If so, how had he avoided an encounter? Horrified, Mildred realized the answer. She understood now why Harvey could have been staying awake so many nights. A rendezvous with this creature from the beeches! That could well be the answer!
Mildred was more frightened now than she had been before. She would prefer to see her husband in grave danger than to imagine him in touch with such an outlandish monster. But the thought awoke terrifying memories within the recesses of her mind.
Harvey had often spoken briefly of his trips to China and the Orient — of his acquaintances there — of the strange customs in the East. In some ways, Harvey had imbibed an Oriental philosophy for he had often spoken with unfeigned admiration of the Chinese and their methods.
Lei Chang!
Somehow Mildred sensed that such was the creature’s name. Who then was Koon Woon? Another man from China?
Mildred could not answer these perplexing questions. She realized dully that now she was more anxious to be within the house than without. Her entire view had changed.
Carefully, the girl entered the front door and ascended the stairs without making a sound. She stopped outside of Harvey’s room. She heard a few slight noises, but they were no proof that Harvey was still awake. He might have been tossing in his sleep.
Craig Ware’s room was nearby. Before the door, Mildred could hear the stentorian breathing of the middle aged showman. Then she thought of Jessup. His room was in a wing at the back of the house.
Mildred decided that she would not investigate there.
Instead, she went into her own room and lay quietly in bed, seeking sleep. Each doze was interrupted.
Once Mildred fancied that she heard someone moving in the hall; again, she imagined that whistled hissing; finally she was sure that she heard sounds on the other side of the house.
Bravely the girl calmed these recurring fears and finally dropped off to sleep. Vague dreams perturbed her mind and frequently brought her to a waking point. In those dreams, she heard unexplainable noises, and caught the fancied gleam of a wicked, yellow face. But one impression triumphed over all these nightmares; that was the form of a tall being clad in black.
Through her troubled sleep, Mildred could see this one apparition battling off the weird figures that surrounded her. The recollection of The Shadow predominated over all others. When morning dawned, the memory of that first phantom greeted Mildred Chittenden. From the confused recollections of the hectic night, she recalled the black-clad shape that had come from the mysterious grove.
The thought of the tall, gliding form remained a warning in her mind. The recollection of The Shadow made Mildred feel that only beings of a superhuman mold could safely trespass upon the ground beneath the beeches where the yellow-faced menace dwelt.
CHAPTER VII. AT UPPER BEECHVIEW
LATE the following afternoon, two young men appeared upon a terrace of the huge house on the crag above Long Island Sound. From this vantage point of Upper Beechview, they commanded a wide sweep of the terrain below. The clubhouse of the golf course was obscured by a corner of the mansion; aside from that, every detail of the surrounding territory was visible in panorama.
One of these observers held a pair of field glasses. In the dimming light, he made a careful inspection of the ground that lay between Upper Beechview and the grove; then his hands raised so that he could plainly see what was going on at Lower Beechview.
The young man with the field glasses was Wilbur Chittenden; his companion was his brother Zachary.
Their secretive actions indicated that this spying procedure was not a new custom. Evidently they had been practicing it for days.
Wilbur Chittenden lowered the field glasses and uttered a growl of displeasure. Wilbur bore a marked resemblance to his elder brother Harvey, the present occupant of Lower Beechview. Only the pallor of his face — a sharp contrast to Harvey’s coat of tan — would have enabled an acquaintance to have told them apart.
Zachary, while he possessed the Chittenden facial characteristics, was quite different in appearance.
Harvey and Wilbur were tall; Zachary was short. Wilbur, like Harvey, was mature and self-possessed; Zachary had the face of a weakling. Nevertheless the youngest of the Chittendens was impressive in his shrewdness. His physiognomy denoted the schemer; a malicious smile was constantly upon his lips; and he bore himself in domineering fashion.
Of the two, Wilbur would have been the more formidable in physical combat, but Zachary appeared to be the cleverer.
“Nothing important down there, Zach,” growled Wilbur. “It riles me to think that the beastly cad is living so close to us. I had hoped that he was gone to stay.”
“Yes?” questioned Zachary with an ugly laugh. “You’re counting too much on hope, Wilbur. Now that Harvey is back, you can be sure that he is here to stay — and we might as well make the best of it.”
“Make the best of it?”
There was a significance in Wilbur’s echo that showed he had caught the import of his younger brother’s words. Zachary laughed again and sprawled himself in a reclining chair below the high parapet of the terrace. Wilbur seated himself and looked dubiously toward his brother. It was plain that he expected Zachary to offer some sound advice.
“LISTEN, Wilbur,” declared Zachary. “While you’ve been spending your time looking through those glasses and cursing to yourself, I’ve been doing some constructive thinking. More than that, I’ve been acting.”
“How?”
“In a very efficient manner. Following hunches — using my head as well as my eyes. Figuring how the present situation can be turned to our advantage.”
“I don’t see anything to our advantage,” protested Wilbur. “Harvey is back. Pearson has walked out of the picture. There’s no way for us to work things the way we want them. Harvey will patch matters up with the old man and that will be the end of it.”
“Yes?” Zachary’s tone was sarcastic. “Well, Wilbur, I was younger than you when Harvey went away. You were the chief cause of his going. I helped to make matters unpleasant for him, but at that time, I followed your lead. Now that he is back, it is my turn to do the heavy work.”
Wilbur Chittenden nodded. He was a stubborn fellow, who held an intense hatred toward his favored brother Harvey, but Wilbur was unquestionably blunt in method, and he recognized Zachary’s subtle superiority.
“Wilbur,” said Zachary, in a low tone. “I’ve been preparing for trouble ever since I knew that Harvey was coming back. I didn’t tell everything to you, because I wanted to watch developments. But you can believe me when I tell you that affairs are turning favorably to us. There’s just one factor that you have failed to consider.”
“Which is—”
“That Harvey is a Chittenden — just as set in purpose as the rest of us. He has come back here looking for trouble. He is going to find it, and that will prove his undoing.”
Wilbur Chittenden was listening intently; but his impatience showed itself in his next words.
“Trouble for Harvey?” he demanded. “I can’t see how that is developing. We have tried to convince the old man that he ought to cut off Harvey, but he always insisted that there would be a reconciliation. He sent Pearson to arrange it and Pearson didn’t get far, I’ll admit. But now” — Wilbur paused speculatively — “just where is Pearson? How can we work on the old man while his lawyer is missing?”
“Pearson,” responded Zachary calmly, “was our greatest obstacle. He represented the family for years.
He was a stickler for precedent. He had no luck when he tried to make friends with Harvey. That proved my point — that Harvey is short-tempered. But Pearson would be keeping on with his friendly efforts still — except for the fact that Pearson is no longer here.”