Galbraith Chittenden took in his breath sharply. He felt a feeling of remorse for having criticized Wilbur without knowing the facts.
“Terrible thoughts have troubled me, father,” confessed Zachary. “I realized last night how big-hearted Wilbur was. It suddenly dawned upon me that Harvey — despite the fact that he is my brother — might be a man of evil. Pearson went to see him. Pearson is gone. Wilbur went to see him. Wilbur is gone. We must not dally, father—”
GALBRAITH CHITTENDEN arose and strode across the room. Pacing back and forth, his ire increased. Zachary watched shrewdly as he calculated the tempo of the old man’s anger.
The police dog arose from its corner and whined. With surprising alacrity, Galbraith Chittenden seized the leash that lay on the table and fastened it to Beowulf’s collar.
“Come!” he cried to Zachary. “Come! We must not lose a minute. We are going to see my son Harvey. I must know the truth. If he welcomes me, we may be reconciled. If he does not, I shall disown him. I can play to his whims no longer. I shall question him about Pearson and about Wilbur!”
The big dog was straining at the leash as the two Chittendens came out upon the terrace. Zachary pointed to the grove that shone, far below, under the lowering afternoon sun.
“It was there that I last saw Wilbur,” said the young man sadly. “He was going through the grove, eager to reach Harvey’s home as soon as possible.”
“That is the way we shall go,” announced Galbraith.
By the time the men had reached the bottom of the hill, the police dog was nearly choking on its leash.
Only Galbraith’s firm, restraining hand prevented the beast from breaking loose across the golf links, which were now deserted.
“He is following Wilbur’s trail,” stated Zachary, and Galbraith nodded.
UP on the slope beside the clubhouse, a tall man garbed in golf clothes was watching the progress of the Chittendens. This was Lamont Cranston. Keen eyes flashed as the club member saw the police dog heading for the woods. Cranston began to stroll down the slope, then paused and waited.
The police dog had stopped at the edge of the woods. The sound of its whines could be faintly heard.
Galbraith Chittenden was encouraging the dog to enter the grove, but the beast would not respond.
Zachary was watching from a short distance away.
When Cranston saw the two figures turn and lead the dog toward the shore, he sauntered back to the clubhouse, where he took a seat on the veranda, at a spot which commanded a view of the lawn of Lower Beechview.
At the edge of the grove, Galbraith Chittenden was still trying to encourage the police dog, even though he and Zachary were moving toward the shore.
“Come, Beowulf!” cried the old man. “What ails this dog, Zachary?”
“It is Wilbur’s dog,” responded the son.
“Certainly,” declared Galbraith. “It wants to find Wilbur. Then why does it stop before it reaches these trees?”
The old man made another effort to force the big dog into the beeches. The animal responded until it was well under the edge of the overhanging boughs. There, it whined and refused to budge. Furiously, Galbraith dragged the dog forward.
With a loud, piteous whine, Beowulf broke away and struggled back to the golf links, Galbraith Chittenden following despite his strongest efforts. As the old man tried to pull the beast from the dipped green grass, Beowulf snarled viciously.
“We should not have brought the dog,” observed Zachary. “Come, father; let us go around by the shore. Those thick woods frighten the beast. It is longer, but our objective is to see Harvey.”
Agreeing to it now, Galbraith accompanied his son, and Beowulf went in docile fashion as the two men skirted the grove, taking the narrow strip between the trees and the water. After a long course, they suddenly reached the rocky water front of Lower Beechview, and came on to Harvey Chittenden’s lawn.
Three people were seated in comfortable chairs. Harvey Chittenden, his wife and his friend, Craig Ware, looked up to see the sudden approach of the men from the hill.
HARVEY CHITTENDEN recognized his father and brother immediately. He sprang to his feet and clenched his fist. This unannounced invasion of his property was something that he had not anticipated.
Galbraith Chittenden stopped short, when he caught his eldest son’s hostile gaze.
“What does this mean?” demanded Harvey.
Galbraith Chittenden, aroused by his son’s ire, met the challenge promptly.
“Where is Wilbur?” came the old man’s question.
“Wilbur?” quizzed Harvey. “Oh, so that’s Zachary with you! Why should I know where Wilbur is? Why come here with such an absurd question?”
“He came to see you last night!” retorted Zachary.
“He did?” Harvey’s question was sardonic. “Well, if he came here, it was of his own volition. Whatever has happened to him is his own making. I am not responsible for the affairs of Upper Beechview.”
“Where is Walter Pearson?” demanded Galbraith furiously. “He came to see you. Wilbur came to see you. Both are gone!”
“Good riddance!” shouted Harvey, now fully incensed. “And you two will be gone — off these premises. Get out, and look for your own. Get out!”
As Harvey made a threatening gesture toward his father, the huge dog Beowulf rose and strained fiercely at its leash. Its great jaws opened in a terrific snarl. Mildred screamed as she saw the beast about to leap upon her husband. Only Galbraith Chittenden’s firm restraint withheld the dog.
Quickly, Mildred grasped Harvey by the arm. With all her strength, she dragged him toward the house.
Harvey, too angered in mind to control his actions, allowed himself to be guided by his wife. He paused upon the steps of the porch to voice wild, inarticulate imprecations. Beowulf barked fiercely.
“I’ll give you fifteen minutes!” shouted Harvey. “Off of these grounds, both of you — off to stay!”
“I’ll disown you!” cried Galbraith.
“Do it!” cried Harvey. “I’ve disowned you long ago — thanks to those skulking boys whose talk has influenced you!”
With that, Harvey moved into the house, under Mildred’s charge. Beowulf still snarled as Galbraith Chittenden, his face livid with mighty wrath, clung to the big dog’s leash. Zachary was standing silent at his father’s side. Craig Ware, calm and controlled, was facing the two visitors.
Chittendens had met — and in that meeting, the breach of long-nourished enmity had been widened beyond recall!
CHAPTER X. THE SEARCH BEGINS
THE encounter upon the lawn of Lower Beechview had been witnessed by one man from afar. In a secluded corner of the clubhouse veranda, Lamont Cranston had been watching with the same device that Wilbur Chittenden had employed to spy on Lower Beechview — a pair of field glasses.
But Lamont Cranston, although a long way off, had virtually heard every word of the tempestuous conversation. His keen eyes had followed the motions of angry lips. The words that had been veiled from him when heads had turned were easily inferred by his shrewd brain as he watched the replies of lips that were visible.
Now that the brief altercation was ended, Galbraith Chittenden stood firm and dignified upon the lawn. A domineering man, he was not ready to obey Harvey’s short order to vacate. Zachary, too, held his ground. It was inevitable that Harvey would return at the end of fifteen minutes. Then another clash would occur.
There was one, however, who sensed this fact, and took measures to avert that trouble. Craig Ware, calm and unperturbed, walked directly toward Galbraith Chittenden and spoke to the old man. Galbraith glared and Beowulf snarled. Ware quietly stretched out one hand and gripped the police dog’s nose. To the amazement of Galbraith and Zachary, the fierce beast subsided. Ware smiled wanly as the two other men stared in surprised admiration.