Tower of Death

CHAPTER XVIII WORD FROM WITHOUT

THE next evening found a silent trio gathered at Jarvis Raleigh’s dinner table. Sidney Richland’s place was conspicuously empty. Barbara Wyldram, pale and nervous, kept glancing toward the blank space where the missing man should have been.

Jarvis Raleigh was irritable. He voiced no comment; but his eyes, sharp and suspicious, were quick with their occasional glances toward the two who dined with him. Stokes Corvin, positive that he was the one whom Raleigh watched most intently, maintained an easy calm.

The disappearance of Sidney Richland had created consternation the night before. The discovery of the empty turret had finally brought an outburst from Jarvis Raleigh. The owner of Montgard had ordered Quarley to lock the house. He had told Stokes Corvin and Barbara Wyldram go to their rooms. They had obeyed.

It was apparent, here at dinner, that both Stokes and Barbara were willing to follow Raleigh’s orders. Yet their reasons for obedience differed. Stokes Corvin, confident in his quiet fashion, was biding his time; Barbara, half terrified by the new mystery at Montgard, was too bewildered to protest.

Occasionally, the girl glanced toward Stokes Corvin. Receiving a confident gaze in return, Barbara managed to withstand the ordeal through which she was passing. While Stokes Corvin was at Montgard, Barbara Wyldram felt that she possessed a protector.

“So Sidney has left us!” The snarled comment was Jarvis Raleigh’s first reference to the disappearance of last night. “A meddlesome fellow, Sidney. He wanted to go downtown last night to get the mail. A pretext to leave this house. Well, he has gone. He should be satisfied, wherever he may be.”

“We should be worried about Sidney,” protested Barbara, feebly. “He was one of us; he depended upon our friendship—”

“Be silent!” stormed Jarvis Raleigh, pounding the table with his fist. “Sidney Richland was not welcome here. I am not concerned with what may have happened to him. He is like those others — Lockwood and that detective! They came here of their own accord. I did not invite them!”

The speaker glared fiercely in Barbara’s direction. The girl shrank back in her chair. Raleigh’s gaze turned. The master of Montgard glared at Stokes Corvin.

“Well?” Raleigh’s voice was testy. “What have you to say? Are you worrying about that cur, Sidney Richland?”

“Not at all,” replied Corvin, quietly. “The mail is my concern. Sidney went out to procure it last night; he has not returned with it.”

“Don’t worry about the mail,” Jarvis Raleigh cackled. “We shall receive a double batch of it. I told Quarley to get it back here before we had finished dinner.”

Stokes Corvin nodded approvingly. He had noticed that Quarley had left the dining room some minutes before. While Corvin was still nodding, Maria entered and began to clear the table. The woman was wearing her vacant stare. Her cracked lips were moving in silent speech.

FOOTSTEPS sounded in the passage from the front. Quarley appeared, bringing the mail that Jarvis Raleigh had promised. The servant passed a small packet of letters to his master. Jarvis Raleigh tossed two envelopes to Stokes Corvin; he kept one for himself.

Corvin opened the first envelope. It contained an advertising letter from a New York store. He opened the second and began to peruse the contents of this letter when he heard a chuckle from Jarvis Raleigh.

“Speaking of visitors,” announced Raleigh, “we shall have a welcome one tonight. My friend Lamont Cranston will pay a new visit to Montgard. He thinks well of my gold extractor. He wishes to talk terms.”

Stokes Corvin was meditative. His forehead furrowed as he folded his own letter and thrust it into his pocket. He remained silent as Jarvis Raleigh arose to leave the dining room.

“I shall be in my laboratory, Quarley,” stated Raleigh. “Admit Mr. Cranston in the usual fashion. Announce his arrival to me.”

“Yes, sir,” replied the cadaverous servant.

As soon as Jarvis Raleigh had departed, Stokes Corvin arose. He nodded toward Barbara Wyldram. The girl accompanied him to the library. Alone in the secluded room, they began a tense conversation.

“Something may happen tonight, Barbara,” confided Stokes. “I believe that the climax of strange occurrences is due.”

“Did your letter—”

“Please don’t question me, Barbara,” interposed Corvin. “Just do as I suggest. Go to your room; remain there until I call you.”

“And after that—”

“We shall leave Montgard. I have remained here solely on your account, Barbara. Our departure seemed unwise; but after tonight, we can leave.”

“You mean—”

“That we need not fear the future. I am not dependent, Barbara, upon the petty legacy which enables me to live at Montgard. Nor should you be. We can leave — together — for England.”

The girl’s eyes opened. Though hesitant, Barbara began to view the prospect with a smile. She placed a hand upon Stokes Corvin’s arm.

“I have relied upon you, Stokes” said the girl. “Perhaps it is well that you do not tell me what the immediate future holds. I shall continue to depend upon you. Yet I am afraid—”

“Because of Sidney?”

“Partly. More, though, on account of this man who is coming here tonight. Lamont Cranston seemed a kindly person. I should not like to see harm befall him.”

“Do not worry.” Corvin spoke firmly. “Rely upon me, Barbara. No matter what occurs, remain in your room until you hear me call. I promise you that we shall then be free.”

Barbara nodded. She picked up her book and went from the library. Stokes Corvin lighted a cigarette. He peered along the passage.

Satisfied that Quarley was not about, the young man unbolted the door to the veranda. Leaving it ajar behind him, he strolled to the parapet and stood there gazing out into the night.

THERE was a sound from the ground below. Quarley, serving for Jerome, was making the rounds with the Great Danes. Stokes Corvin drew back to the door and stood against the barrier, holding his cigarette low, so even its glimmer would not show. Quarley passed along toward the stables. Corvin advanced to the parapet.

The young man finished his smoke with short puffs. He flicked the cigarette stump out unto the lawn; then turned and made his way softly to the door. He edged into the library and closed the door behind him. He shot the bolts.

The action was just in time. Corvin had scarcely seated himself with a book before Quarley appeared at the door of the library. Pretending that he had been reading, Corvin looked up in startled fashion.

“Where is Miss Wyldram?” questioned Quarley, in his monotone.

“She has retired,” responded Corvin. The servant turned. His footsteps sounded dully in the passage. Stokes Corvin arose. He carried his book with him and rearranged it on the shelf, along with the other volumes of Dumas. Then he stole quietly toward the door of the library and stood there, listening.

A smooth purr came from the front of the house. Corvin recognized the sound of Lamont Cranston’s foreign motor. The car came closer; Corvin heard it stop out in the drive. Softly, the young man stole to the door that led to the veranda. He drew back the bolts.

There was a ring from the front door bell. Moving to the door to the passage, Corvin peered cautiously. He saw Quarley arrive and unbolt the big door to the turret entry. The servant went into the entry. One minute later, he returned and closed the door. He pressed the bolts in place and took the central passage to summon Jarvis Raleigh.

Lamont Cranston had arrived. Stokes Corvin was sure of that fact as he stepped back into the library. Corvin’s face wore a firm smile. The climax was at hand. Tonight, the long vigil which Stokes Corvin had kept would be crowned with the achievement for which he had hoped.