Tower of Death

CHAPTER XVII THE INTERLUDE

THREE nights had passed since the raid on Montgard. Twilight, settling over the secluded estate, showed Stokes Corvin pacing the veranda at the side of the house.

All had been quiet since the excitement. The sheriff’s posse had patrolled the grounds only for a single night. Crippled mobsters, quartered in the local jail, offered no more explanation than did their dead companions.

The strange evanishments of Reeves Lockwood and Merton Helmsford were apparently closed issues. Yet these disappearances, thought they had remained undiscussed, were not forgotten. Somehow, all within Montgard seemed to be waiting for what was to come.

Jarvis Raleigh had maintained a silent routine, staying in his own quarters except at dinner time. Quarley, taking up Jerome’s chief duty, made circuits of the house after dark, accompanied by the Great Danes. He performed this service in addition to his regular duties.

Stokes Corvin had maintained a wise silence; while Barbara Wyldram had copied his discretion. Only Sidney Richland had shown odd behavior. As wild-eyed as the harmless Maria, Richland had paced about the house, mumbling incoherent menaces. The man was brooding; that fact was plain to all.

Finishing a smoke, Stokes Corvin flicked his cigarette from the veranda as he heard a footfall at the door. He supposed that Quarley had arrived to summon him indoors. It was nearly time for the servant to patrol the grounds.

Turning, Corvin observed Sidney Richland instead of Quarley. Richland appeared excited as he beckoned to the man on the veranda. Corvin entered the library and Richland drew him to the front corner.

“I’ve talked with Jarvis.” Richland’s tone was low but excited. “I went up to his laboratory after dinner. I caught him in a friendly mood.”

“Why did you wish to speak to him?” inquired Stokes.

“Because” — Richland paused as Barbara entered the room and took a chair — “because I had an idea. That’s why. Listen, Stokes. I told him that I was worried because Quarley went down town every night to get the mail. I told him it was a mistake to leave the house unprotected.”

“What did Jarvis say?”

“He asked what I thought should be done about it. I told him” — Richland’s lips formed a cunning smile — “that I would be pleased to go instead.”

“Did he agree?”

“Yes. He considered the matter for a time; then said that I was to tell him when I was ready to leave. He said that he would instruct Quarley to let me leave the house. I can drive the old roadster to—”

“One moment, Sidney.” Stokes Corvin was serious in his interruption. “You’re telling me only half, old chap. There’s some other reason why you wish to go to Glenwood. I wager that I can guess it.”

RICHLAND stared and nodded slightly.

“Who might you see downtown?” Corvin put a question that he was prepared to answer for himself. “I shall tell you. That sheriff chap — Burton Haggar — would be the logical fellow. Haggar is interested in affairs up here at the manor. Perhaps he would like to hear about Lockwood and Helmsford.”

“That’s just it,” declared Richland, persisting in his crafty smile. “I don’t mind you knowing it, Stokes. I’m going to see Haggar. I’m going to tell him what he ought to know, without Jarvis Raleigh learning of it.”

“Listen, old fellow.” Corvin was more serious than before. “Take my advice and remain here. I guessed what your real reason is. Do you fancy that Jarvis failed to conjecture it also?”

The smile faded from Richland’s lips. The man stared as he tried to recall his interview with Jarvis Raleigh. At last, he shook his head.

“I don’t think so,” he declared. “I don’t believe that Jarvis saw through my game. I didn’t talk to him as I have just talked to you, Stokes.”

Stokes Corvin shook his head in disapproval. Sidney Richland seemed to resent his attitude. Moving toward the door to the passage, Richland removed his pince-nez and gestured emphatically with the glasses as he spoke.

“The situation is too wearing,” he declared. “I can tolerate it no longer. I am going downtown. I expect to see Burton Haggar, to tell him all—”

Richland stopped abruptly as he caught a warning gesture from Stokes Corvin. Quarley had entered the room in his stealthy fashion. The old servant’s face was rigid. There was something about the cadaverous continence to indicate that he had overheard Richland’s interrupted statement.

Seeing that the three people were all in the library, Quarley solemnly bolted the door to the veranda. Without a word, he turned and went back to the passage. Sidney Richland approached Stokes Corvin.

“Do you think that Quarley overheard me?” questioned the man with the spectacles.

“I am sure he did,” returned Corvin soberly. “Take my advice, Richland. Remain here. All is quiet for the present. It is better to await developments.”

“Such as the last one?” queried Richland. “Not a bit of it. I am going downtown, Stokes. Once I am there, I shall regain my courage. I want freedom; I intend to obtain it.”

“Do not go.” Corvin’s voice was firm. “It is not safe, Sidney, to make a single move out of the ordinary. Something is sure to develop that will give us an inkling to the mystery which shrouds this place.”

RICHLAND placed his glasses on his nose and threw back his shoulders. The man made an odd, defiant figure.

“My plan is completed,” he declared. “Nothing can make me alter it.”

Barbara Wyldram had been listening. Rising, the girl stepped forward and placed her hand on Richland’s arm. She added her plea to the one that Stokes Corvin had made.

“Don’t go, Sidney,” begged Barbara. “Stokes is right. We do not know what lies ahead.”

Sidney Richland’s lips showed a frenzied expression. Angrily, the man drew away from Barbara’s grasp. Stepping to the door, he wagged a finger.

“Enough of this persuasion!” he exclaimed. “I am going to tell Jarvis that I am ready to depart. I shall not be balked in my plan!”

With that, Richland turned and paced rapidly down the passage. Barbara looked pleadingly at Stokes as she heard the footsteps fade.

“What can we do?” questioned the girl, anxiously.

“Nothing, now,” decided Corvin, solemnly. “Sidney has gained permission from Jarvis Raleigh. I might go upstairs and request that it be revoked.”

“No.” Barbara shook her head. “Sidney would object; that would lead to a discovery of the truth. We can only hope that Jarvis does not suspect his true purpose.”

“Yes,” agreed Corvin, “and if I try to intercept Sidney at the front door, it would mean a scene in Quarley’s presence.”

“We cannot stop him,” stated Barbara.

“We can only wish him luck,” asserted Corvin.

The girl went toward the door that led to the passage. She hesitated there. Stokes Corvin approached and laid his hand upon her arm.

“Don’t worry, Barbara,” he said, soothingly. “After all, Sidney’s plan may bring results. He had been acting strangely; the tension was sure to break. Let us sit down and resume our reading, as though nothing were at stake.”

“As soon as Sidney has left,” agreed Barbara. “Until then, I shall watch. I want to be sure that he makes an untroubled departure.”

“Keep watch, then,” suggested Corvin. “Inform me if anything unexpected occurs.”

STOKES Corvin strolled across the library to obtain the book that he had been reading. He was standing near the corner of the room when he caught, a low tone from Barbara.

“Sidney is at the front door,” whispered the girl, as she stared from the doorway. “Talking to Quarley. He must be asking him if the car is ready. Quarley’s nodding.”

“What else?” questioned Corvin, mildly.

“Sidney is unbolting the door himself,” informed the girl. “Apparently he intends to let Quarley lock up after him. Sidney has entered the turret. Quarley is closing the inner door and bolting it.”

There was a pause while Barbara watched. Stokes Corvin replaced the book on the shelf and moved toward the door, speaking in a puzzled tone.

“That’s odd,” he said, “that Quarley should bolt the inner door. He should have gone into the turret to bolt the outer door also.”

Barbara raised her hand as Corvin approached.

“Quarley has remembered,” whispered the girl. “He is coming back. He is unbolting the inner door—”

Stokes Corvin was looking over Barbara Wyldram’s shoulder. Together, they stared along the passage. Quarley had evidently remembered his oversight. He was drawing back the third bolt of the inner door. They saw him open the barrier.

Quarley stood stock-still. He stared into the turret entry. He made no motion; yet there was something in his attitude that gripped the watchers.

“Come!” Corvin uttered the order as he stepped past Barbara. He hurried along the passage, with the girl chose behind him.

As they reached the junction of the three corridors, they heard new footsteps. Jarvis Raleigh had come down from the second floor. The master of Montgard uttered an angry exclamation to Quarley.

“Stop him!” ordered Raleigh. “Stop Sidney! I want to talk to him again. I believe the scoundrel has tried to trick me.”

Quarley turned. His cadaverous features were immobile. His hand, as it pointed toward the turret, alone announced what the servant had seen. Stokes Corvin — Barbara Wyldram — Jarvis Raleigh — all three arrived to stare into the turret.

The bolts of the outer door were shut. No one could have departed by that exit. Yet the gloomy turret entry was empty. Sidney Richland, like Reeves Lockwood and Merton Helmsford, had vanished from among the living!