temper while you await their arrival. My advice must be heeded.

“When the ring of the doorbell announces that the visitors have come, have Vincent and Phyllis upstairs. Lester also. Answer the door yourself. Be affable. Answer questions frankly and quietly.

“If corroboration of your testimony is needed, we can call Vincent. He may be the only person required. Perhaps Phyllis may be called upon; Lester will be ignored if possible. Come, Milton. Promise me your cooperation. Matters are more serious than you suppose.”

Vandrow clapped his hand upon Milton’s shoulder. He drew the young man toward the door, talking in a friendly tone as they walked along. Lester preceded them. The lawyer’s manner was having its effect upon Milton Claverly. The young man was nodding in response to quieting words.

Harry looked toward Phyllis. The girl approached and began to speak. This was the opportunity that had come at last. Eagerly, she began the story that she had sought to tell before.

“LAST night,” whispered the girl, “I heard someone outside the house. Prowling, there — after those terrible bells had ceased to peal.”

“The man that I—”

“The man who fought with you. But it was not the first time that he came here. I heard him twice before. On those other two nights, just after the bells. I saw him, by the moonlight.”

“Where?”

“Beyond the end of the crypt.”

“The crypt?”

“The low extension from the house. He disappeared while I watched. I did not see his face.”

“Can you describe him?”

“He — he was about Milton’s height. But he was stooping, like Lester. I could not tell whether he was going from the house or coming here. That was because he moved out of sight at the end of the crypt.”

“There is a door in the crypt?”

“Yes. An outside door; and an inner door that connects with the cellar. But both are locked. The keys were supposedly destroyed. It would be impossible for anyone to open either door without a key.”

“Yet you believe—”

“I do not know what to believe.” The girl quivered. “I have had terrible, dreadful thoughts! I have realized that if someone held those keys, he could go in and out of this house by passing through the crypt—”

The girl stopped. Milton was returning, followed by Lester. There had been a brief conference at the front door. That final chat with Vandrow had sobered Milton Claverly.

“I guess the quiz is coming,” asserted Milton. “When it does, I’ll have to bluff it out alone for a starter. If you’re still up when those people come here, Vincent, I’ll have to ask you to go upstairs.”

“Quite all right,” declared Harry.

“I’ll be ready when you give the word. By the way, Milton, I’ve got to phone the hotel. All right if I do it now?”

“Certainly,” said Milton.

Harry went from the library. He crossed the hall, entered the parlor and closed the door behind him. Instead of calling the hotel, however, he gave another number. It was one that he had memorized from the instructions left by The Shadow.

A quiet voice responded. Harry announced his identity. A responding whisper assured him that The Shadow was at the other end of the wire. Quickly, Harry told of Vandrow’s visit. Then he added an account of his brief conversation with Phyllis Lingle.

The call ended, Harry went from the parlor. From the hallway, he saw Phyllis ascending the stairs. He called a cheery goodnight, then continued into the library to find Milton pacing back and forth across the floor.

Brief silence followed in the hallway that Harry had just passed. Then, from a niche outside the parlor door, Lester stepped forth. The servant’s eyes glittered in suspicion. His lips formed a fierce leer.

Lester had been eavesdropping. Outside the door, he had caught brief snatches of Harry’s conversation. He had stepped from view when Phyllis had appeared. He had remained out of sight until Harry had crossed the hallway.

Catlike, the old servant moved into the darkness of the dining room. His lips were twitching. Whispered epithets came incoherently. They told that some plan was forming in the stooped man’s mind.

Bells of doom had tolled the deaths of three. Terror, presumably, had ended its reign in Torburg. Yet this night was already as ominous as the three that had preceded it. A menace lay above the town; the danger seemed thickest here at Claverly’s.

Milton was steeling himself for an ordeal. Harry was ready for whatever might come. Now, Lester, by his actions was giving proof that he, too, would figure in the events that were drawing nigh.