The Ghost Of The Manor s-32

by Maxwell Grant

  Something swished from the corner beyond the filing cabinet. A living form stalked through the office. A tiny disk of light, no larger than a half dollar, cast its gleam about the room.

  The glow traveled along the desk. It paused upon the telephone; it rested on the unopened record books. It flickered across the room, and cast a shimmering beam upon the door of the wall safe from which those volumes had been taken.

  A low laugh broke the silence of the office. That tone of mirth came as the climax of The Shadow’s efforts. Its boding notes told of previous investigation; of a purpose behind the presence which had stalked the corridors of the City Club as secretly as it had moved within the gloomy walls of Delthern Manor.

  The knowledge of The Shadow was apparent in that laugh. This phantom of darkness knew the turn that present events had taken. He had lingered in this office before; he had learned the plans that Warren Barringer had made with Clark Brosset.

  Jasper Delthern was awaiting the visit of his cousin, Warren Barringer. Soon the two would meet at Delthern Manor. It was too late for The Shadow to be there at the beginning of their interview.

  This office was the place where Warren had promised to communicate later with Clark Brosset. It, like the Manor, was important. Before The Shadow started on his mission at the Delthern Manor, he had work to do here, while Brosset was absent from the City Club office.

  The shuddering laugh of The Shadow was repeated. It came as a final token of the secret knowledge which guided his plans upon this fateful night!

  CHAPTER XX

  THE WARNING

  JASPER DELTHERN was standing at the open doorway of the great reception hall. The huge apartment was illuminated by its long rows of flickering candles that extended from the bottom of the balcony. The candelabrum on the table was also aglow.

  Holley, the ex-chauffeur, approached the master of the Manor. He announced a visitor.

  “Police Chief Gorson, sir.”

  “Show him in,” ordered Jasper.

  Holley went away and returned in company with Sidney Gorson. He brought the police chief to the spot where Jasper was standing. Jasper turned, shook hands with Gorson, and swept his other arm toward the room.

  “Splendid sight, isn’t it?” he questioned.

  “Yes,” agreed Gorson. “What’s the idea of all the lights?”

  “Family conference,” explained Jasper. “Our old Delthern tradition, chief. You know what I told you last night. Ghosts of our ancestors -“

  Jasper laughed as he broke the sentence, thus intimating his disbelief in supernatural forces. He spoke again, in a matter-of-fact tone, while he watched the flickering candles in feigned fascination.

  “I called you about Terwiliger,” he said. “Have you heard from him today?”

  “No,” returned Gorson. “That’s why I was anxious to get here after I learned that you wanted to see me. What’s it about? Where is he?”

  “He left this morning,” said Jasper calmly. “He didn’t tell me where he was going. He merely said that he had gained a very definite clew. He asked me to call you and arrange an appointment in the study after he came back here tonight.”

  “That’s odd,” observed Gorson.

  “Not at all,” returned Jasper. “You remember what he said last night? That he would come into that room while both of us were together there, to lay the evidence before us?”

  “Yes. He said he would get the goods on the man behind these murders.”

  “Exactly. Well, that was why he was so mysterious this morning. He wants to finish the job in a dramatic fashion. He seemed very confident when he left.

  “I had planned a family conference for tonight. My cousin, Marcia Wardrop, is at home. My other cousin, Warren Barringer, will be here shortly. I expect our lawyer, Farman, at nine thirty.

  “Inasmuch as we will be engaged in this room, discussing affairs of the estate, I thought it best for you to be here in case Terwiliger comes. You can wait for him in the living room. He stated that he would arrive around nine o’clock.”

  As Jasper concluded his statement, there was a knock at the front door. Both men stepped into the hallway, Jasper remarking that Horatio Farman usually came by that little-used route. Instead of the attorney, however, Holley admitted Warren Barringer.

  “Ah! My cousin!” greeted Jasper, stepping forward eagerly to meet the visitor.

  HE introduced Warren to Police Chief Gorson, and the three went back into the huge reception hall. Warren expressed his admiration of the great apartment.

  “That’s right,” recalled Jasper. “You were never in here before, were you, Warren? This was grandfather’s show place - this room. We held a meeting here shortly after his death; before you arrived home from abroad.”

  Warren nodded. Without looking toward his cousin, he was noting the change evidenced by Jasper’s voice. The black sheep of the Deltherns was making a great effort to display a white fleece, Warren decided.

  Police Chief Gorson was walking about the reception hall, studying the furnishings and looking up toward the whispering gallery. Jasper called to him from the door.

  “Warren and I are going up to the study,” he informed the police chief. “We will come down when Mr. Farman arrives. If Terwiliger shows up in the meantime, come on up to the study.”

  In the hallway, Jasper Delthern beckoned to Warren, and started up the stairway. Before Warren could follow him, a hand pressed against his arm, and he turned to face Marcia Wardrop. The girl had come from the living room.

  She held her forefinger to her lips as Warren was about to speak. Then, in a quick whisper, she spoke. Her words seemed to be prompted by a strange intuition - a woman’s knowledge that something must be wrong.

  “Be careful,” warned the girl. “You were here before when trouble occurred. When Winstead died - when Humphrey and Wellington were killed -“

  Warren stared at the girl in real amazement. He had met Marcia the night that he had visited Winstead, but he had no idea that the girl knew of the visit on the night of double murder. Was this a trick to trap him? A look at Marcia’s face convinced him that it was not. The girl’s countenance was very pale and worried.

  “Stay here,” she added. “Do not go up with Jasper. I am afraid - for you - because I believe in you -“

  Marcia did not complete the sentence. She was watching the stairs as she spoke. Seeing Jasper turn to glance back, Marcia managed to smile as she spoke in a louder tone.

  “I am certainly pleased to meet you,” said she. “You must come here often, Cousin Warren.”

  Taking the cue, Warren responded in like tone. Jasper pounded down the stairs, grinning in pleased fashion as he witnessed the meeting.

  “Our cousin,” he said to Warren. “Marcia Wardrop. I see that you have introduced yourselves. Marcia will be with us later, after Farman arrives. Let us go up to the study, Warren.”

  “You will excuse me?” Warren asked Marcia.

  The girl nodded; but in her eyes was a pleading look that urged Warren not to go with Jasper. The gaze turned to a positive warning as Warren gave a very slight negative shake of his head.

  IN spite of Marcia’s plea, Warren was determined to go to the study. As he followed Jasper up the stairs, Warren shook off the first effects of Marcia’s warning. Somehow the girl had known that he had been here the second night; naturally, she was worried now.

  But Warren could not help but wonder whether her concern was entirely for him. How could the girl know that he was innocent. Was it not logical for her to think that he might be the murderer; that he was stalking Jasper as new quarry?

  These confusing thoughts made Warren weaken as he reached the landing. Although he was not superstitious, he felt a sense of awe as he neared the room where each of his visits had marked a prelude to sudden death.

  The thought of Police Chief Gorson was the reassuring impression that made him continue on his way. He was going alone with a man whom he believed to be a murderer. But there were people in
the house tonight - among them Newbury’s principal officer of the law. In addition, Warren was forewarned regarding Jasper Delthern; and he had heard Clark Brosset’s logical reasons why Jasper would attempt no crime tonight.

  Warren’s qualms had vanished when Jasper closed and locked the door of the study. This room of death did not seem overly sinister tonight. Jasper, seating himself in the big chair behind the mammoth desk, looked entirely different from either of his elder brothers.

  Warren Barringer took a chair and stared directly toward his cousin. He noticed a serious expression upon Jasper Delthern’s face. It was then that Warren sensed the importance of this conference.

  The new proprietor of Delthern Manor had something startling to discuss. That was apparent from his first words; and as Warren Barringer listened, he began to realize that he should have heeded Marcia Wardrop’s warning.

  CHAPTER XXI

  A KILLER SPEAKS

  “TONIGHT,” announced Jasper Delthern, “we are holding a meeting in the great reception hall. It will be the only conference before the final meeting at which the estate will be apportioned among the surviving heirs.”

  He paused, placed his hands upon the edge of the desk, and glanced narrowly toward his cousin.

  “Perhaps,” continued Jasper, “you have learned that there was some question regarding your claim upon the estate. That was due to your absence at the first meeting. You were sustained, by Farman and my brother Winstead.

  “However, Warren, it will be essential for you to be at the final meeting if you wish to gain your share of our grandfather’s millions. Should you be unable to be present, you will not share - unless Marcia and I voluntarily waive our rights.”

  “That’s clear enough,” returned Warren, as Jasper paused again. “I expect to be at the final meeting. We will all be there - all of us entitled to share in the estate.”

  “My brother Winstead will not be there,” remarked Jasper sadly. “Nor will my brother Humphrey.”

  Warren Barringer’s hands tightened upon the arms of the chair. He detected a ring of insincerity in Jasper Delthern’s sorrowful tone.

  “They were murdered!” added Jasper suddenly. “Murdered - both of them!”

  He looked squarely at Warren. Evidently, Jasper’s purpose was to test his cousin’s reaction. Remembering the need for discretion, Warren responded calmly.

  “I understood,” he remarked, “that Winstead’s death was accidental.”

  “It was not!” declared Jasper coldly. “The same person who stabbed Humphrey and shot Wellington flung Winstead from the head of the stairs. Have you any idea who that person was?”

  Warren Barringer did not reply. He watched an evil, fiendish leer appear upon his cousin’s face.

  “Can you name the murderer?” queried Jasper, in a persistent tone.

  Warren could see no reason for refusing an answer now. He was completely baffled by Jasper’s attitude. The look on the fellow’s face was proof enough that he was gloating over memory of evil deeds.

  “I can name the murderer!” retorted Warren, in a low, tense accusation. “I do not need to tell you his name, Jasper Delthern. You killed both your brothers and Wellington!”

  “I did,” admitted Jasper coolly. “Nevertheless, there is no one living who will prove it. That includes you, Warren. On the contrary” - Jasper’s tone became thoughtful - “it would not be difficult to prove that Warren Barringer was the murderer!”

  THE thrust was delivered with a villainous deliberation. Jasper’s cool admission of guilt had been astounding in itself; this nervy statement aroused Warren’s indignation.

  “You can prove nothing!” he ejaculated. “You know well that I am innocent

  -“

  “Softly, softly,” interposed Jasper, with malicious calm. “Someone might be passing in the hallway; someone who would overhear you if you talk too loud.”

  Warren settled back in his chair. Jasper grinned. The murderer was filled with confidence.

  Warren began to realize his own difficult position. He remembered Clark Brosset’s admonition to give Jasper enough leeway to enmesh himself. Warren resolved to listen until Jasper had finished.

  “The proofs are here,” remarked Jasper quietly. “Statements signed and sworn to by my brother Humphrey and his servant Wellington - statements that indicate you may have been concerned with Winstead’s death.

  “There is proof also that you came here on the night that Humphrey and Wellington died. Your hat” - Jasper laughed - “remained in a downstairs closet. The police were negligent in their quiz that night. I rather fancy that if they questioned my cousin Marcia they could learn more concerning your movements on that evening.”

  The warning!

  It flashed back through Warren Barringer’s mind. Had Marcia Wardrop divined Jasper’s plan? Was she helpless also? Was this a hopeless trap?

  Warren could rely only upon Clark Brosset. There was a friend who could help - yet well did Warren recall the need for caution that Brosset himself had expressed.

  “You are thinking of my telephone call from the City Club?” questioned Jasper. “If so, let me inform you that I expected you to overhear it. I saw you approach the phone booths. I did not talk to Wellington that night. I faked the call to bring you here.

  “Wellington dead was better than Wellington alive, after he had entered the room. In fact, he was a nuisance 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 expres
sion 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.