The Grove of Doom

CHAPTER XVIII. MILDRED CONFERS

THREE days had passed since that fateful night upon the lawn of Lower Beechview. This afternoon, Mildred Chittenden and Craig Ware were discussing matters on the pleasant green, which so recently had flowed with blood.

The police, upon their arrival that night, had been amazed at the carnage. They had begun an immediate questioning, which Harvey Chittenden had answered. Mildred, in turn, had given her story, carefully adding no details other than those her husband had given, for the girl was not anxious to reveal her troubles.

Harvey had said simply that the men located on his place had been aroused by prowlers. They had investigated, and had met with gunfire. They had been killed; and he, Harvey, had been in danger. He explained how he had come out on the porch, but due to the intervention of one of the fighters, had managed to escape alive.

There was no mention of Zachary in Harvey’s story. Mildred, too, in her corroboration, omitted the name of the youngest Chittenden.

During their inspection, the police had made an important discovery, to their way of thinking. Jessup was identified as a missing racketeer from New York, and his companions as lesser mobsters. Harvey was surprised to learn that he had been harboring men wanted by the police.

This section of Long Island had been infested by rum-runners. When the police learned of Jessup’s moderate wage, they nodded knowingly. Harvey Chittenden had been made the blind, without his knowledge. Jessup, starting to muscle in on this territory, had been wiped out by those who controlled the district.

It was not known how many gangsters had escaped, therefore it was assumed that Jessup had been provided with additional forces. Perhaps some of the dead men had been in league with him. It was hard to identify lesser mobsters according to their particular gangs.

Harvey, though annoyed, had answered further quizzes on the morning after the fight. So had Mildred.

All questions pertained to Jessup. When Mildred spoke of the barrels of cement, the police had a new clue. They could not locate the barrels; but there was nothing to prove that Jessup had dumped them in the Sound.

Smuggled liquor was the answer, so they thought. Craig Ware had arrived home early from Connecticut to take up the burden of further quizzes. He, too, had been surprised to learn of Jessup’s sub-rosa activities.

So there the matter rested. Harvey and Mildred remained at Lower Beechview, anxious to aid the police with any possible information. Craig Ware, who had gone through none of the ordeal, was on hand and virtually in charge.

NIGHTS had been quiet since that outburst; still, Mildred Chittenden was miserable. Harvey had been more morose than ever. He was keeping to the house. Mildred, who had said but little so far, was now giving complete details of the battle to Craig Ware. The showman listened with nods while he puffed his pipe.

“We didn’t mention Zachary’s name,” explained Mildred, “because it would have been terrible for Harvey’s own brother to be connected with those gangsters. Harvey has been right — Zachary was bad. Still, I can’t forget how Harvey sent Zachary to his death — and I think it is preying on Harvey’s mind.”

“Nonsense!” exclaimed Ware. “How do you know that anything has happened to Zachary?”

“I don’t think he is at Upper Beechview,” observed Mildred. “There have been no lights up there.”

“Of course not,” laughed Ware. “He would get out of sight quick enough after that.”

“But he spoke of Wilbur and his father—”

“It is all quite obvious to me,” interposed Ware. “The Chittendens — Zachary, at least — were mixed in the rum-running racket. The gangsters that they knew were working with Jessup. You say you once saw a tall man going to the woods and back. Jessup was tall.

“Don’t you realize, Mildred, that the grove yonder would make a wonderful place for storing smuggled liquor? Lower Beechview was the proper outlet — much better than Upper Beechview. Probably they were using this house before we came.”

Mildred nodded. Craig Ware’s explanation accounted for much. Still, there were problems in the girl’s mind.

“What about Walter Pearson?” questioned Mildred. “I saw him go into the grove, Craig. That was not long before he disappeared.”

“Pearson was probably in on the game,” responded Ware. “He was wise enough to get away when the Chittendens began to talk of getting Harvey — and Jessup, who was working his own racket here. I figure that the old man and Wilbur cleared out, too, leaving Zachary to do the dirty work. A mean bunch — trying to hang trouble on Harvey.”

“But, Craig,” protested Mildred. “I went to the grove one day. It was terrible in there — so frightening. I never knew anything so dreadful—”

“Imagination,” smiled Ware.

“I was sure that someone was in there — not someone, necessarily, just some thing that seemed a menace.”

“People were in there, all right — those in the racket. No wonder you were frightened. You may have heard something you could not explain to yourself.”

“I saw a Chinaman come out,” remarked Mildred, in a far-away tone. “A Chinaman named Lei Chang; who spoke of someone called Koon Woon. Maybe it was my imagination, although I am sure Lei Chang talked to Harvey, a fact that frightens me terribly. But I know that it was not my imagination when I saw The Shadow.”

“The Shadow?” queried Ware.

“Yes,” said Mildred. “He was the one who saved Harvey. I spoke of him before, but I guess I didn’t mention his name. One man fought so bravely that the others all broke away.”

“The Shadow? Where did you hear his name?”

“One of the dying men called it out. It sounded terrible to hear that cry.”

“The Shadow,” repeated Ware. “The Shadow.”

“Did you ever hear of The Shadow?” questioned Mildred in surprise.

“The Shadow,” returned Craig Ware thoughtfully, “is said to be a strange and dangerous person. No one knows who he is; some say that he is a myth — others that he is real and active. I have heard his voice over the radio—”

MILDRED suddenly understood. That weird laugh that she had heard last night! She had heard the laugh before over the radio, like Ware, but then it had been in connection with a national broadcast, not under such auspices as the gang attack of last night!

“They say,” declared Ware, “that The Shadow fights with gangsters. Whether he is a crook himself or an agent of the police, no one seems to know. The most essential fact — so I have heard — is that when The Shadow fights, he wipes out crime and disappears. He apparently has had a hand in last night’s fray, which supports my belief that there is nothing more to fear.”

“Nothing but that dreadful grove,” sighed Mildred, looking toward the beeches.

“It seems very peaceful there,” responded Ware, reassuringly. “At night, when all is black, any place looks sinister. But in the daytime, I can see nothing repulsive about those trees.”

“They are driving Harvey mad,” said Mildred. “I am sure of it, Craig. I saw him looking at the grove yesterday, mumbling Zachary’s name. Zachary said some terrible things that night when he was here. He screamed when Harvey drove him into the grove.”

“Harvey must calm himself,” said Ware decisively. “He must rid himself of any fear; and you must do the same, Mildred. Otherwise, life will prove unbearable here. Yet it is wise for you to stay, for a sudden departure might lead police to believe that Harvey was implicated in crime.”

“I do fear the grove,” admitted Mildred. “It seems to cast a terrible spell over one!”

Craig Ware arose from his chair. Smiling he strolled toward the grove. Mildred followed him, placing her hand upon his arm.

“Don’t go in there, Craig!” she pleaded.

They reached the fringe of the trees. Craig Ware stepped forward several paces, and shrugged his shoulders when he came under the shadow of the first beeches.

“A spooky place,” he admitted, “but nothing to be afraid of. If we should beat through here, we would find it to be nothing but a very quiet woods. I think I shall go in a way, Mildred. Will you follow?”

The girl was trembling. She nodded bravely. With a farewell gesture that made the girl cry aloud, Craig Ware entered the area beneath the trees. Mildred, in great trepidation, walked back upon the lawn. Her eyes were fearful as they followed Ware.

The figure of the girl was visible to a man up on the veranda of the Beechview Country Club. Lamont Cranston, who had returned, was watching and now, as Mildred made a move to follow Ware, the tall man arose and started swiftly down the slope.

His progress halted as he saw Mildred turn back toward the house. He guided his steps toward a group of rocks beside a big tree off the fairway. There, unseen from the clubhouse, he drew his binoculars from their case, and watched the girl through the powerful lenses. Cranston was almost within hail of Lower Beechview.

It was sudden fright that had made Mildred turn toward the house. Fancifully, she had imagined that she had heard a strange sound from off within the grove. It reminded her of that hissing whistle which Lei Chang had emitted, those nights when he had visited Lower Beechview.

MILDRED was calling Harvey. Her husband, haggard and glowering, came from the house. Mildred pointed to the grove. She explained the terrible fear that was upon her.

“Craig went in there, Harvey” — the girl’s tone was breathless — “and I am afraid! I am sure I heard something utter a faint sound. Can anything — anything have happened to Craig?”

Harvey Chittenden moved quickly toward the beeches. He stopped and shuddered before he reached the trees. Through his befuddled mind came thoughts of Zachary’s flight through that very grove.

“Craig should not have gone in there!” blurted Harvey. “He should not have gone in! Something might happen to him — as it happened to—”

He broke the sentence and stood staring toward the beeches. Suddenly a man emerged. It was Craig Ware. Smiling, the showman walked up to greet Harvey.

“What’s the matter?” he questioned. “You look as pale as a ghost!”

“Where were you?” demanded Harvey.

“In the grove,” responded Craig Ware, in a matter-of-fact tone. “I didn’t go all the way through — I just wandered around a bit. It’s rather gloomy in there, but I didn’t stay long.”

“Keep out of those trees” — Harvey’s voice was rising to a sharp scream — “Keep out — keep out! I saw my brother — Zachary — run in there. I heard—”

Wild-eyed, he stopped his discourse. Craig Ware stared at him with puzzled expression. The showman looked at Mildred. Harvey Chittenden turned and went suddenly into the house.

“Mildred,” said Craig Ware suddenly, “Harvey must be cured of this terrible worry. You are right; the grove is preying on his mind. It is my task — I must go through there and assure him that there is no danger beneath those trees. He holds a fancied belief that something happened to Zachary, and that he is responsible. It is the last great strain upon his troubled mind.”

Again, the showman turned as though to enter the trees. Then he turned to the girl. He shook his head doubtfully.

“No,” he declared, “my assurance would be in vain. Here I have just told Harvey that I was in the grove, and it drove him wild. He would not believe me if I said that I had scoured the ground beneath those trees. Tomorrow, we must talk to him, Mildred, you and I. Then I shall arrange to have a force of men go through every inch of the terrain. If we can satisfy Harvey that Zachary is not there, dead, and that the grove is nothing but a peaceful woods, then I feel sure your husband’s fears will end.”

Mildred nodded in agreement. Craig Ware’s words were sound. They showed sensible planning.

Tomorrow some definite action might be taken to end this terrible dread. Mildred felt sure it would be a great relief to her, and she hoped the same for Harvey.

The girl was not the only one who had noted Craig Ware’s speech. Lamont Cranston, through his glasses, had watched the showman’s lips and had virtually heard the definite plan that Ware had made.

As Ware and the girl went back into the house, Cranston left his spot of seclusion, and strolled up to the clubhouse.

That night, while the clouded moon sought vainly to test its spectral glow upon the ground below, a vague, dim figure in black glided down past the grove. It appeared — no more than a flitting shape — upon the lawn of Lower Beechview. Then it slid toward the blackish edge of the grove; toward that monstrous umbra that seemed to be stretching forth, ready to creep forward upon those who came within its reach.

All was quiet along the water front. No lights shone in either Upper or Lower Beechview. Motionless trees stood silent in their huge mass. The Shadow had entered the grove of doom — and therein he had remained!