The Grove of Doom

CHAPTER IX. CHITTENDENS MEET

IT was the next afternoon when old Galbraith Chittenden stepped out on the terrace of his home, to find his son Zachary staring speculatively from the high parapet.

The night before, Galbraith had appeared extremely aged, dozing in his easy chair. Today, the old man was alert and keen. He bore himself with a stern, pompous dignity that had been his characteristic posture for many years.

Turning to see his father, Zachary Chittenden noted at once that Galbraith was incensed about something.

The old gentleman had a habit of arousing himself from a lethargy whenever anything disturbed his comparatively peaceful existence.

His eyes were sharp as they looked at Zachary.

“Where is Wilbur?” demanded Galbraith querulously. “Where has he been all day?”

“I haven’t seen him, father,” answered Zachary, in a subdued tone. “That is, I haven’t seen him since last night.”

“The young ingrate!” growled Galbraith. “Well does he know that I wanted him here at home today. Yet I have not seen one sign of him. A favor-currying son who is never on hand when needed.”

“I haven’t seen Wilbur all day,” said Zachary thoughtfully. “It has troubled me, father. I have been wondering about it.”

“That dog of his!” snarled Galbraith. “Whining, whining, whining. It annoys me! It must stop!”

Zachary Chittenden approached his father. Despite his malicious nature, the youngest of the Chittenden boys possessed a remarkable faculty for soothing his aged parent. In fact, it was this one element that had so long kept peace upon the hill.

Galbraith Chittenden’s mind had rankled for years over Harvey’s absence. At times, the sight of Wilbur and Zachary incensed the old man, but always, Zachary could ease the situation by subtle comment.

“Father” — Zachary’s tone was serious — “I am really anxious about Wilbur. I must talk to you — about something that is worrying me — something that you ought to know—”

Galbraith Chittenden’s rage subsided. Father stared at son, and saw that the young man was troubled.

Nodding his head in parental fashion, Galbraith requested Zachary to step into the living room. As the two entered, Beowulf the big dog, came bounding over to Zachary, then turned away and whined as it lay down in a corner.

“You see?” questioned Zachary. “Beowulf knows that something is wrong. Father, I must speak to you in closest confidence — about Wilbur — and about Harvey.”

“Wilbur and Harvey?” The old man’s temper flamed. “Always that trouble between the two. And you, Zachary — you are like Wilbur—”

“I bear no animosity toward Harvey,” protested Zachary. “I scarcely remember him — I was so young when he went away—”

“Ah, yes,” declared Galbraith. “Wilbur and Harvey were at odds. Yet you sided with Wilbur. Still, Zachary, that was not your fault. Wilbur was the closer to your age. He had a constant influence over you.”

“I always remembered Harvey,” said Zachary, in a reflective tone. “I always regretted the quarrel between him and Wilbur. But I fear that Wilbur must be in the right.”

“Why?”

“Because he stayed here, with you. That, at least, was the duty of a good son.”

ZACHARY had picked a certain thrust. Galbraith Chittenden — as self-centered as any member of the family — was greatly impressed by Zachary’s subtle statement.

“You are right, Zachary,” he said. “You are right. Wilbur was faithful — although I still feel that Harvey wants his father’s friendship. That is why I have always recognized him as my eldest son. My own father disinherited his elder son. I could never make that mistake with my elder boy, unless — unless I had full proof of his enmity.”

“There is one way of settling that matter, father.”

“How?”

“By visiting Harvey.”

“Never!” Galbraith Chittenden drew himself up proudly. “Harvey must come to me — then I shall welcome him! But I shall not go to his home.”

“Not even if it would give you certain proof?” questioned Zachary. “Not even under circumstances that might definitely declare Harvey’s position toward you?”

“How do you mean?” asked Galbraith sharply.

“I am thinking of two people,” said Zachary thoughtfully. “First, Walter Pearson. He went to see Harvey. He made no gain toward a reconciliation. Then, suddenly, Pearson disappeared. I am wondering why.”

“You mean” — Galbraith frowned — “that Pearson’s visit to Harvey may have had something to do with his disappearance?”

“Exactly.”

“Outrageous!” exclaimed Galbraith. “You are as unfair as Wilbur! I shall disown you!”

The old man was seething with indignation. Rising, he shook his fist threateningly at Zachary. The young man was unperturbed. He met his father’s gaze firmly, and responded in a quiet tone that caused Galbraith’s rage to subside.

“One moment, father,” said Zachary. “Hear me out. I did not make this statement immediately after Pearson’s disappearance. I am speaking now because of something that has occurred since Pearson vanished. That is why I wanted to speak to you today. This concerns both Wilbur and Harvey.”

The old man stood stock-still, his anger gone because of the surprise which now gripped him. Zachary followed with his calm, easy tone.

“Last night,” said the young man, “Wilbur went to see Harvey, in hopes of effecting a reconciliation. He did that without telling you, because he wanted to please you.”

“Wilbur!” cried Galbraith, with a sudden change of heart. “Bless the boy! Why did you not tell me this before, Zachary?”

“Because Wilbur spoke to me in confidence, father. I was as pleased as you are now. I was happy about it, until today. Now, I am troubled — miserably.”

Zachary’s concern seemed real. The young man was seated with his head in his hands, staring across the floor. Galbraith Chittenden sat down beside him, and spoke in a worried tone.

“Tell me, Zachary,” requested the old man. “What is the matter?”

“Wilbur went to see Harvey,” asserted Zachary. “because Harvey called him. That is a most important point. It shows how willing Wilbur was to effect a reconciliation. Harvey specified that Wilbur should come alone, without telling anyone. But Wilbur was so enthused over it, that he could not resist telling me.”

“So Wilbur went to Harvey! When did he go?”

“About midnight. He promised to return with a few hours, knowing how anxious I was to hear what might have happened. Wilbur has not returned, father. I have had no word from him.”

Galbraith Chittenden took in his breath sharply. He felt a feeling of remorse for having criticized Wilbur without knowing the facts.

“Terrible thoughts have troubled me, father,” confessed Zachary. “I realized last night how big-hearted Wilbur was. It suddenly dawned upon me that Harvey — despite the fact that he is my brother — might be a man of evil. Pearson went to see him. Pearson is gone. Wilbur went to see him. Wilbur is gone. We must not dally, father—”

GALBRAITH CHITTENDEN arose and strode across the room. Pacing back and forth, his ire increased. Zachary watched shrewdly as he calculated the tempo of the old man’s anger.

The police dog arose from its corner and whined. With surprising alacrity, Galbraith Chittenden seized the leash that lay on the table and fastened it to Beowulf’s collar.

“Come!” he cried to Zachary. “Come! We must not lose a minute. We are going to see my son Harvey. I must know the truth. If he welcomes me, we may be reconciled. If he does not, I shall disown him. I can play to his whims no longer. I shall question him about Pearson and about Wilbur!”

The big dog was straining at the leash as the two Chittendens came out upon the terrace. Zachary pointed to the grove that shone, far below, under the lowering afternoon sun.

“It was there that I last saw Wilbur,” said the young man sadly. “He was going through the grove, eager to reach Harvey’s home as soon as possible.”

“That is the way we shall go,” announced Galbraith.

By the time the men had reached the bottom of the hill, the police dog was nearly choking on its leash.

Only Galbraith’s firm, restraining hand prevented the beast from breaking loose across the golf links, which were now deserted.

“He is following Wilbur’s trail,” stated Zachary, and Galbraith nodded.

UP on the slope beside the clubhouse, a tall man garbed in golf clothes was watching the progress of the Chittendens. This was Lamont Cranston. Keen eyes flashed as the club member saw the police dog heading for the woods. Cranston began to stroll down the slope, then paused and waited.

The police dog had stopped at the edge of the woods. The sound of its whines could be faintly heard.

Galbraith Chittenden was encouraging the dog to enter the grove, but the beast would not respond.

Zachary was watching from a short distance away.

When Cranston saw the two figures turn and lead the dog toward the shore, he sauntered back to the clubhouse, where he took a seat on the veranda, at a spot which commanded a view of the lawn of Lower Beechview.

At the edge of the grove, Galbraith Chittenden was still trying to encourage the police dog, even though he and Zachary were moving toward the shore.

“Come, Beowulf!” cried the old man. “What ails this dog, Zachary?”

“It is Wilbur’s dog,” responded the son.

“Certainly,” declared Galbraith. “It wants to find Wilbur. Then why does it stop before it reaches these trees?”

The old man made another effort to force the big dog into the beeches. The animal responded until it was well under the edge of the overhanging boughs. There, it whined and refused to budge. Furiously, Galbraith dragged the dog forward.

With a loud, piteous whine, Beowulf broke away and struggled back to the golf links, Galbraith Chittenden following despite his strongest efforts. As the old man tried to pull the beast from the dipped green grass, Beowulf snarled viciously.

“We should not have brought the dog,” observed Zachary. “Come, father; let us go around by the shore. Those thick woods frighten the beast. It is longer, but our objective is to see Harvey.”

Agreeing to it now, Galbraith accompanied his son, and Beowulf went in docile fashion as the two men skirted the grove, taking the narrow strip between the trees and the water. After a long course, they suddenly reached the rocky water front of Lower Beechview, and came on to Harvey Chittenden’s lawn.

Three people were seated in comfortable chairs. Harvey Chittenden, his wife and his friend, Craig Ware, looked up to see the sudden approach of the men from the hill.

HARVEY CHITTENDEN recognized his father and brother immediately. He sprang to his feet and clenched his fist. This unannounced invasion of his property was something that he had not anticipated.

Galbraith Chittenden stopped short, when he caught his eldest son’s hostile gaze.

“What does this mean?” demanded Harvey.

Galbraith Chittenden, aroused by his son’s ire, met the challenge promptly.

“Where is Wilbur?” came the old man’s question.

“Wilbur?” quizzed Harvey. “Oh, so that’s Zachary with you! Why should I know where Wilbur is? Why come here with such an absurd question?”

“He came to see you last night!” retorted Zachary.

“He did?” Harvey’s question was sardonic. “Well, if he came here, it was of his own volition. Whatever has happened to him is his own making. I am not responsible for the affairs of Upper Beechview.”

“Where is Walter Pearson?” demanded Galbraith furiously. “He came to see you. Wilbur came to see you. Both are gone!”

“Good riddance!” shouted Harvey, now fully incensed. “And you two will be gone — off these premises. Get out, and look for your own. Get out!”

As Harvey made a threatening gesture toward his father, the huge dog Beowulf rose and strained fiercely at its leash. Its great jaws opened in a terrific snarl. Mildred screamed as she saw the beast about to leap upon her husband. Only Galbraith Chittenden’s firm restraint withheld the dog.

Quickly, Mildred grasped Harvey by the arm. With all her strength, she dragged him toward the house.

Harvey, too angered in mind to control his actions, allowed himself to be guided by his wife. He paused upon the steps of the porch to voice wild, inarticulate imprecations. Beowulf barked fiercely.

“I’ll give you fifteen minutes!” shouted Harvey. “Off of these grounds, both of you — off to stay!”

“I’ll disown you!” cried Galbraith.

“Do it!” cried Harvey. “I’ve disowned you long ago — thanks to those skulking boys whose talk has influenced you!”

With that, Harvey moved into the house, under Mildred’s charge. Beowulf still snarled as Galbraith Chittenden, his face livid with mighty wrath, clung to the big dog’s leash. Zachary was standing silent at his father’s side. Craig Ware, calm and controlled, was facing the two visitors.

Chittendens had met — and in that meeting, the breach of long-nourished enmity had been widened beyond recall!