The Ghost Of The Manor

CHAPTER XV WARREN GETS ADVICE

WARREN BARRINGER’S step was furtive as the young man entered the side door of the City Club. The lobby was deserted; only a few persons were seated in the lounge. Yet Warren was overly self-conscious as he turned his footsteps toward the stairway. He hoped that he would find Clark Brosset where he had left him — in the upstairs office.

Warren was fortunate. His tap at the door brought an immediate response. The barrier opened, and Warren entered to face Clark Brosset. The club president took one glance at his young friend; then quickly shut the door and locked it. He urged Warren to a chair; then snapped quick questions.

“What’s happened, Warren?” asked Brosset. “You’re as pale as a ghost — all tuckered out — no hat — clothes mussed—”

Apprehension showed upon Brosset’s face as he made this staccato survey of Warren’s troubled condition. In response, the young man stared vaguely across the room, and spoke in a voice tinged with horrible recollections of his late experience.

“Murder, Clark,” came his hoarse tone, “murder! Humphrey Delthern — Wellington — both killed. Right while I was there, at Delthern Hall! So help me, Clark, I’m innocent!”

Clark Brosset surveyed his friend’s face. He saw the changing emotions that flickered over Warren’s countenance. He approached and gripped the young man’s shoulder.

“Buck up, boy,” he urged, in a low, steady voice. “I’m here to help you, Warren. Steady! Let me know what’s happened. Easy, now — from the beginning.”

Warren nodded. With a quick effort, he regained some of his composure. In an even monotone, he began his story. He told of his arrival at Delthern Manor; of his interview with Humphrey Delthern. Then came the episode of the first death in the dark; Humphrey with the knife jutting from his heart. Warren followed with Wellington’s intervention; the second extinguishing of the lights; and the shot that slew the servant.

“Go on,” said Clark Brosset seriously. “You left the house then? Did anyone see you?”

“I don’t think so,” declared Warren. “I found a cab about a block from the Manor. I took it—”

“A great mistake!” exclaimed Brosset. “That may cause you trouble, Warren. If the taximan saw you when you got out here—”

“I think I’m all right,” interrupted Warren, as he managed to smile. “First of all, the driver was looking for someone who had left the cab and forgotten his change. He didn’t see my face.

“Next, I had a hunch, and told him to take me to the station. It was while we were riding there that he mentioned the matter of the money. Said he would give me what was coming when we reached the depot.”

“When the cab stopped, I watched the driver. I saw him fumbling in his pockets. I told him to keep the change as I stepped from the door; then I ducked past the back of the cab. All he knows is that he took a passenger to the railroad station.”

“Good headwork,” commented Brosset. The president was pacing the room; he turned and put another question: “How did you come here from the station?”

“Took a trolley,” answered Warren. “A crowded car. No one could have noticed me. I came in through the side door.”

“All right,” said Brosset approvingly. “Come now, Warren. Spruce up a bit. Straighten your tie and brush your hair. Mirror in there by the washstand. We’re going down in the grillroom together.”

“You mean—”

“I mean that we’re going to be seen together here at the club. I’ve been around the place all evening. Everyone knows that I’ve been here. You were with me up to the time you left. You’ll be with me now.”

“But those dead men — up at the Manor—”

“Listen, Warren.” Clark Brosset’s voice was severe. “Did you see the murderer?”

“No. It couldn’t have been anyone but Jasper — after what I heard him say on the phone.”

“But did you see him?”

“Not even a glimpse,” admitted Warren.

“Well, then,” remarked Brosset, “you’re not going to say a thing about being at Delthern Manor — not until you have to say it — and that will be when the proper time has come. You were here, this evening, at the City Club. With me. Understand?”

Warren nodded.

“Where’s your hat?” questioned Brosset.

“I don’t know,” said Warren suddenly. “I–I may have had it in the cab. No — as I remember it now, I gave it to Wellington. He must have placed it on a rack in a downstairs closet.”

“Any identifying marks in it?”

“I don’t think so.”

“Well, we’ll trust to luck on that point. Unless you left it in the room where the murders were committed you—”

“I didn’t do that, I’m sure.”

“All right. Come along downstairs. You look all right now. We’ll talk this over in a quiet corner. Remember, Warren; this is not an alibi. I merely want to allow time for us to look into the matter.”

THE two men left the office and descended to the grillroom. In company with Clark Brosset, Warren Barringer now felt at ease. As the pair entered the grill, it appeared as though they had probably been together for some time.

Various club members hailed them; and not long afterward Warren and his companion managed to find a corner table by themselves. Brosset gave Louie two orders for sandwiches and coffee.

“Young Delthern was around here a few minutes ago,” said the steward, speaking to the president in an undertone. “Thought we were going to have some more trouble with him.”

“Liquor again?” inquired Brosset.

“Yes, sir,” said Louie. “He’s been in and out during the evening. Gets his drinks at some speakeasy, I guess. He could hardly stand up when he was in here last.”

“What did you do about it?”

“Had a couple of the boys take him to his room.”

“All right, Louie. Send word to me if you see him behaving badly after this.”

When the steward had gone, Clark Brosset turned to Warren with a serious expression. First making sure that no one was close enough to overhear what he might say, the club president gave terse advice.

“You and I,” declared Brosset, “know that Jasper may be the murderer of those two men. If he is, he’s done a lot to establish an alibi. Here — at the speakeasy — well, he’s probably been from one place to the other all evening. Maybe his drunkenness was a bluff at first; chances are he’s well under now.

“As I see it, Warren, it would be a huge risk to accuse Jasper when the police discover the murders. To do so, you would have to admit your own presence at Delthern Manor. Your own flight would be against you; and you can’t say that you saw Jasper there.

“If Jasper is responsible, there’s a chance that he will loop his own neck. Let the police suspect him first; wait until they have him boxed. Then you can speak. It would be natural for you, as his cousin, to show reluctance in accusing him.”

Warren nodded his agreement. He saw the logic of Brosset’s opinion. He decided that he had done well to come to such a friend for advice.

“Remember,” warned Brosset, in a cautious whisper, “that Jasper, by a clever persistence of innocence, could turn the suspicion on you.”

“Except for one fact,” mused Warren. “Jasper profits directly from the murder of Humphrey—”

“And you profit also.”

Clark Brosset’s frank statement made Warren realize his startling predicament. It was true that he also gained in the division of the Delthern estate. Furthermore, he saw another dilemma ahead of him.

“Clark,” he whispered, “if Jasper diverted suspicion toward me, it might look as though I had arranged the deaths of both Winstead and Humphrey. Besides that, Jasper could pretend that I had threatened him!”

Clark Brosset gazed about him as he nodded. Then, sagely, he added another admonition.

“Up in the office,” he declared, “you told me that Humphrey denounced you as Winstead’s killer. I know perfectly that you would not have committed such a crime. I believe you, because I am your friend. But will others believe you?

“You told me also that Humphrey became indignant at the thought of his own brother plotting against his life. If it came to a question between you and Jasper, what would people think? I shall tell you, Warren. They would decide that a man would murder his cousin with less compunction than his brother.”

WARREN BARRINGER clutched the edge of the table. He realized fully that he had placed himself in a serious position by going to Delthern Manor.

“I see it now,” he said slowly. “Wellington was in on the crime, because I heard Jasper talking to him on the phone. That’s why Jasper killed Wellington also. He has rid himself of the one man who might testify in my behalf. Wellington should have been out of the house. When he showed up, Jasper Delthern decided to take no chances.”

“You are battling a fiendish schemer, Warren,” decided Clark Brosset. “I am thankful that I know the truth; that I can aid you in this emergency. I know Jasper for a rogue; you for an honest man. I am with you in this crisis.

“There is only one course for us to follow. We must wait and watch. These murders will probably be discovered shortly. There will be calls for you and Jasper.

“Remember: you were here during the evening. Up in the office with me; here in the grillroom. I am going upstairs again. It would be a good plan for you to join a game in the cardroom.

“Jasper is too wise to be without an alibi. So we will counter with one for you. Simply subordinate the time element. Is that plain?”

Warren nodded his approval. He felt a surge of gratefulness toward Clark Brosset. Here was one man positive of Warren’s interest. A true friend was priceless in an emergency like this. Warren’s innocence; his knowledge of Jasper’s scheming — these were justifications for the alibi, should it prove necessary. Warren asked one question, to be sure.

“No one knows that I left the club?” he asked.

“No one,” returned Brosset. Then, with a frown, he added: “Yes, one man; but he has left town. I forgot to tell you in the excitement. A friend of yours called to see you, and stopped in my office.”

“What was his name?” inquired Warren anxiously. “I know no one in Newbury outside of yourself—”

“This man was from New York,” interposed Brosset. “His name was Lamont Cranston. Do you know him well?”

“Lamont Cranston!” exclaimed Warren. “What was he doing in Newbury?”

“On his way back to New York,” explained Brosset. “Stopped long enough to see you. He would have waited, but as I did not know how well you knew him, I said that you had gone out of town. 1 thought it best that no one should know you were at Delthern Manor. I feared complications there.”

“He left for New York, then?”

“Yes.”

Warren Barringer breathed a sigh of relief. He glanced toward Clark Brosset with a new expression of gratitude.

“Lamont Cranston is a good friend of mine,” he stated, “but I would not want him to know of this trouble that I have experienced. With you to count on, Clark, I do not need him. You did the right thing, old man. Thanks.”

“Don’t mention it. I used war thinking; that was all. Just a hunch that worked. Come.”

With the final word, Clark Brosset arose from the table. He conducted Warren upstairs, introduced him to some club members in the cardroom, and waited until Warren had joined the game. Upon departing, Brosset stopped in the lobby and spoke to the operator at the telephone switchboard.

“I shall be in my office,” he announced. “I expect to be working late. By the way, if any calls come for Mr. Barringer, switch them to me. He is likely to be up there with me; if not, I can communicate with him.”

DOWN in the gloomy lobby of the City Club, a patch of blackness seemed to shift from the wall. A moment later, a tall, phantom figure traced its way silently through the lobby. The switchboard operator did not see this ghostly form. The men in the cardroom did not observe it as it glided past the door.

The figure merged with blackness near the stairs. That was the last visible trace of its presence. Yet the haunting form did not depart. Somewhere within the confines of the building it still trod its mysterious way.

Warren Barringer was in the cardroom. Clark Brosset was in his office. Jasper Delthern had been taken to his own room on an upper floor. Here, at the City Club, were the only three men who could possibly know anything concerning the details of crime at Delthern Manor.

That was the reason why The Shadow lingered. After his weird evanishment from Delthern Manor, he had come to this place — to the spot where he could watch the men who knew!