The Grove of Doom

CHAPTER VIII. THE MIDNIGHT JOURNEY

MORE than twenty-four hours had passed since Zachary and Wilbur Chittenden had held their talk upon the terrace of Upper Beechview. The day had been uneventful. The garage work at Lower Beechview had moved on toward completion. Lamont Cranston had spent a quiet day at the country club. Neither Wilbur nor Zachary Chittenden had moved from their house.

Wilbur, as was his custom, had spent a few hours with the field glasses. He had seen Harvey and his wife upon the lawn of Lower Beechview, and had noted Craig Ware with them. He had seen Jessup superintending the job on the garage. Zachary had been in telephone communication with an attorney in New York. He had arranged an appointment at an early date.

Now late in the evening, the two sons who lived at Upper Beechview were lounging about the big living room. Galbraith Chittenden was there also, dozing in an easy chair. The old man’s clean-shaven face was like yellow parchment, a noticeable contrast to his white hair. Neither of his sons seemed to pay the slightest attention to him.

A telephone bell rang. Wilbur went to answer it. Zachary threw a glance toward Galbraith Chittenden and saw that his father had not heard the ring.

It was several minutes before Wilbur returned. The elder brother made a sign to Zachary. The two withdrew to an adjoining room.

“It was Harvey,” said Wilbur in a tense low voice.

“Oh yes?” questioned Zachary in feigned surprise. “What did he want?”

“He talked rather abruptly,” declared Wilbur. “He said that he was very anxious to see me. He was rather cordial, and seemed to be worried about something. Of course, he naturally supposed that I might be surprised to hear from him so unexpectedly; but I listened well, and when he took on a pleading tone, I played up to it.”

“Trying the big-brother stuff, eh?”

“Not exactly, but to some degree. Maybe he thought I was going to hang up on him, but after our discussion of last night, I worked in with his line of talk.”

“When does he want to see you?”

“Immediately. He said that too many barren years have gone by; that he has something on his mind and would like to unburden it. I promised him that I would say nothing to you or the old man. Just a quiet visit — that’s all.”

“Come out on the terrace,” suggested Zachary. “Let’s talk this over a bit more.”

THE two men went through the living room. A huge police dog rose and followed them. The brute nudged its nose against Wilbur’s hand as the brothers stopped at the doorway to the terrace.

“Go on back, Beowulf,” commanded Wilbur, and the dog obeyed with a short whine.

On the terrace, Wilbur leaned over the parapet and stared toward twinkling lights across the blackened grove. Someone was still up at Lower Beechview, that was evident.

“I hadn’t expected this,” observed Wilbur thoughtfully. “I guess if I had received the call a few nights ago, I might have refused. Then again, I might have decided to go down and see Harvey. He suggested that I come quietly — he is alone tonight — as every one else has gone to bed. He said that I could make it very quickly if I cut down the hill and across the golf course through the grove.”

“Why not drive down?” asked Zachary.

“I suggested that,” responded Wilbur, “and he explained the reason. The driveway to Lower Beechview has been cut off temporarily. It would be a long walk anyway. He talked as though he would like to come up here, but felt he couldn’t. With you and father here — leaving his wife alone — all that, you know—”

“How did his voice sound?”

“As much like Harvey’s as I could expect. I haven’t talked to him for ten years, Zachary. It just hit me, though, from his tone, that things might be settled better by seeing him than by not.”

“Why?”

“Well, the big-brother stuff was rather illuminating. He mentioned how much he liked Lower Beechview, how satisfied he was with life, how youthful ideas changed when men grew older. It gave me a distinct impression that he might be willing to pass up his share of the old man’s estate. That would be great — if it’s what he means. By the time I was through listening to him, I was all set to go, except for one reason.”

“What was that?”

“Your talk last night, about Jessup being a mobsman — the way you thought it best to protect this place. The idea of a coming battle impressed me, Zach.”

“That means nothing right now,” declared Zachary. “Maybe I’m wrong — although I don’t think so. Perhaps Harvey has turned soft-hearted. On the other hand, this may just be a preliminary negotiation before real trouble starts. Under the circumstances, I’d go down there, if I were you.”

“You would?”

“Certainly. What can you lose? It will give you an opportunity to size up Harvey. It will be a friendly gesture on your part. If a show-down comes later on, we can convince the old man that you went personally to patch things up with Harvey. You know how much father wants a reconciliation brought about.”

Wilbur nodded. This turn of affairs was promising. He agreed with Zachary. Still, he showed a certain reluctance about starting out alone.

“I’m still worried about Jessup,” Wilbur began.

“Forget it,” laughed Zachary. “I’ll fix that.”

“How?”

“Well, I’ll send two of these men of mine down there. I’ll let them skirt the woods and spot Harvey’s house from front and back. Nothing’s going to bite you at Harvey’s — not right away anyhow. If you want help, you know the signal.”

Zachary emitted a low whistle. A minute later a man appeared beneath the parapet.

“Hello Banks,” greeted Zachary. “Where’s Hunky?”

“Over in the garage,” came the reply.

“Go over there and wait until I call you,” said Zachary. Then after the man had gone, he said to Wilbur:

“See how they work? Always on the job. If you need them at Lower Beechview, give a whistle.”

“All right,” agreed Wilbur.

AS though by agreement, the two men went down the steps from the terrace and walked across rough ground to the path that led down the hill. They knew the way perfectly, despite the darkness of the night.

Zachary went part way down the hill; then paused to say good-bye to Wilbur.

“Play the game, old top,” he said. “Don’t let Harvey kid you and don’t tell him you said anything to me. Remember, the eldest son in the Chittenden family gets the gravy. Keep that in mind.”

“I’ll remember it,” laughed Wilbur gruffly. “If Harvey wants to give away his birthright, he’ll find a welcome recipient.”

Moving down the hill, Wilbur Chittenden found himself thinking over what Zachary had said. He felt that he might strike luck when he talked to Harvey. Perhaps Harvey had made money; at least he was in sole possession of Lower Beechview. A deal tonight, whereby a real reconciliation would take place — that would fit in well with Wilbur’s selfish schemes.

Strangely, Wilbur felt a strong inclination to meet Harvey. They had not seen each other for ten years.

The one point that had ended their brotherhood was the matter of Harvey’s claim upon Galbraith Chittenden’s large estate. If that could be completely eliminated, why should Harvey and Wilbur be enemies?

His own interests were Wilbur’s greatest demand in life; now that there was a chance to further them, he began to hasten on his way. He recalled Harvey as a boy — a patient long-suffering fellow who was not to blame because he was the pampered son.

As he reached the border of the golf course, Wilbur was feeling in a friendly mood; then suddenly all his suspicions arose again as he tramped across the smooth lawnlike grass.

In the midst of a surge of antagonism toward Harvey, Wilbur recalled Zachary’s last encouraging words:

“Remember — the eldest son in the Chittenden family gets the gravy.”

Harvey was still the eldest son; Wilbur could not forget it. If Harvey were eliminated, all would be well.

Harvey, in turn, would inherit all if the younger boys were disowned. A curious complication.

Wilbur paused at the edge of the grove. Just outside the pale of those fateful trees, he turned, intending to go back. He wanted to talk with Zachary some more.

Zachary! A younger brother. Wilbur wondered, there in the clouded moonlight, why he had come to rely so much upon Zachary. He and Zachary were companions in a warfare for possession. Then, for the first time, Wilbur began to realize Zachary’s viewpoint.

What would Zachary profit by Harvey’s elimination? Very little, for he would be the younger of two recognized sons. Until now, Wilbur had admired Zachary’s cunning; now he saw a craft in the man that he had not understood before.

What if Zachary were the only son? What if Wilbur were eliminated as well as Harvey?

The thought was a terrific shock to Wilbur Chittenden. It acted as a mighty spur to his doubtful mind.

Why side with Zachary, from whom he could gain nothing of consequence? Why not team with Harvey, who might be induced to give up his rights?

Talk with Zachary now? No thought could have been more repugnant to Wilbur Chittenden’s mind. His hesitation ended. He strode directly toward the grove with long, eager steps.

UP on the hill, Zachary Chittenden was watching his brother’s progress. He was standing still as he noted Wilbur’s hesitation. Then, when he saw Wilbur march into the black mass of trees, Zachary laughed.

Perhaps some psychic wave had told him what was in Wilbur’s mind. Whatever the case might have been, Zachary appeared pleased when he saw Wilbur swallowed in that mysterious spread of darkness.

Zachary Chittenden turned and went back to Upper Beechview. He found his father sound asleep in the chair. The big dog, Beowulf, looked up. Seeing Zachary, not Wilbur, the beast placed its nose between its paws.

Entirely forgetful of his promise to send men who would be within range of Wilbur’s call, Zachary went upstairs to bed. Watching from his window, he could see the twinkling lights of Lower Beechview, toward which Wilbur Chittenden had gone.

He could not see the sloping hillside, the spot where he had stood. Perhaps it was well that the area was out of view; perhaps, had Zachary been able to see it, he would have detected nothing. Nevertheless, someone was present near the place from which Zachary Chittenden had watched his brother enter the grove.

A tall, eerie phantom had emerged from the darkness that enshrouded Upper Beechview to view the scene below. The Shadow had arrived from a tour about the grounds just after Wilbur Chittenden had reached the edge of the grove. He had stood beside Zachary. He had heard the youngest Chittenden’s dry laugh. He had seen Zachary return to the house.

Now, with swift strides, The Shadow was descending the hill. Scurrying clouds erased the moon as the tall form stalked across the links. Then The Shadow, like Wilbur Chittenden, was buried in the weird grove among the trees that seemed haunted by day as well as night.

Half an hour later, the shape of The Shadow reappeared, this time beneath a dull moonlight. The being in black stood upon the lawn of Lower Beechview. The lights of the lower house were extinguished. All was silence here.

The phantom form moved silently about the grounds. Then, after a long and careful inspection, it approached the grove and became a still patch of black beside the darkness cast by the trees.

The Shadow, who could move with perfect silence; the personage whose stealth could not be heard nor seen when danger lurked; again had he passed through the grove of doom unmolested. But the man who had gone before him was nowhere to be seen.

Wilbur Chittenden had passed into complete oblivion when he had entered the shroud of those mysterious trees! Another victim had fallen prey to the menace that inhabited the grove of doom!

Some shrewd schemer was at work; some terrible power was in action. It required more than mere coincidence to account for the disappearance of this man before The Shadow could arrive to warn him.

Yet The Shadow, although he could trespass where it meant death to others, was still in search of the answer to this latest mystery. The world knew nothing of the menace within the grove of doom. Only The Shadow could hope to solve the riddle.