The Grove of Doom

CHAPTER XIX. HARVEY SHOWS DECISION

MORNING found Harvey Chittenden standing upon the lawn of Lower Beechview, staring across the hazy surface of the Sound. He had risen at dawn, after a sleepless night. Harvey’s face was haggard; his features were streaked with worry. An unnatural pallor had replaced his normal tan.

Muttering vaguely to himself, the young man turned to encounter Craig Ware. He was surprised to see the showman about at this hour. Ware had still been asleep when Harvey had descended from his room; now, Harvey realized that at least an hour must have elapsed since he had left the house.

Ware’s frank face was serious. Coming close to Harvey, the showman placed his arm upon the young man’s shoulders. There, in the midst of this placid scene, Ware spoke in a tone that was encouraging.

“Harvey, boy,” said the showman, “it’s time you awoke from your troubles. You’ve been through a long siege. It’s ended now. Something is preying on your mind; why not unburden it to me? If there is anyone in whom you can confide, I am the one.”

“You are right, Craig,” responded Harvey thoughtfully. “Perhaps I have been wrong in keeping my problems to myself. I feel — feel that I–I, Harvey Chittenden — am responsible for great crimes.”

“I hardly think so, Harvey,” returned Ware.

“Look back and see,” said Harvey. “I wished ill to certain men. Ill has befallen them. Walter Pearson — my brother Wilbur — my father — and my brother Zachary. All are dead. I cursed them, and they have perished.”

“You have no proof of it,” said Ware soothingly.

“It was Zachary who brought me to my senses,” declared Harvey, in a far-away tone. “He tried to kill me, Craig. My own brother tried to kill me, Angered, I threatened him with death when he accused me of those crimes.

“His words were serious; they convinced me of his wild sincerity. What was my response?

“Instead of offering my hand to Zachary, I threatened him. I was ready to kill him. Here, on this very lawn, I was on the point of slaying my brother.”

“You would have been justified, Harvey,” affirmed Ware. “He sent a band of murderers to get you. When they failed, he tried to do the dirty work himself.”

“But he was helpless, Craig,” insisted Harvey. “Helpless and at my mercy. Then I drove him to his doom. I heard him plunging through the woods. I heard him scream. I thought then as you think now; that he had gained what he deserved. But now I feel that I was wrong. Zachary — the last of my relations — dead — somewhere among those trees.”

“Nonsense, Harvey,” objected Ware. “You have no proof of it. I walked into the grove yesterday afternoon. I could see no sign of anyone. What could have harmed Zachary? You saw nothing, did you?”

“No,” demurred Harvey, “but I heard his frightened cries. The memory of them rings constantly in my mind. What could have happened, Craig? I know that Zachary is dead — but—”

HARVEY’S tone had taken on a strange sound. It seemed that his thoughts and words were apart. He might be asking a sincere question; he might be deliberately seeking to conceal his true impressions. Craig Ware studied him narrowly.

“There is only one answer, Harvey,” said the showman. “This matter must be settled — today.”

“How?”

“By beating through those woods. I shall obtain men. We will make a systematic search — more thorough than a brief saunter, such as I took yesterday. If anything is to be found there, we will find it.”

“No!” Harvey’s tone expressed alarm. “We must not bring others into this, Craig! Three of my family have gone into that grove. First Wilbur, then father, then Zachary. All may be there. I could not understand the terror until the night that Zachary fled. To bring men here — to search for those whom I know are dead! I could never permit it, Craig!”

“I’ll go into the grove myself,” announced Ware. “I’ll be more thorough this time. I’ll assure myself that no one is among those trees. Danger? I do not fear it!”

As the showman swung toward the trees; Harvey leaped forward and restrained him.

“No — no” — Harvey’s voice was very hoarse. “Do not go there, Craig! It is not your duty! It is mine, but I fear it!”

“You cannot go on this way,” insisted Ware, in a forceful voice, “You are losing all self-control, Harvey. This matter must be settled. The grove, once searched, will cease to worry you. I have suggested the method. I can go alone, or with others.”

Harvey Chittenden drew himself up proudly. He faced Craig Ware and something in his bearing indicated his decision. Ware’s words had cut him to the quick.

“You are right, Craig,” said Harvey slowly. “I must control myself. I must know that all is well. I must end this fearful reign of doubt. There is but one method. I must enter those woods and make a search. If I find no trace of any of my kin, I shall agree with you. But if any — Zachary most of all — lie dead, it is my duty to find them.”

With firm, measured step, Harvey Chittenden walked straight to the grove of beeches. Craig Ware, almost stupefied, did not restrain him. Something in Harvey’s manner brooked no interference.

Ware saw his companion walk under the boughs of the bordering trees; then advance farther into the mysterious, brownish gloom. A few moments later, Ware was staring only at copper-hued leaves that formed a motionless canopy over a hidden scene.

A STRANGE look came over Ware’s face. Moving toward the trees, he called Harvey’s name. There was no response. Like a man entranced, Ware waited; then, as the silence continued, he turned and strode toward the house.

“Mildred!” Ware’s cry rose to the upper story. Ware listened for the girl’s response.

“Yes, Craig?” Mildred answered from within the front door.

“Come here, quickly!” called the showman.

Mildred Chittenden appeared upon the porch. She viewed Ware with alarm. She could tell from his expression that something unexpected had occurred. The girl ran down the steps. Ware turned and pointed toward the grove.

“Harvey went into the trees!” gasped Ware. “He suddenly decided that he must go — to look for his brother Zachary. I am worried, Mildred, worried because I should have stopped him. I must follow him; but I wanted to tell you first.”

“Come!” Mildred’s decision was a prompt one. “We must both go, Craig. I am afraid for Harvey. We must find him before some harm befalls him.”

Ware hurried with Mildred to the edge of the grove. He pleaded with the girl to stay here; to let him go alone. Mildred was obdurate. Her dark eyes flashed in indignation.

“Harvey is my husband, Craig,” she stated. “There is no time to lose. Both of us are needed to rescue him from that terrible place. I am sure that danger lies there. Together, we may be able to discover Harvey sooner. Come!”

Craig Ware nodded. He reached in his pocket and produced a revolver. The showman had kept this gun upon his person ever since his return from Connecticut. There was no friendly smile on Craig Ware’s face now. His features were grim and tense. Like Mildred, he realized that a menace lay ahead.

Precious moments had been lost. Harvey — ahead — nearing the center of the grove! All of Mildred Chittenden’s alarm came both to her mind and to that of Craig Ware. Together, the two advanced swiftly among the trees.

The brownish soil was like a matted pad. The two visitors — man and girl — moved silently forward. They were in the gloom beneath the leaves that never rustled under a huge mantle that subdued all sound, and which, in this early morning light, threw a weird coppery hue upon the faces of the invaders.

Neither Mildred Chittenden nor Craig Ware uttered a sound. They were listening for someone ahead, hoping that they might hear Harvey Chittenden in the distance. Their thoughts were their own. Neither dared offer a cry to disturb this spectral stillness.

Lost from the outside world, pacing through strange corridors of irregular formation, seeing only tree trunks that looked alike, the two pursued their direct way through the grove. They could not tell exactly how far they had gone. The laden boughs above seemed as limitless as the sea.

Not even the twitter of a bird came from the branches above. Not even the buzz of an insect could be heard beneath the trees. They were in a grove of gloom — within the spell of a doomed area that pressed its silent warning like an enfolding pall.

They were nearing the center of the grove, now. Mildred was sure of that, yet despite her fear, the girl kept pace with the man beside her.

Had some strange fate befallen Harvey Chittenden? Mildred could not tell. She only knew that the oppressiveness of this terrible spot signified that some dread disaster was awaiting!