Recovering from his fright, the servant raised the flashlight. This time its rays showed nothing but the trees.
Retreating toward the house, Lester kept sweeping his torch. It failed to reveal a new glimpse of The Shadow. The servant arrived at the house; his hand trembled as it opened the door.
Then Lester sprang inside and slammed the barrier behind him. Bolts shot into place.
When he reached the hall inside the house, Lester turned suddenly as he heard a voice from the stairs. It was Phyllis Lingle. Clad in slippers and dressing gown, the girl had come from her room. She questioned Lester in an anxious tone.
“What has happened?” inquired Phyllis. “Tell me, Lester; what happened outside?”
“Mr. Vincent encountered a prowler,” croaked Lester. “But he is all right, Miss Phyllis. I can hear him talking to Mr. Milton, in the library.”
Phyllis hurried down the stairs. She joined Lester and the two entered the library. They found Harry Vincent standing before the fireplace, rubbing his jaw. Milton Claverly was seated close by, smoking a cigarette.
“Lester,” snapped Milton, “Vincent tells me that the little door was open. You should have bolted it before you retired.”
“I thought I did, sir,” responded the servant. “Really, it is something that I should not have forgotten.”
“But you forgot it tonight.”
“Yes, sir.
“Vincent heard the bells,” declared Milton. “He was the first of us to get downstairs. Finding the door open, he naturally went out to the drive.”
“I thought you might be out there,” remarked Harry, eying Milton as he spoke.
“I was upstairs,” stated Milton, promptly, “getting dressed. I couldn’t find my coat and vest so I came down in my shirtsleeves. There wasn’t time to go fumbling about in the closet, looking for the right hanger.”
“I must have come down ahead of you, sir,” said Lester. “I was sound asleep on the third floor. Then I heard the bells ring” — a chuckle — “and I was glad. Bells of doom—”
“Cut it, Lester,” interrupted Milton, sternly. “This is no time for more of your madness. What I want to know is: who was outside this house — and why?”
Phyllis Lingle uttered a suppressed gasp. Harry Vincent was the only one who heard it. He looked quickly toward the girl. Her face was pale. Phyllis tried to cover up her sudden outburst. Lester came unwittingly to her rescue.
“I can tell you, sir,” he croaked. “I can tell you who was outside this house. It was a spirit, sir — a ghoul from the old bell-tower. I know. I have seen!”
The old servant’s chortle was maddening. Yet even the wildness of Lester’s eyes did not detract from the force of his words. Milton Claverly stared. He seemed to half believe Lester’s words. Then Milton laughed, uneasily.
“Seeing spooks, eh?” he quizzed. “Forget that stuff, Lester. It will drive you crazy.”
“I saw!” repeated the servant. “I saw him — the spirit from the night!
“Black, with burning eyes! Coals of fire, sir, that looked at me. It came from the tower” — the servant pointed his finger upward and wagged his bony hand — “it came to prove that my old master’s words were true!”
“Enough of that!” broke in Milton. “Keep quiet, Lester. Now I know that your wild imagination has gained the best of you.”
HARRY VINCENT was thinking. He had seen enough of Lester to know that the servant was fundamentally sane. Lester had seen someone outside the house; but not the person with whom Harry had battled. Harry’s antagonist had escaped; after that, The Shadow had arrived here at the house.
Who had been the man in the dark? Harry’s foe could have been Milton Claverly. For that matter, Lester — the servant had unusual strength — might have been the fighter who had dealt the lucky blow to Harry’s jaw.
Both Milton and Lester were dressed. Harry had no proof that either man had gone to bed. One or the other could have been coming back from the tower. It was quite possible that the guilty party could have gone into the house after sprawling Harry on the gravel.
Recollecting, Harry realized that he had been completely staggered by the punch. It had been the equivalent of a knock-out blow. A minute — no, at least two minutes — had elapsed before Lester arrived to give aid. There had been another time space before Milton had appeared.
Harry’s thoughts changed. He came to a consideration of The Shadow. He knew that it was not his chief whom he had encountered; The Shadow would have recognized Harry’s cry in the dark. But The Shadow was close at hand. Harry would soon have a chance to make a report.
Lester was walking from the library.
Milton spoke to the servant, to ask him where he was going. Lester responded that he intended to make sure the rear door was locked.
“I’m sure I pressed the bolts when I came in, sir.”
“I’ll go along to make sure.”
The two left. Harry was musing. Then came a soft voice. Phyllis Lingle was approaching. The girl spoke breathlessly.
“I heard the scuffle, Mr. Vincent,” she said. “I knew that you had met someone in the dark.”
“Do you know who it was?” questioned Harry, quickly.
“No,” replied Phyllis. “It was too dark to see from my window. But — there is something that I must tell you—”
She stopped and drew away. Milton and Lester were returning. Harry saw the girl’s lips frame the word:
“Tomorrow.”
Harry gave a slight nod and turned away. Milton noted nothing. He paced over toward the fireplace, stood there for a few moments; then spoke.
“Guess we’d better turn in,” was his comment. “There’s no use looking for the chap you bumped into, Vincent. After the way Vandrow talked, I don’t like the idea of going outside the house after dark.
“We would look mighty suspicious wandering about with flashlights. For that matter, it wouldn’t be so good if anyone dropped in on us while we’re in this room. I suggest we go back to bed and talk things over in the morning.”
MILTON’S suggestion was followed. Five minutes later, Harry Vincent was seated in his own room. He had turned on a single light, a little lamp above a table in the comer. But Harry had not gone back to bed.
He was seated at the table, writing with a fountain pen that he had taken from the pocket of his vest. Briefly, in coded words, Harry was giving the full details of all that had occurred. Trained in The Shadow’s service, Harry had gained a remarkable ability to remember events with exactitude.
His departure from the hotel, his chat with Milton Claverly; his return and the remarks that Vandrow had made — all these went into the report. Then came Harry’s description of his experience after the bells had clanged. Most important — to Harry’s mind — were the interrupted conversations that he had held with Phyllis Lingle.
Harry folded each sheet as he completed it. He placed the entire report in an envelope. He sealed the container; then went to bed. But he left the table lamp burning, That was a signal to The Shadow.
Time passed. Night breezes sighed about the mansion. From the thick, outer darkness, keen eyes studied the silent house. They spied the only glimmer of light, the dull glow from the window of Harry’s room. A stealthy figure approached the house.
Shortly afterward, the figure of The Shadow appeared through the open window. It materialized in weird fashion. The only person who might have seen that forming shape was Harry Vincent; but he had gone to sleep.
Gloved hands opened the envelope. The Shadow read the coded lines. The writing faded, line by line, as he completed his perusal. Such was the way with messages between The Shadow and his aides. They used a special ink that vanished after contact with the air.