A light came on in the hall. Craig Ware, awakened by the noise, was standing in pajamas, blinking in bewildered fashion. Harvey, fully dressed, was glowering at Mildred angrily.
“What’s the matter?” he demanded. “Where were you?”
“Nothing” - Mildred was gasping - “I was just out on the lawn - walking about. I - I thought you were out there, Harvey.”
“Outside the house?” blurted Harvey. “I? You have been dreaming, Mildred.”
“But you are dressed -“
“Of course. I didn’t go to bed. I was in my room. I heard you rushing up the steps. I came out to see what was the matter.”
More men were arriving now - Jessup and his two companions, from the back of the house. Jessup was clad in trousers and pajama jacket; the others were in pajamas. Craig Ware met them and sent them back.
“It’s all right, boys,” he said quietly. “Mrs. Chittenden had a bad nightmare - that’s all.”
Harvey was darting back to his room. Mildred followed him. He turned on the light. Craig Ware joined them, and Mildred looked from one man to the other.
“You had better go back to bed,” said Harvey. “You have been dreaming Mildred.”
“I can’t, Harvey,” responded Mildred. “I must tell you what I really saw. Men walking on the lawn -“
“Don’t annoy me!” cried Harvey angrily. “You’ll drive me mad, with these wild imaginings!”
Mildred would not stop. Her whole being was terrorized with unexplained impressions.
“I’ve got to talk to you, Harvey!” the girl blurted. “You must answer me. You were up tonight. You must have seen - or heard. Tell me - Craig can listen, too. Who is Lei Chang? Lei Chang - the Chinaman who lives in the grove? Who is Koon Woon? Koon Woon - The Master? Is he the - the” - Mildred groped for a descriptive term, and found one - “is he the dark phantom?”
Harvey Chittenden leaped forward as though to clutch his wife’s throat. Craig Ware intervened. Harvey stepped back and clenched his fists, pounding them against his body.
“You’re driving me mad!” he exclaimed. “Can’t you understand? Isn’t there enough on my mind? Go back to bed! You have been dreaming!”
CRAIG WARE gently urged Mildred to the door. He spoke reassuringly to Harvey, and the young man quieted down. Craig closed the door, and accompanied Mildred to her room. The girl dropped her head upon the showman’s shoulder and began to weep.
“I shouldn’t have spoken, Craig,” she sobbed. “But I was not dreaming. Something terrible is threatening this place. I saw - I saw another man come from the house. A tall man - it must have been Harvey - he was the only one who was up -“
“Be calm,” soothed ware. “Harvey may have gone outside to settle his nerves. He has been very troubled lately.”
“But you believe me, Craig -“
The showman nodded seriously in response to the girl’s pleading words. Mildred looked up and saw a worried expression on Ware’s face. She felt sure that he, too, was experiencing her fears that all was ill.
“Don’t worry,” declared Ware. “I’ll stay here tomorrow night, Mildred, and make my trip to Connecticut the next day. I’ll keep watch for the rest of this night. Tomorrow night, too. Jessup and his men can be on guard after that.”
“I really saw those persons,” Mildred said in a low, positive voice. “The Chinaman who talked to somebody, and called himself Lei Chang; the other creature who glided across the lawn, all in black -“
The girl stepped away and went into her room. She dropped upon the bed and lay there, weakly. Craig Ware went downstairs and lighted the lamp in the living room. Its glow was visible to Mildred, and it was comforting. But as she lay there, thinking, Mildred recalled Harvey’s anger.
She had thought that he was the man from the house who had gone to the woods. Perhaps that was wrong; but of one fact, Mildred was now convinced. The person to whom Lei Chang had talked must have been none other than her husband!
Her thoughts changed. She recalled the mysterious being clad in black. Where was he now? Was he in the cellar of this house? What had he done during the interval since she had seen him last?
Mildred would have been amazed had she known the proximity of The Shadow. Harvey and Craig Ware were not the only ones who had heard her outburst in Harvey’s room. Beyond the window had been a form in black - the figure of an unseen listener who had scaled the wall to hear.
Now, with every fact that Mildred had uttered firmly fixed in his mind, The Shadow was watching Lower Beechview from a spot that Mildred would never have suspected. The tall, spectral figure had become a blotted shape of black, resting upon the bench beside the shore.
From that spot, keen eyes were visualizing the scene as Mildred had described it. A soft, whispered laugh shuddered through the night air. The Shadow’s master mind was finding answers to the riddles that surrounded this place.
The keen eyes turned to the grove. There, they were focused steadily as they tried to penetrate the solid gloom. Within that grove lay mystery and doom, which even yet were taxing the mighty genius of The Shadow.
Things here had reached a stage of impasse. The answer to the mystery must come from another source. The Shadow would have to draw upon his vast knowledge now.
CHAPTER XIII
THE SHADOW PLANS!
LAMONT CRANSTON glanced at this watch. It was nearly six o’clock. He stood up and looked across the golf links. It was late afternoon, on a quiet day. The grove of beeches was placid beneath the setting sun. The roof of Upper Beechview glistened from the rays of sinking light. The house at Lower Beechview was partially obscured by dusk.
Upper Beechview - Lower Beechview - the grove between. Those were focal points in a baffling set of problems. Of the three, the grove was most mysterious and sinister. Yet the houses, too, were of great importance in the matter.
Last night, a mysterious figure in black had hovered about Upper Beechview, to learn the plans of Zachary Chittenden. The same phantom shape had appeared in timely fashion at Lower Beechview to see what was happening there.
Now, Lamont Cranston, a very quiet, easy-going individual, had finished an afternoon of leisurely observation from the country club. His strolling gait, as he entered the clubhouse, indicated the greatest unconcern.
At a writing desk, Cranston scorned the pen and ink. Instead, he used a fountain pen of his own. He wrote a line on a sheet of paper and let the ink dry. As he watched, the writing disappeared. This was The Shadow’s test of the ink he used in all his messages to his agents.
Satisfied by the test, Cranston wrote a note in code and folded the paper promptly, to seal it in an envelope. He repeated the operation with a second sheet and envelope. These messages could be read only by the men for whom they were intended. After that, the writing would vanish too quickly for a wrong recipient to have time to work out the code.
Using the club pen, Cranston addressed the first note to Harry Vincent; the second to Clyde Burke. These were two of his trusted agents. He left the envelopes at the clerk’s desk, and stated that he was going into town; but that friends might call, in which case they should receive the messages.
In a telephone booth, Cranston called a number, and a quiet voice responded.
“Burbank,” it announced.
“Instructions,” answered Cranston. “Vincent to club at half past seven. Burke to club at eight. Messages waiting.”
“Instructions received.”
“Report on Mann.”
“Data delivered.”
The conversation ended. Through Burbank, his secret contact-agent, The Shadow - at present Lamont Cranston - had completed arrangements for tonight.
A limousine came up to the portico of the clubhouse. Lamont Cranston descended the steps, an attendant
