surviving heir of Caleb Delthern -“
Clark Brosset sprang to the telephone, holding up his hand as interruption.
“Humphrey must be warned at once!” he exclaimed. “I hardly know the man, but I must warn him!”
“Not that way,” objected Warren, taking the telephone from Brosset. “Wellington will answer; he will ask for a message. You won’t reach Humphrey, and Wellington will suspect.”
“Then we must go to Delthern Manor - one of us at least.”
WARREN pondered. He realized the difficulties of the situation. Jasper Delthern, conspiring with Wellington, was a dangerous and imminent threat. A telephone call; the sudden visit of two men; even the appearance of Clark Brosset at the mansion might give the servant the tip that plans had been discovered.
But it occurred to Warren that should he go alone, Wellington would suspect nothing. The servant had heard Warren bait Winstead Delthern on a previous occasion; he would look for another quarrel, this time with Humphrey.
“Let me handle this,” decided Warren. “We’ve let too many minutes go by already. It would have been best to have stopped Jasper.”
“Hardly,” returned Brosset. “A warning to Humphrey Delthern is the logical suggestion. With Humphrey on his guard, Jasper may be trapped.”
“You are right about the warning,” agreed Warren. “I am leaving right away - straight for Delthern Manor.”
“One moment, Warren!” Clark Brosset’s face was serious as his hand gripped Warren’s arm. “Don’t get into an argument with Humphrey. Be tactful - and if necessary, tell him to communicate with me.
“Remember; this may be serious. If any complications should occur, count on me. This is between you and Humphrey alone. Come back here as soon as you can. Rely upon my aid, and my discretion. Don’t be hasty, Warren!”
“I’ll remember, Clark,” agreed Warren, gripping his friend’s hand. “You’re right - the less said the better. No one will know that I am not here at the City Club -“
“And no one will know where you have gone, even if your absence is noted. After you have gone, I’ll tell the doorman that you are with me, in my office.”
Warren nodded his agreement. Clark Brosset accompanied him to the ground floor; after Warren had left by a side door, Brosset spoke to the doorman at the front.
“I shall be in my office,” he said. “If anyone calls for Mr. Barringer, send the visitor up. Mr. Barringer will be with me.”
RETURNING to the office, Clark Brosset opened the wall safe and removed club records, which he took to the desk. The trace of anxiety on his face showed that he was anxious to learn the outcome of Warren Barringer’s interview with Humphrey Delthern.
Brosset was well acquainted with the stubbornness that had long characterized Humphrey as well as his dead brother Winstead.
Brosset became restless. He closed the record book and sat pensively at his desk. Minutes drifted by; then came a rap at the door. Brosset sprang to the portal, expecting to see Warren Barringer. Instead, he found Bosger, the doorman.
“A gentleman to see Mr. Barringer, sir,” said Bosger.
“To see Mr. Barringer,” echoed Brosset. “Who is the visitor, Bosger?”
“A gentleman who stopped here on his way to New York. His name is Lamont Cranston.”
“Show him up,” ordered Brosset, after a moment’s thought. “I shall speak with him here.”
Pacing the floor with a troubled air, Clark Brosset regretted the untimeliness of this visit. He realized that Warren Barringer might have important details to discuss immediately upon his return from Delthern Manor. What if swift action would prove necessary? What if complications involving Jasper Delthern should arrive?
These troubling questions brought Clark Brosset to a quick decision. He planned to send Lamont Cranston on his way with very little delay.
CHAPTER XI
THE SHADOW LEARNS
CLARK BROSSET looked up from his desk. He closed the record book that he had opened, and arose to greet the gentleman whom Bosger had just ushered into the room.
“Mr. Cranston?” questioned Brosset.
“Yes,” replied the visitor. “You are Mr. Brosset, I presume.”
Clark Brosset acknowledged his identity. He studied his visitor as he motioned Cranston toward a chair. In very short time, Brosset had realized that this visitor was a man of keen intellect. Cranston’s calm face and keenly penetrating eyes were impressive.
“You came to see Warren Barringer?” asked Brosset.
“Yes,” returned Cranston. “I am on my way to New York. I inquired at the Century Hotel, and learned that Barringer was here. The doorman told me that he was in this office.”
“He was here, until a few minutes ago,” declared Brosset. “Perhaps you passed him on the way from the hotel. He may have stopped there.”
“He will be back?”
“I hardly think so. Will you be in town overnight, Mr. Cranston?”
A slight sparkle showed in Cranston’s eyes. That, alone, indicated that the visitor had sensed a hidden motive in Brosset’s sudden question. The president of the City Club had spoken in a casual tone; at this moment, he was picking up the record book from the desk.
“Not overnight,” responded Cranston quietly. “There are two trains - either one suitable to me. The first” - he glanced at his watch - “leaves in about twenty minutes. I shall take it to New York unless I have an opportunity to see Warren Barringer for a few hours. In that case, I can wait for the later train.”
“Too bad,” murmured Brosset. “If you had only arrived ten minutes ago you
-“
“Why?”
“Warren Barringer told me that he was going to Wynndale - a town some thirty miles from here. Driving with friends. Unless some delay occurred, he has probably started.”
“And will not be back here?”
“Not unless the trip has been called off. One moment; I can find out all about it.”
Clark Brosset lifted the telephone. He told the club operator to call the Century Hotel. In another minute, he was talking with the hotel clerk.
“Mr. Barringer, please… Yes… He is? I see… When do you expect him back? Yes… Yes… Very well, then… Never mind… I can call him tomorrow.”
Over the wire, Clark Brosset had heard the clerk stating that Warren Barringer could be found at the City Club. But in his own statements, intended for Cranston’s ears, Brosset had given no such indication.
“Barringer has left,” declared Brosset, as he laid down the telephone. “The clerk says that he started for Wynndale nearly ten minutes ago. He left word that he might not be back tonight. Wynndale is a very popular resort that attracts many visitors from Newbury.”
Picking up the record book, Brosset carried it to the safe, deposited it there, and closed the door. With hand turning a knob, he spoke again to Cranston.
“There will be no need of your waiting for a later train,” stated Brosset. “You can make the station in three minutes from here. There are cabs out front. I am mighty sorry that you missed Barringer. He is an old friend of yours?”
“I met him abroad,” explained Cranston, rising. “He visited me upon his return to New York. I appreciate your interest, Mr. Brosset; I am only sorry that I missed seeing my friend.”
“I shall tell him that you were here,” said Brosset. “He is a member of the City Club, and spends a great deal of time here.”
