Tower of Death

CHAPTER IX ONE MAN MISSING

DINNER was ended. A new evening had come to Montgard. Stokes Corvin and Sidney Richland were standing on the side veranda, puffing their cigarettes.

From the distant driveway, the two men looked like a pair of toy figures. Yet there was one who formed an odder sight. Jarvis Raleigh, concealed from those on the veranda, yet discernible from the gateway, was pacing the balcony on the second floor front like a captain on the bridge of his ship.

Unseen, a figure was approaching Montgard. Through the dimming light of day, The Shadow was making his way along the drive, hidden by the umbra of the shade trees. His stealthy shape glided to the blackened front of the big building. The Shadow edged his way to a spot beneath the veranda where Corvin and Richland were strolling.

The men had ceased pacing. They were leaning on the parapet. The tips of their cigarettes formed tiny glows above. The Shadow could hear their voices.

“Quite odd,” Corvin was saying. “The antagonism which Jarvis Raleigh showed at the mere mention of Reeves Lockwood.”

“Yes.” The statement was Richland’s. “I fancy the old boy will be in for an unpleasant visit when he arrives tonight.”

“A likable chap, that barrister,” commented Corvin. “I cannot understand Raleigh’s animosity.”

A pause; then Richland spoke.

“I should like to talk with Lockwood,” he said. “I really think that he should know how much Jarvis dislikes him.”

“Why not speak to him when he arrives tonight?”

“Impossible. We are prisoners here, Stokes. To disobey any normal order of Jarvis Raleigh is to forfeit the privilege of remaining.”

“A doubtful privilege.”

“To you, perhaps; but to me, a sole mode of livelihood. Jarvis Raleigh has made it an order that none of us who live here by the terms of his father’s will shall communicate with outsiders.”

“Do you call that a normal order?”

“I have always considered it such.”

“Possibly you are right, old chap,” Corvin pondered. “Yet I think that you can make an exception in the case of Lockwood.”

“Why so?” questioned Richland.

“Because,” asserted Corvin, “he is the administrator of the trust fund that keeps you here. Surely, he cannot be regarded as an outsider.”

“A fine thought, Stokes! You are right. Quite right. I shall make it a point to speak to Lockwood when he arrives tonight. But I shall do so in a subtle manner. When the door bell rings, I shall stroll from the library. Quarley will summon Jarvis Raleigh. When Jarvis arrives to meet Lockwood, I shall appear as if by chance.”

Corvin laughed. He could not help but see the humorous side of Richland’s careful plan to meet a man whom he had every right to see.

“How long will Lockwood be here?” queried Corvin.

“That is hard to tell,” replied Richland. “Sometimes he stays over night. He may choose to do so on this visit. He never stays longer than a single night. Would you like to talk to him also?”

“It is not necessary. I shall remain in the library. I am enjoying some volumes of Dumas that I neglected during my boyhood.”

“Perhaps Lockwood will come into the library with me.”

“If so, I shall have a chance to chat with him.”

A flickering light appeared at a window high above. Stokes Corvin stared upward.

“Barbara’s room,” informed Richland. “She seemed very tired tonight.”

“Yes,” recalled Corvin. “I remember that she complained of a headache during dinner.”

A FLOOD of light came from the library as the oak door was opened. The blinds had been drawn, hence this opening bathed the veranda with a shaft of illumination. Quarley appeared within the door.

“It is dark now, gentlemen,” informed the servant. “It is time to come in from the veranda.”

“One of Jarvis Raleigh’s orders,” said Richland to Corvin. “We are on a curfew basis in this establishment.”

Stokes Corvin laughed as he flicked his cigarette out to the lawn. He turned and followed Sidney Richland into the house. The oak door closed. Clicking of bolts followed.

The Shadow moved stealthily to the front of the house. The upstairs balcony was deserted. Lights in the window beyond it showed that Jarvis Raleigh had also gone indoors.

Half an hour passed. All lay still about Montgard. Then came the distant throb of a wheezy motor. Lights appeared at the end of the driveway as the local taxi headed in through the gates. The headlights of the old sedan lighted a path among the trees. They did not, however, reveal a tall shape that stood as inconspicuous as a tree trunk.

As the car swung to the circle in front of the house, one of the Great Danes came bounding up. The dog, half growling, half barking, leaped to the step of the car. Reeves Lockwood’s voice sounded. The dog seemed to recognize its tones.

A flashlight glimmered. Jerome arrived and the old lawyer called a greeting. Jerome banished the dog and stood aside while Lockwood alighted. The lawyer spoke to the cab driver.

“You can go back to town,” he declared. “I shall not need you. Jerome can run me to the station in his car.”

“You are staying here tonight, sir?” questioned Jerome.

“Perhaps,” replied Lockwood dryly. “It is also possible that I may make the next train to New York. I shall inform you, Jerome.”

Lockwood approached the door. As he lifted the knocker, the cab pulled away, while Jerome waited only until the lawyer was admitted by Quarley. As soon as the front door was closed and bolted, Jerome shuffled away with the big dog.

Up on Jarvis Raleigh’s balcony, the door was closing. The master of Montgard had heard the arrival of the local car. He had peered from his lookout to learn the identity of this visitor.

In the library, Sidney Richland and Stokes Corvin had heard the knocking on the door. Rising, Richland crept toward the door and spoke in an anxious whisper.

“Quarley will leave Lockwood in the turret entry,” he said. “He will then go to summon Jarvis Raleigh. It will be a few minutes before the two of them arrive, so I must not proceed too rapidly.”

IT was, in fact, five minutes later when Sidney Richland, standing in the corridor that led past the library, heard the footsteps of Jarvis Raleigh and the servant Quarley. He wondered why the arrival had been so long delayed. Had Quarley loitered or had Jarvis Raleigh decided to keep Reeves Lockwood waiting?

Jarvis Raleigh stopped on the step of the center passage while Quarley pulled back the bolts that opened the door to the turret. Reeves Lockwood, like all other visitors, had been locked in the circular entry pending Jarvis Raleigh’s appearance.

As Quarley opened the door to the turret, Sidney Richland came stumbling forward as though he had merely chanced to pass this way. He stopped abruptly behind Quarley and stood there glancing into the turret.

Quarley was as motionless as a statue. The eyes of his expressionless face were fixed. A gasp came from Sidney Richland as he gazed over Quarley’s shoulder. A sharp exclamation was Jarvis Raleigh’s contribution as the master of Montgard stepped forward to join the other two.

Stokes Corvin had strolled to the library door. Looking down the corridor, he saw the tableau which the three men formed. With a puzzled expression, he hastened forward and came up behind the three. He saw the reason for their amazement.

The front door that led outside was still triple-bolted. It had not been touched. No one could have departed by that direction. Yet the turret, silent as a tomb, was empty, without sign of a living man.

Reeves Lockwood, unwelcome visitor to Montgard, bearer of important information, was no longer in the circular entry. He had vanished as completely as if a hand from the void had plucked him into another world!

Jarvis Raleigh was the first man to move. He stepped into the empty turret and stood there, gazing all about him in singular fashion. A queer, insane leer appeared upon his lips.

“He is gone!” Raleigh’s words came with a snarl. “He is gone — the meddler — like others who went before him. Away from here — all of you!”

Jarvis Raleigh’s footsteps clicked upon the tiling. Stokes Corvin withdrew toward the library. Sidney Richland started down the central corridor toward the stairs. Quarley stepped aside as his master closed the inner door and bolted it.

Without another word, Jarvis Raleigh turned and took the corridor that would lead him to his own quarters on the second floor. Quarley stood immobile. The old servant seemed to accept this strange event as an ordinary occurrence.

OUTSIDE the huge house, the figure of The Shadow still lurked among the trees. Minutes passed in long procession. The Shadow’s cloak swished. The black-clad watcher was making his departure.

The Shadow had seen nothing wrong in Montgard. He had assumed that Reeves Lockwood had decided to remain over night. For once, The Shadow, trailing crime, had been unable to catch a solitary inkling of a most amazing mystery.

Less than one hundred feet from the spot where The Shadow had been lurking, a strange disappearance of a living man had been effected. The closed outer door of the central turret had blocked The Shadow’s view, as the inner door had hidden the occurrence from the eyes of those within.

Reeves Lockwood had gone into nothingness and The Shadow, as yet, had gained no inkling of that astounding fact!