“I’m afraid more now than before,” interrupted the girl hastily. “He is so much by himself, as though one subject is constantly upon his mind. I would rather see him angry than silently plotting. It worries me, Craig.”
THE showman puffed thoughtfully at his pipe, then turned to discern the anxious expression upon Mildred’s face. With keen understanding, Ware spoke the words that he knew would allay the girl’s fears.
“I’ll stay on a while, Mildred,” he agreed. “We’ll look out for Harvey, you and I. Just make up your mind that you are going to enjoy life here. Everything will smooth out.”
Jessup was approaching across the lawn. He stopped and stood silent, waiting to speak to Ware. The showman noted Jessup’s presence, and questioned the man.
“What is it, Jessup?”
“I’m going uptown, Mr. Ware. Need some new tools, and I want to price them. Figured I could call back to find out if it would be all right to buy them.”
“See Mr. Chittenden, Jessup. He is the boss. I’m just a supernumerary.”
Ware laughed as Jessup’s overalled form entered the house. He nudged his thumb back over his shoulder as he spoke to Mildred.
“That’s Jessup for you,” he declared. “The man won’t make a move until he gets orders from higher up. Well, it will do Harvey good to have Jessup constantly bothering him about trifles. It will help him keep his mind off that other matter.”
Mildred nodded. Ware’s formula seemed a good one. It was apparently proved a few minutes later, when Harvey Chittenden came from the house with Jessup. Harvey was talking to the workman, and Jessup was nodding to show that he understood instructions. Jessup drove away in an old touring car, and Harvey went back into the house.
Time drifted slowly by; at length Ware suggested that Mildred walk about the grounds of Lower Beechview. Together, they went toward the little gate where Ware had said good-bye to Walter Pearson two days before. The showman pointed across the broad, rolling green, toward the distant clubhouse on the golf links.
“The Beechview Country Club,” he stated. “All part of old Galbraith’s estate. Big rental every year, I understand. I’ll bet those two boys do their share in spending it.”
They walked in back of the house, and reached the little cove on the other side. There a long pier, ending in a float, attracted Mildred’s attention. One of Jessup’s workmen approached, tipped his hat, and questioned Ware about some details on the garage job. The showman shrugged his shoulders, then went to attend to the matter. Mildred went back to the front of the house.
GLANCING in the direction of the grove, Mildred was impressed by the somber depths that seemed to exist beneath the copper-leafed trees. She had strolled nearly to the rocky shore; now the thick clump of woods attracted her. It looked cool beneath those trees. Mildred went to the edge of the grove.
A magical spell seized the girl almost as soon as she entered beneath the shade of the nearest tree. She recalled childhood stories of enchanted forests; this woods answered their description. Twenty yards in from the fringe of lawn, Mildred was in a region of absolute stillness. She glanced incredulously toward the uniform tree trunks; then looked up toward the leaves.
Above was an impenetrable growth of overlapping branches. The whole formed a coppery-hued canopy that completely shut out the light of the sun. The gloom within this grove came from the lower elevation, about the tree trunks.
The whole scene was amazing. No branches began until eight feet from the ground. The tree trunks were not close together, nor was there any underbrush. Passage was easy, yet the corridors that stretched beyond seemed to cry out an insidious warning to all who might enter their alluring reaches.
Mildred laughed aloud at her own impressions, then the hollow sound of her own mirth frightened her. The silence of her footfalls on the brownish sward was awesome. An impulse of flight gripped the girl’s imaginative mind. She hurried back toward the lawn.
When she emerged upon the green grass, Mildred felt that she was back in the world where she belonged. Sounds were audible now - the hammering of workmen, the ringing of the telephone in the house. The latter sound ended, so Mildred assumed that Harvey had answered the call.
Unconsciously, the girl found herself again studying that grove of trees. She wanted to know more about it, and it occurred to her that by following the narrow strip of sandy shore, she could skirt the awe-inspiring woods. So she set out upon that quest, strolling just beyond the edge of the copper beeches.
After a considerable distance, Mildred reached the spot where the grove ended at the extension of the golf course. Here, in the sand, Mildred noticed that people had been present, for the tiny white grains were scruffed in great confusion.
She was standing, unknowing, upon the very spot where the Malay sailors had landed a few nights before.
THE sound of voices startled the girl. She turned to see a group of four golfers and their caddies, who were arriving at a green not far from the shore. Across the bunkers, Mildred recognized the face of Walter Pearson. The lawyer did not see the girl. He and his companions were too intent upon their game.
To Mildred, this was an opportunity to speak to Pearson. She felt that a cordial greeting was due him, after Harvey’s unjustified anger at Lower Beechview. So she walked over to the bunker and stood quietly watching until Pearson might happen to glance in her direction.
Before Pearson chanced to turn toward the shore, a boy came running up along the fairway, and handed an envelope to the old lawyer. Pearson opened the envelope, read the message, and thrust it in his pocket.
“Bah!” he exclaimed. “A call from the office. I’ll have to get right up to the clubhouse. Here, caddy - carry my clubs along for a few holes; then if I do not return, take them to the locker room. The chances are that I may have to run into New York at once, but if I can settle it by phone, I shall rejoin you gentlemen.”
Pearson looked along the fairway. Because of the contour of the grove, the fairway made a long, roundabout way to the clubhouse. Pearson’s decision was immediate. Waving good-bye to his companions, he walked straight into the mass of beeches, choosing the direct shortcut that would take him to his destination.
Mildred Chittenden stood wondering. The other men were gone toward the fourteenth tee, out of sight beyond the bunkers. She could see Walter Pearson, striding steadily into the grove.
A terrible fear seized the girl. She tried to cry out a warning, not knowing why. Then the call died on her lips, as she realized how ridiculous it would be.
It was too late, now. Pearson’s white-clad form was swallowed amid the trees. Mildred Chittenden stood alone by the shore, wondering what impulse had caused her to fear for the elderly attorney.
Slowly, the girl made her way back along the shore. The proximity of the grove, with its mass of motionless foliage, was more impressive now than before. Mildred was deep in fearsome thought when she reached the lawn by Lower Beechview. Harvey Chittenden and Craig Ware were seated on the porch. They did not notice Mildred’s arrival until the girl had joined them.
As the afternoon waned, Mildred Chittenden retained a troubled silence. Her mind could not forget that simple incident at the thirteenth hole. Some psychic influence seemed to tell her that Walter Pearson had walked into a danger zone, when he had entered the grove of silent motionless beeches!
Approaching darkness increased the tragic thought. The girl’s alarm could not be stifled. She faced the future with an unaccountable worry.
That night, Mildred Chittenden dreamed that she could see the face of Walter Pearson. It stared at her through a coppery haze, and its eyes seemed fixed in death. Then the dream changed and over the sleeping girl came the terrible fear that had clutched her within the fringe of the grove.
CHAPTER IV
AT THE CLUBHOUSE
“HERE’S news for you!”
Craig Ware passed the newspaper across the table to Harvey Chittenden. The two, with Mildred, were seated at late breakfast, on the second morning after the girl had seen Walter Pearson enter the grove.
Harvey Chittenden, no longer in ill humor, took the paper from Ware’s hand. He scanned the headlines.
