The Grove of Doom

CHAPTER VII. AT UPPER BEECHVIEW

LATE the following afternoon, two young men appeared upon a terrace of the huge house on the crag above Long Island Sound. From this vantage point of Upper Beechview, they commanded a wide sweep of the terrain below. The clubhouse of the golf course was obscured by a corner of the mansion; aside from that, every detail of the surrounding territory was visible in panorama.

One of these observers held a pair of field glasses. In the dimming light, he made a careful inspection of the ground that lay between Upper Beechview and the grove; then his hands raised so that he could plainly see what was going on at Lower Beechview.

The young man with the field glasses was Wilbur Chittenden; his companion was his brother Zachary.

Their secretive actions indicated that this spying procedure was not a new custom. Evidently they had been practicing it for days.

Wilbur Chittenden lowered the field glasses and uttered a growl of displeasure. Wilbur bore a marked resemblance to his elder brother Harvey, the present occupant of Lower Beechview. Only the pallor of his face — a sharp contrast to Harvey’s coat of tan — would have enabled an acquaintance to have told them apart.

Zachary, while he possessed the Chittenden facial characteristics, was quite different in appearance.

Harvey and Wilbur were tall; Zachary was short. Wilbur, like Harvey, was mature and self-possessed; Zachary had the face of a weakling. Nevertheless the youngest of the Chittendens was impressive in his shrewdness. His physiognomy denoted the schemer; a malicious smile was constantly upon his lips; and he bore himself in domineering fashion.

Of the two, Wilbur would have been the more formidable in physical combat, but Zachary appeared to be the cleverer.

“Nothing important down there, Zach,” growled Wilbur. “It riles me to think that the beastly cad is living so close to us. I had hoped that he was gone to stay.”

“Yes?” questioned Zachary with an ugly laugh. “You’re counting too much on hope, Wilbur. Now that Harvey is back, you can be sure that he is here to stay — and we might as well make the best of it.”

“Make the best of it?”

There was a significance in Wilbur’s echo that showed he had caught the import of his younger brother’s words. Zachary laughed again and sprawled himself in a reclining chair below the high parapet of the terrace. Wilbur seated himself and looked dubiously toward his brother. It was plain that he expected Zachary to offer some sound advice.

“LISTEN, Wilbur,” declared Zachary. “While you’ve been spending your time looking through those glasses and cursing to yourself, I’ve been doing some constructive thinking. More than that, I’ve been acting.”

“How?”

“In a very efficient manner. Following hunches — using my head as well as my eyes. Figuring how the present situation can be turned to our advantage.”

“I don’t see anything to our advantage,” protested Wilbur. “Harvey is back. Pearson has walked out of the picture. There’s no way for us to work things the way we want them. Harvey will patch matters up with the old man and that will be the end of it.”

“Yes?” Zachary’s tone was sarcastic. “Well, Wilbur, I was younger than you when Harvey went away. You were the chief cause of his going. I helped to make matters unpleasant for him, but at that time, I followed your lead. Now that he is back, it is my turn to do the heavy work.”

Wilbur Chittenden nodded. He was a stubborn fellow, who held an intense hatred toward his favored brother Harvey, but Wilbur was unquestionably blunt in method, and he recognized Zachary’s subtle superiority.

“Wilbur,” said Zachary, in a low tone. “I’ve been preparing for trouble ever since I knew that Harvey was coming back. I didn’t tell everything to you, because I wanted to watch developments. But you can believe me when I tell you that affairs are turning favorably to us. There’s just one factor that you have failed to consider.”

“Which is—”

“That Harvey is a Chittenden — just as set in purpose as the rest of us. He has come back here looking for trouble. He is going to find it, and that will prove his undoing.”

Wilbur Chittenden was listening intently; but his impatience showed itself in his next words.

“Trouble for Harvey?” he demanded. “I can’t see how that is developing. We have tried to convince the old man that he ought to cut off Harvey, but he always insisted that there would be a reconciliation. He sent Pearson to arrange it and Pearson didn’t get far, I’ll admit. But now” — Wilbur paused speculatively — “just where is Pearson? How can we work on the old man while his lawyer is missing?”

“Pearson,” responded Zachary calmly, “was our greatest obstacle. He represented the family for years.

He was a stickler for precedent. He had no luck when he tried to make friends with Harvey. That proved my point — that Harvey is short-tempered. But Pearson would be keeping on with his friendly efforts still — except for the fact that Pearson is no longer here.”

“I’m puzzled about that,” persisted Wilbur.

“Why be puzzled?” questioned Zachary softly. “Why should you care? It has left us the opening that we need. You knew how fussy our esteemed father has become. He’s worrying night and day about Pearson. He has lost confidence in a lawyer who departs for places unknown.

“That, in my mind, is very much to our advantage. Before Pearson returns” — Zachary smiled shrewdly — “if Pearson ever does return, Galbraith Chittenden will have a new attorney. I have arranged for that.”

WILBUR clapped his fist upon his open hand. He was unrestrained in his admiration of his brother’s craftiness.

“A great idea, Zach!” he exclaimed. “We get the new lawyer in; then we start again about the will. Our man sides with us. The old man capitulates. Harvey will be cut off — with only Lower Beechview in his grasp.”

“Exactly,” returned Zachary. “Galbraith Chittenden will have two sons — Wilbur, the elder; Zachary, the younger — just as we have so often planned it. Provided that Harvey helps.”

“That Harvey helps?” asked Wilbur incredulously.

“Certainly,” said Zachary. “He began to help when he antagonized Pearson. That was not sufficient. But with our lawyer on the job, all that remains is for Harvey to clash with us as he did with Pearson. That will turn our father’s mind completely against him.”

“Very good,” said Wilbur. “Very, very good. You are getting there, Zach. But what is going to start all this strife? As far as I can see it, Harvey never leaves Lower Beechview. There has to be a cause of war, you know.”

“There already is a cause,” said Zachary, in a confidential tone. “If you spent less time admiring Harvey’s bride through those glasses, and looked over some of the other people on the place, you might know more than you do now.”

“The others?” asked Wilbur, in surprise. “You mean that middle-aged bird who came on ahead to watch the workmen — Craig Ware, I heard his name is — the one who sits around all day—”

“Not Ware,” said Zachary, with an evil smile. “I’m thinking of the gawky gentleman in overalls — the chief workman. He lives at Lower Beechview, too. His name is Jessup. “

“Jessup?” quizzed Wilbur. “How did you find that out?”

“I’ve looked him over uptown,” said Zachary. “I’ve seen him other places, too. Particularly, around here.”

“Around here? You mean that Jessup is spying on us?”

“Exactly. But I haven’t stopped him. He’s a good snooper, that fellow. I’ve seen him watching you; I’ve seen him watching me; but I haven’t let on.”

“How did you learn about him? What is he?”

“A pretty tough customer,” said Zachary. “He used to do contracting work, out West. That’s probably where Harvey met him. He came East, went broke, and tied up with a racket. New York City isn’t such a healthy place for Mr. Jessup, right now.”

All this appeared to be surprising news to Wilbur Chittenden. He stared open-mouthed at his brother and waited for further information. Zachary took his time in divulging. He liked the effect that he was creating.

“I’m no simple-minded soul,” declared Zachary. “Long Island Sound is a mighty profitable place for racketeers, especially when the rum-running is in season. Those boys like to know the home folks. I’ve made a few useful acquaintances.”

Wilbur nodded. Zachary had said something of this before, but Wilbur had paid but little attention to it.

Now, however, with a Harvey Chittenden connection, Wilbur could see where Zachary’s questionable friends might play a part.

“Gangsters,” resumed Zachary, “are easily spotted by those who know them. I figured this fellow Jessup was more than a mere workman. So I pointed him out to some of the — some of my friends. They recognized him. It looks very much as though those workmen who are with him are others of his same kind.

“Now what is Jessup’s purpose? He’s working for Harvey. Retired from the phony racket business? Perhaps” — again Zachary’s tone became ironical — “and perhaps not. If Harvey anticipates trouble” — again the sarcasm — “or if Harvey is making trouble, Jessup would be mighty useful to him.”

“What are we going to do about it?” asked Wilbur anxiously.

“You mean,” returned Zachary, “what have I done about it? Well, brother Wilbur, while you have been mooning through your glasses and father has been doing nothing, I have been attending a bit to affairs on Upper Beechview. For one thing, I have hired some extra help.”

“Three men, yes,” agreed Wilbur. “I didn’t see why we needed them around the place, with two hired men already on the—”

“That,” interposed Zachary, “was because you did not know the vocation of our new employees. Like Jessup, they are tough gangsters — temporarily retired. There are others available if necessary, should emergency arise.”

WILBUR CHITTENDEN whistled softly. He realized now the purpose of these extra hired men, whom his brother had employed ostensibly to look after the widespread estate. They had impressed him as rowdies when they had first arrived. Zachary had arranged quarters for them in the garage, where they slept at night.

“Someone is always on duty here,” remarked Zachary. “That is why Jessup has been seen on his brief excursions. But Jessup has not in any way been molested nor will he be.”

“Why is Jessup coming here?” demanded Wilbur suddenly.

“Wilbur,” answered Zachary seriously, “you must always try to put yourself in the other man’s place — even when the other man is such a low form of humanity as our eldest brother Harvey.

“What is our main purpose in life? To see that Harvey is disowned. Did you ever reason that Harvey might be gratified if we were disowned? Let us consider Lower Beechview as the enemy’s camp — with Harvey in charge and Jessup as his spy. In some way Harvey must manage to injure us. To do that, he must learn all that is possible. Wise enough to lie back, he lets Jessup do the preliminary work.”

“And when that is finished?”

“Harvey will open some negotiations. He will try some way to frame us. When he does, it will be our part to appear completely duped. Let him play his hand; then return with our trumps.”

Zachary was on his feet now, leaning against the parapet of the terrace. He lighted a cigarette, and its glow showed bright in the deepening dusk. Wilbur could not see his brother’s face.

“I wonder” — Wilbur spoke in a tone of partial bewilderment — “just what happened between Harvey and Pearson. More than that I wonder—”

Zachary held up his hand for silence. He flicked his cigarette from the parapet. He stared toward the ground then gave a low whistle. A response came from short distance away and Zachary saw a man approaching through the gloom.

“That you Hunky?” he asked.

An affirmative growl sounded from below.

“Seen anyone?” questioned Zachary of the man.

“Nope,” said a gruff voice.

“Look around a bit,” said Zachary in a low voice. “I thought I saw something like a shadow going over by those bushes. Use your flashlight and if you scare up that bird Jessup, let him get away without noticing him.”

“O.K,” came the growl.

Zachary waited while the inspection was under way. He could see the gleam of “Hunky’s” flashlight moving in and out among the bushes. At length the man returned to report from the ground that no one was in sight. Zachary dismissed him with a laugh. He turned to Wilbur.

“You were saying?” asked Zachary.

“I was wondering,” observed Wilbur from the darkness, “what happened to Walter Pearson. Someone must know about it. The way you figure it, his being gone is to our advantage. Harvey might figure it was to his advantage too, for that matter, because we’ve had a long time to work on that old lawyer.”

“Good reasoning,” laughed Zachary.

“Yes,” responded Wilbur, “but get back to my question. Who is it that knows what happened to Walter Pearson?”

“You would like to know?”

“Yes — if you can tell me.”

Zachary Chittenden approached his brother. He laughed as he stood beside Wilbur. Then he spoke in a suave cryptic tone.

“Mark these words,” said Zachary. “Mark them well; then ask me no more. There is a person who knows what happened to Walter Pearson; and the name of the person who knows is — Chittenden.”

With that, Zachary clapped his brother on the shoulder and suggested that they go in the house. Wilbur followed, in perplexity. A light was turned on from within; its dim glow showed through the curtains of a closed window.

A FEW moments later a vague splotch of black appeared upon the stone of the terrace. In the faint light from the window, the head and shoulders of a man appeared above the edge of the parapet. A figure dropped silently upon the terrace. It stood there, tall and spectral, like a being conjured from thin atmosphere.

The Shadow, phantom of the night, was here. Unseen; undiscovered during the inspection made by Zachary Chittenden’s minion, he had risen like a ghost from outer darkness. He was no clumsy prowler like Jessup; he had come here while daylight still prevailed to listen to Zachary Chittenden’s revelations.

A relentless foe of crime, The Shadow was ferreting every angle of the mystery which surrounded this portion of Long Island. He had passed through the grove last night; he had studied the features of Lower Beechview. Now he was present at the house upon the hill.

Moving from the terrace, The Shadow’s silhouetted form merged with the side of the house. It reached the front and stopped, invisible, as a man came strolling along a path. This was Hunky, the gangster who patrolled the grounds. He went in through a side door and soon returned accompanied by Zachary Chittenden. The two men stopped only a few yards from where The Shadow’s shape had become a mass of blotted blackness.

“Down by the side of the entrance,” growled Hunky. “That’s where I’ve spotted this guy Jessup. Thinks he’s sitting pretty I guess. I didn’t do nothing to make him scram—”

“That’s the ticket Hunky,” said Zachary. “You go through the house. Keep away from that entrance until I tell you it’s O.K.”

Zachary returned to the house accompanied by Hunky. A few minutes later, Zachary reappeared with Wilbur. The youngest Chittenden was subtly suggesting a short stroll to his elder brother.

Wilbur did not demur. The two walked toward the entrance. Zachary was making no observations. He did not see the silent gliding shape of blackness that kept pace beside the driveway. No eye could have noticed The Shadow in the dark.

By the entrance, Zachary gripped Wilbur’s arm, and spoke suddenly in a tone that was low, but clear.

“By Jove, Wilbur,” exclaimed Zachary, “it would be great if one of us could walk in on Harvey — just to say hello and appear friendly.”

“What!” responded Wilbur in astonishment. “Why, Harvey would go mad if—”

“I hardly think so” objected Zachary. “Still” — he paused thoughtfully — “at least an invitation should come from him. Suppose you heard from him, Wilbur. You’d go over to see him alone, wouldn’t you?”

“I guess so,” grumbled Wilbur. “Sure — I can’t see any reason why not.”

The two resumed their progress. They passed the entrance, no longer talking.

When they had gone fifty yards, there was a motion in the bushes beside the gate. Jessup’s gawky form slid momentarily into view and went out of sight behind some trees.

Zachary and Wilbur returned, no longer talking. They went up the drive and into the house. It was then that a silent motion occurred opposite the spot where Jessup had been. The figure of The Shadow assumed its vague shape beneath the dim light of the moon, which was now filtering feebly through scudding clouds.

Silent, ominous, The Shadow stood. From unseen lips came a low sound of shuddering, whispered mirth.

It was the laugh of The Shadow — that weird, knowing mockery that characterized this strange unknown master of the night.

The moonlight flickered, then brightened as the clouds spread apart. It shone upon the bare surface of the driveway.

The Shadow was gone.