The Ghost Of The Manor

CHAPTER XVII THE SHADOW’S PRESENCE

SEVERAL nights had passed since the deaths of Humphrey Delthern and Wellington. Jasper Delthern was seated at the big desk in the upstairs study of Delthern Manor. His heavy bulk made a better impression in the huge chair which his older brothers had occupied before him.

An evil smile flitted over Jasper’s face. The new head of the Delthern family, the heir to one half of the thirteen millions, Jasper Delthern was well satisfied with the turn of affairs.

No one had advanced the theory that Winstead Delthern had been murdered; nor had the police changed their opinion regarding the deaths of Humphrey and Wellington. Detective Terwiliger was still trying to obtain some trace of a mythical burglar.

The telephone rang on Jasper’s desk. The leering man picked up the instrument, and broadened his smile as he heard the voice at the other end. He engaged in a short conversation which terminated suddenly as he heard footsteps in the outer hallway.

It was Holley, the former chauffeur, who had taken over Wellington’s duties. The servant had come to announce that Police Chief Gorson was downstairs with Detective Terwiliger.

“Send them up,” ordered Jasper. Then, half aloud, after Holley had left: “I wonder what’s on their minds tonight?”

Jasper’s question was soon to be answered. Gorson wore a serious expression when he entered the study, while Terwiliger strutted with a knowing air.

“Good evening, Mr. Delthern,” said Gorson. “We came to confer with you. I want you to hear what Terwiliger has to say. He is forming a new theory on this case.”

Jasper motioned to chairs, and sat back in his own, while he coldly studied his visitors. There was nothing of the wastrel in Jasper’s appearance now. The man was quite sober; in fact, his habits had been temperate ever since he had taken over the control of Delthern Manor.

“It’s about your brother Winstead,” began Terwiliger. “I’ve been wondering about his death, Mr. Delthern. It struck me sort of odd that he should have died just before Humphrey was murdered.”

Jasper nodded thoughtfully. “Winstead’s death was very sudden,” he agreed. “But I can’t see how it could have a connection with Humphrey’s murder.”

“No?” quizzed Terwiliger. “Well, look at it this way. Maybe Humphrey’s murder had something to do with Winstead’s death.”

“That’s simply putting the question the other way.”

“Maybe. Maybe not. But I like to get at the beginning of everything. I’ve just been thinking — suppose that Winstead’s death was murder, too.”

Jasper Delthern opened his mouth in amazement. He stared from Terwiliger to Gorson. He noted the serious expressions on the faces of both men.

“You don’t mean” — Jasper’s voice was filled with awe — “that my poor brother Winstead—”

“I mean,” interrupted Terwiliger, “that Winstead’s death looks mighty suspicious.”

There was a long pause. Jasper began to nod. Police Chief Gorson motioned to Terwiliger to continue.

“A fall down the stairs,” said the detective. “Accidental cause maybe. That’s what everyone thought. But if it wasn’t an accident, then there’s more to this affair than I thought.”

“You mean a plot?” queried Jasper, in an anxious tone. “If that is the case—”

“Don’t worry, Mr. Delthern,” interposed Gorson. “There’s going to be no more killings while I’m around. We’ll have detectives on hand. Terwiliger wants to stay here himself while he investigates. That’s the first step.”

“If you are asking my approval,” responded Jasper, in a relieved tone, “you may have it this very minute. You have alarmed me, chief. It is terrible to think that Winstead may have been murdered. But it worries me tremendously to hear you suggest that my own life may be in danger.”

“No danger,” said Terwiliger methodically.

“This is very serious,” asserted Jasper, shaking his head. “Something must be done at once.”

“Leave it to Terwiliger,” insisted Gorson. “He will have a free hand. He can start here, and go wherever he likes. I’m giving him all leeway.”

The chief’s declaration brought a response from the detective. Terwiliger rose to his feet and thumped his heavy fist against the palm of his other hand.

“Winstead Delthern was murdered!” he announced. “So was Humphrey. It’s all part of the same game. I don’t know what’s in back of it; but I’ll promise you something. You, Mr. Delthern — you, Mr. Gorson — mark my words! Right here in this room, when both of you are here again, I’ll bring in the evidence that will get the man who was behind those killings!

“Remember that. I swear to it! I’ll carry the evidence in this fist of mine, and I’ll plant it here before you!”

The detective was at his best. His square form was drawn to its full height. Chief Gorson was quick to express his approval of the detective’s spirited remarks.

“Terwiliger means it, Mr. Delthern,” asserted Gorson. “I’ve heard him talk this way before. He’ll come into this room — while you and I are here — and he’ll lay down the evidence. That’s a fact!”

“I hope so,” said Jasper seriously. “I shall aid you in every possible way, Terwiliger.”

“I think it would be advisable,” suggested Gorson, “for Detective Terwiliger to remain here from now on. He believes — no cause for alarm, Mr. Delthern — that the murderer may return to this scene of crime.”

“A very good theory,” responded Jasper. “I shall arrange a room for you, Terwiliger.”

“I’ll just bunk down in the living room,” said the detective. “I want to look around a bit tonight.”

He arose, as though assuming that the matter was settled. Chief Gorson followed. Jasper came from behind the desk to join them. The three went downstairs. Terwiliger, stopping in the hallway, looked back at the steps.

“That’s where Winstead Delthern fell,” he recalled, in a voice that sounded dramatic amid the gloomy setting of the hallway. “That is the way the murderer made his escape. He reached this very spot. Then—”

The detective turned slowly. He pointed to the living room as a possible avenue to escape; then to the front door; finally to the sliding doors that hid the great reception hall.

“Maybe through there,” he suggested. “That may be the way the murderer went!”

“Hardly,” laughed Jasper. “There’s no possible exit from the place.”

Terwiliger advanced and slid back one door. Jasper and Gorson followed him. As they entered the great room, Jasper remarked that there were no electric lights. He struck a match and lighted the tapers in the candelabrum.

BOTH Gorson and Terwiliger stared wonderingly about the room. The feeble illumination imparted an impression of vastness. The outline of the whispering gallery seemed sinister as it loomed in the fringe of gloomy light.

“A spooky place,” remarked Gorson. Even the gruff police chief seemed awed.

“My grandfather,” observed Jasper thoughtfully, “believed that the ghosts of his ancestors dwelt in this hall. He believed that his own spirit would remain here.”

“Ghosts do not kill,” growled Terwiliger.

“I do not believe in ghosts,” returned Jasper, with a short laugh.

Mirth was lacking in Jasper’s tone. Something about this room made the new master of Delthern Hall tremble.

Was it the recollection of that night when the heirs had assembled at the stroke of twelve? Or was it some mysterious presence that now inhabited the place?

Gorson and Terwiliger were leaving. Jasper went to the table and extinguished the candles. He turned to follow the others; as he did so, he fancied that he heard a sighing whisper pass through the room. A grim reminder of that terrible laugh that had cast its knell upon this place!

So had that laugh begun — in a rising, sibilant tone. Jasper stood stock-still, trembling in anticipation of a mocking burst that might echo from the walls. But the fearful event did not occur; the murmuring whisper drifted into nothingness. Jasper almost fled toward the door. The eerie sound had chilled him.

Terwiliger planted himself in the living room. Chief Gorson made his departure. Jasper Delthern went upstairs. In the study, behind a closed door, he again picked up the telephone. His tone was guarded as he talked over the wire.

“That dumb dick is here,” he said to an unknown listener, “parked in the living room. Thinks he’s wise to some plot. Guarding me.”

Jasper laughed. Then, in conclusion, he added a final statement that was derogatory to Terwiliger.

“Sure… I’ll forget all about him… I’ll keep my eye on him tomorrow… Just a joke; that’s all he is.”

Hanging up the receiver, Jasper prepared to conclude his work in the study. He went through several desk drawers; then arose and stretched himself.

IN the living room, Terwiliger, with one eye open, was looking toward the gloomy hallway. The detective was indulging in theory.

Perhaps it was the occupation of his mind that prevented him from noticing a splotch of blackness that slowly crept from the direction of the great reception hall; perhaps it was the silent slowness with which the dark patch moved.

Whatever the case might have been, Terwiliger did not observe that the sliding door was opening. He did not see the tall form that emerged from the reception hall. A strange figure stood within the hallway. The sliding door was moving shut behind it.

The phantom form became motionless, while burning eyes gazed toward Terwiliger. A being garbed in black waited and watched. Terwiliger closed his eyes. Then the strange shape glided toward the front door.

A few moments later, that door had opened and shut. The same stealthy form was invisible in the outer night. The soft, scarcely audible tones of a sibilant laugh, joined with the creaking of the tree branches above the lawn.

Once again, The Shadow had been at Delthern Manor. It was he who had provided the great reception hall with a ghostly presence. His strange laugh proved that he had learned the events that had taken place within that mansion on this night.

Terwiliger had boasted that he would bring incriminating evidence against a murderer. Jasper Delthern had laughed secretly in derision. That was the status of affairs at Delthern Manor.

The Shadow knew!