all along. I was thinking of your welfare, Warren” - Jasper held up his hand as Warren flashed a look of indignation - “because I had no quarrel with you. I preferred that no one should discover a murderer in the Delthern family.”
Jasper’s evil statement had a twofold meaning. It signified that he did not want crime pinned upon either himself or his cousin. A smile of feigned solicitude replaced the leer on Jasper’s countenance.
“Come,” he said, as Warren preserved absolute silence. “Let us discuss terms. You are in a serious position, Warren. Remember, if we each declare the other as a murderer, the cards are stacked against you. One would suspect a cousin as a killer more readily than one would suspect a brother.
“Moreover, you as well as I have profited by the deaths of Winstead and Humphrey. You could profit further by slaying me. Suppose I should accuse you of threatening my life?”
Warren smiled scornfully. He had regained his wits, now that he saw the game. He was determined to meet Jasper’s calmness with equal unconcern.
“This is interesting, Jasper,” he remarked. “But where does it get you? Am I to assume that things are getting a bit too hot for you?”
“Not too hot for me,” retorted Jasper. “Too hot for you, Warren. The detective on this job - a dumb cluck named Terwiliger - is out for business. He’ll get the murderer, he says - and in characteristic fashion, he’ll pick the wrong man. That ought to worry you, Warren!”
IT did worry Warren Barringer. The young man had no knowledge of the happenings that had taken place in Delthern Manor on the night before. Nevertheless, Warren felt sure that Jasper was leading up to some proposition. He wanted to find out what it was. Jasper saw his quizzical expression and laughed again.
“I’m going to make it easy for you, Warren,” he declared. “That is why I called this meeting for tonight. When we confer with Horatio Farman, you will state that you have found it necessary to leave for California. That will naturally bring up the subject of your share in the estate.
“At my suggestion, Marcia and I will agree, in writing, not to dispute your claim. Your portion will be forwarded to you upon the date of settlement. You will keep one half of it.”
“And the rest?” queried Warren calmly.
“You will split with me,” decided Jasper. “That is a fair break. You get one eighth - the share originally yours. You have lost nothing. Your quarter share is really of my making; therefore half of it rightfully belongs to me.”
In tone and manner, Jasper Delthern had calculated well. His words had carried no great threat; indeed, they had shown a marked expression of welfare toward Warren Barringer. But the menace was there; now, Jasper chose to reveal it.
“Follow my instructions, Warren,” ordered Jasper, in a harsh tone, “and you will come out of this uninjured! When I receive my split of the money that goes to you, I will destroy all the evidence against you. If necessary, I will send it to you that you may accomplish the destruction.
“But if you refuse; if you remain here any longer - that will mark the end of all your hopes. I will see that the police gain the evidence. You will be marked as a murderer. You understand?”
Warren nodded. He saw the meaning behind Jasper’s game. He put the matter bluntly, so that his cousin would know he comprehended.
“My present share,” considered Warren, “is more than four million dollars. Should I be eliminated, that amount will go to Marcia Wardrop. You would not gain a penny of it, for you are limited to your half.
“But if I agree to your plan, we will split that amount of money - about two million dollars each. An excellent thought, Jasper!”
WARREN was smiling; playing a cagy game as he pretended to agree with his cousin’s scheme. He saw a chance to deliver a subtle stroke; and changed his tone accordingly.
“If I refuse, however,” asserted Warren, “I may win out by staying here. Suppose you are discovered as the murderer, Jasper? That might lead to your elimination. That would give me one half share in the estate.”
“Try it!” snarled Jasper, rising from his chair. “You will lose out. The cards are stacked against you. I can bluff it through!”
“If I run away,” remarked Warren, “it will make it look as though I were the murderer.”
“Not if you do it sensibly,” growled Jasper. “I will stick to my part of the bargain. Why not? It will mean two million dollars. But I tell you, Warren, your refusal will cook your goose.”
Warren was on his feet also. The two men glowered at each other across the big desk. Each was holding back. Jasper had not told what had happened to Terwiliger. Warren had not stated his reliance upon Clark Brosset.
Thoughts of the detective made Jasper overanxious to win his point. Terwiliger’s disappearance might bring a troublesome investigation. Hope of aid from Clark Brosset made Warren ready to bring his fight into the open.
“Well?” snarled Jasper. “Do you accept my terms?”
“No!” retorted Warren. “I’m calling for a show-down!”
“You’ll get it, then!” jeered Jasper. “Right now! Police Chief Gorson is downstairs. I can tell him plenty in a hurry. When he gets here, he’ll find evidence of murder. I’ll show it to him -“
Jasper’s statement broke off. His unfinished words were to prove prophetic - in a way that Jasper had not anticipated. The lights went out. The study was plunged in darkness. Jasper’s words ended in a stifled cry.
WARREN BARRINGER stood petrified with horror. This had happened on that other night. Why had it happened again? What was the answer?
A revolver roared through the darkness. A dazzling spurt of flame spat in the direction of the desk. Another shot; a second flash. Warren Barringer dropped instinctively to the floor. He thought that the shots were meant for him; that Jasper Delthern had resorted to some cunning trick.
The lights came on. Warren clutched the edge of the desk. He peered over the top. He saw a body lying on the floor.
Warren gasped. He was staring at the dead form of Jasper Delthern!
The young man stared wildly about the room. The door was still closed, the key turned in the lock; yet he was alone in the room with Jasper’s body. There, on the floor, lay the man who had admitted murdering his brothers; aside from that dead form, and Warren Barringer’s living body, the room was empty!
Jasper Delthern was a murderer. He, in turn, was murdered. But this new deed of evil was shrouded with a veil of mystery. As on the night when Humphrey and Wellington had died, Warren Barringer had seen no human assassin.
Again, he stood in a room where death had struck in darkness. This time, the cards were truly stacked against him. A glittering revolver was lying on the floor not far from Warren’s feet. People would be here - with them Police Chief Gorson - before he could escape.
They would find Warren Barringer alone - a weapon at his feet - the body of his murdered cousin sprawled upon the floor!
CHAPTER XXII
THE SHADOW ORDERS
WARREN BARRINGER staggered toward the door. He leaned against the barrier that separated this scene of crime from the outside world. He listened. His only hope was that the shots had not been heard.
Long minutes passed. Each was a moment of horrible waiting. At last, vague footsteps sounded in the hallway. Someone tapped upon the door. Warren gave no response.
“Mr. Farman is here, sir,” said the voice of Holley. “Do you wish him to come up?”
Warren ventured no reply. He felt a momentary relief. The shots had evidently passed unheard. That was quite logical. If all the people had been in the living room, the thickness of the door, the great distance to the floor below, could easily have kept the shots from ears below.
“Mr. Delthern!” Holley rapped sharply on the other side of the door. “Mr. Delthern! Are you there?”
Warren tried to suppress his heavy breathing. He stared wildly toward Jasper Delthern’s body, as though expecting it to rise and cry out to the knocking servant.
“Mr. Barringer!” Holley was crying Warren’s own name now. “Has anything happened?”
Warren offered no response. He could sense that Holley was listening for some sound. Then stumbling
