“That,” interposed Zachary, “was because you did not know the vocation of our new employees. Like Jessup, they are tough gangsters - temporarily retired. There are others available if necessary, should emergency arise.”
WILBUR CHITTENDEN whistled softly. He realized now the purpose of these extra hired men, whom his brother had employed ostensibly to look after the widespread estate. They had impressed him as rowdies when they had first arrived. Zachary had arranged quarters for them in the garage, where they slept at night.
“Someone is always on duty here,” remarked Zachary. “That is why Jessup has been seen on his brief excursions. But Jessup has not in any way been molested nor will he be.”
“Why is Jessup coming here?” demanded Wilbur suddenly.
“Wilbur,” answered Zachary seriously, “you must always try to put yourself in the other man’s place - even when the other man is such a low form of humanity as our eldest brother Harvey.
“What is our main purpose in life? To see that Harvey is disowned. Did you ever reason that Harvey might be gratified if we were disowned? Let us consider Lower Beechview as the enemy’s camp - with Harvey in charge and Jessup as his spy. In some way Harvey must manage to injure us. To do that, he must learn all that is possible. Wise enough to lie back, he lets Jessup do the preliminary work.”
“And when that is finished?”
“Harvey will open some negotiations. He will try some way to frame us. When he does, it will be our part to appear completely duped. Let him play his hand; then return with our trumps.”
Zachary was on his feet now, leaning against the parapet of the terrace. He lighted a cigarette, and its glow showed bright in the deepening dusk. Wilbur could not see his brother’s face.
“I wonder” - Wilbur spoke in a tone of partial bewilderment - “just what happened between Harvey and Pearson. More than that I wonder -“
Zachary held up his hand for silence. He flicked his cigarette from the parapet. He stared toward the ground then gave a low whistle. A response came from short distance away and Zachary saw a man approaching through the gloom.
“That you Hunky?” he asked.
An affirmative growl sounded from below.
“Seen anyone?” questioned Zachary of the man.
“Nope,” said a gruff voice.
“Look around a bit,” said Zachary in a low voice. “I thought I saw something like a shadow going over by those bushes. Use your flashlight and if you scare up that bird Jessup, let him get away without noticing him.”
“O.K,” came the growl.
Zachary waited while the inspection was under way. He could see the gleam of “Hunky’s” flashlight moving in and out among the bushes. At length the man returned to report from the ground that no one was in sight. Zachary dismissed him with a laugh. He turned to Wilbur.
“You were saying?” asked Zachary.
“I was wondering,” observed Wilbur from the darkness, “what happened to Walter Pearson. Someone must know about it. The way you figure it, his being gone is to our advantage. Harvey might figure it was to his advantage too, for that matter, because we’ve had a long time to work on that old lawyer.”
“Good reasoning,” laughed Zachary.
“Yes,” responded Wilbur, “but get back to my question. Who is it that knows what happened to Walter Pearson?”
“You would like to know?”
“Yes - if you can tell me.”
Zachary Chittenden approached his brother. He laughed as he stood beside Wilbur. Then he spoke in a suave cryptic tone.
“Mark these words,” said Zachary. “Mark them well; then ask me no more. There is a person who knows what happened to Walter Pearson; and the name of the person who knows is - Chittenden.”
With that, Zachary clapped his brother on the shoulder and suggested that they go in the house. Wilbur followed, in perplexity. A light was turned on from within; its dim glow showed through the curtains of a closed window.
A FEW moments later a vague splotch of black appeared upon the stone of the terrace. In the faint light from the window, the head and shoulders of a man appeared above the edge of the parapet. A figure dropped silently upon the terrace. It stood there, tall and spectral, like a being conjured from thin atmosphere.
The Shadow, phantom of the night, was here. Unseen; undiscovered during the inspection made by Zachary Chittenden’s minion, he had risen like a ghost from outer darkness. He was no clumsy prowler like Jessup; he had come here while daylight still prevailed to listen to Zachary Chittenden’s revelations.
A relentless foe of crime, The Shadow was ferreting every angle of the mystery which surrounded this portion of Long Island. He had passed through the grove last night; he had studied the features of Lower Beechview. Now he was present at the house upon the hill.
Moving from the terrace, The Shadow’s silhouetted form merged with the side of the house. It reached the front and stopped, invisible, as a man came strolling along a path. This was Hunky, the gangster who patrolled the grounds. He went in through a side door and soon returned accompanied by Zachary Chittenden. The two men stopped only a few yards from where The Shadow’s shape had become a mass of blotted blackness.
“Down by the side of the entrance,” growled Hunky. “That’s where I’ve spotted this guy Jessup. Thinks he’s sitting pretty I guess. I didn’t do nothing to make him scram -“
“That’s the ticket Hunky,” said Zachary. “You go through the house. Keep away from that entrance until I tell you it’s O.K.”
Zachary returned to the house accompanied by Hunky. A few minutes later, Zachary reappeared with Wilbur. The youngest Chittenden was subtly suggesting a short stroll to his elder brother.
Wilbur did not demur. The two walked toward the entrance. Zachary was making no observations. He did not see the silent gliding shape of blackness that kept pace beside the driveway. No eye could have noticed The Shadow in the dark.
By the entrance, Zachary gripped Wilbur’s arm, and spoke suddenly in a tone that was low, but clear.
“By Jove, Wilbur,” exclaimed Zachary, “it would be great if one of us could walk in on Harvey - just to say hello and appear friendly.”
“What!” responded Wilbur in astonishment. “Why, Harvey would go mad if -“
“I hardly think so” objected Zachary. “Still” - he paused thoughtfully - “at least an invitation should come from him. Suppose you heard from him, Wilbur. You’d go over to see him alone, wouldn’t you?”
“I guess so,” grumbled Wilbur. “Sure - I can’t see any reason why not.”
The two resumed their progress. They passed the entrance, no longer talking.
When they had gone fifty yards, there was a motion in the bushes beside the gate. Jessup’s gawky form slid momentarily into view and went out of sight behind some trees.
Zachary and Wilbur returned, no longer talking. They went up the drive and into the house. It was then that a silent motion occurred opposite the spot where Jessup had been. The figure of The Shadow assumed its vague shape beneath the dim light of the moon, which was now filtering feebly through scudding clouds.
Silent, ominous, The Shadow stood. From unseen lips came a low sound of shuddering, whispered mirth. It was the laugh of The Shadow - that weird, knowing mockery that characterized this strange unknown master of the night.
The moonlight flickered, then brightened as the clouds spread apart. It shone upon the bare surface of the driveway.
The Shadow was gone.
CHAPTER VIII
THE MIDNIGHT JOURNEY
MORE than twenty-four hours had passed since Zachary and Wilbur Chittenden had held their talk upon the terrace of Upper Beechview. The day had been uneventful. The garage work at Lower Beechview had moved on
