“What’s this?” questioned Howard sharply. “What are you doing here, Vorber?”
Paul Marchelle was peering from behind Howard’s shoulder. Vorber stepped back a pace; then pointed to the library door. He offered a quick explanation.
“I heard you coming in, sir,” be declared. “As I reached the foot of the stairs, I thought I caught a sound from the library — like something falling.”
“You were going in there?”
“I went to the door, sir. I had forgotten that it was locked.”
“I have the key. Are you sure you heard a noise from the library?”
“I thought I did, sir.”
Howard Wycliff quickly produced the key. He unlocked the door, which had a spring bolt. He entered and turned on the light. Paul Marchelle crowded in behind him. Vorber followed. The servant’s gaze went straight toward the end of the bookcase. Vorber’s eyes dropped to the floor. The stretch of blackness was gone.
In his eagerness to spy the spot that he had last noticed, Vorber was too late to detect a motion by the window. The iron shutters were closing in the same mysterious fashion with which they had acted on the preceding night. The bar dropped into place. No one observed its easing fall.
“There is no one here,” declared Howard Wycliff.
“Let’s look around a bit,” suggested Paul Marchelle, eyeing Vorber as he spoke.
THE three men prowled about. Vorber examined the niche beyond the bookcase. He found no one. The servant shook his head thoughtfully.
“What was the noise you heard?” questioned Howard.
“It was — ” Vorber broke off suddenly. “I can’t just say, sir,” he added. “It came from” — Vorber wheeled — “from this end of the room, sir.”
The servant was staring directly toward Cyril Wycliff’s portrait as he spoke. The sight of the dead man’s picture made him start. Paul Marchelle noted the action and promptly questioned it.
“What’s the matter, Vorber?” he asked. “Have you seen a ghost?”
“Yes — ” Vorber shook his head to change the statement. “No, sir. I was thinking about my old master, sir. I served him many years.”
Marchelle surveyed Vorber narrowly. The servant turned away and ambled to the other end of the room. Marchelle followed, to examine the barred shutters. It was then that Vorber glanced at the table which The Shadow had replaced upon the floor.
The servant’s eyes glittered. He looked shrewdly about him. Seeing Marchelle turning from the window, Vorber was careful not to look at the table again. His face, however, wore a look of new knowledge.
“Vorber must have been mistaken,” declared Howard Wycliff, as he strolled toward the door. “There could have been no one here—”
He broke off as he heard an odd click from the direction of the window. Paul Marchelle, also on his way toward the door, turned to locate the sound. Both men glanced at Vorber. The servant also seemed perplexed.
“Was that the noise you heard?” questioned Howard.
“No, sir,” responded Vorber.
Paul Marchelle was thoughtful. He turned to Howard Wycliff.
“Suppose I sleep in this room,” he volunteered. “If there are any spooks in the place, I’ll find them — if they turn up.”
Marchelle was looking at Vorber as he finished his statement. The old servant returned the gaze, but said nothing. He watched Howard Wycliff.
“It wouldn’t be a bad idea,” observed Howard. “The couch will make a good bed. You can leave the door open; if anything occurs, call for my assistance.”
“You have a gun?”
“Two revolvers. You can have one; I’ll keep the other. Come upstairs; we can load them there. Vorber, make up the couch. Mr. Marchelle will sleep here.”
Marchelle eyed Vorber until the servant had started upstairs to get the bedding. Then Marchelle followed with Howard Wycliff. The guns were produced and loaded. The two men heard Vorber going down the stairs. They arrived to find him making up the couch.
From then on, Paul Marchelle did not leave the library. The young lawyer wore a serious look. After Howard Wycliff and Miles Vorber had gone, he walked about the room, glancing here and there. Finally, he extinguished the light and retired.
DEEP silence pervaded the old mansion. There was no noise from the ground floor, where Paul Marchelle kept vigil in the library; nor from the second floor, where Howard Wycliff slept. But on the third floor, a man was wide awake, long after the others had retired.
Miles Vorber was seated upon the edge of his bed. A revolver — his own — lay close at hand. The servant’s face was harsh and determined. Vorber was thinking of what had occurred in the library.
Whether ghost or human, the being whom he had seen there resembled only some fantastic creature of a nightmare. Reflecting, Vorber fully believed that he had been the victim of a strange delusion. Once the old servant stalked from his room, revolver in hand, to listen at the head of the stair. Intent, he seemed ready to pay another visit to the library. The thought of Paul Marchelle on guard restrained him.
Peering eyes were watching from a long alcove when Miles Vorber returned to his room. The old servant extinguished the light, and went to bed. He did not hear the slight sounds which came from the window as a living form departed.
The Shadow had reentered the old mansion. He had made a final survey of the situation. He knew that his plan had succeeded.
Playing the part of a spectral visitant, he had given Miles Vorber a clew to the whereabouts of the missing deed. By timing his action to the return of Howard Wycliff and Paul Marchelle, he had prevented Vorber from making use of the discovery.
Tomorrow, Vorber would be forced to act. It would be his only chance. By placing Vorber in a predicament, by clicking the closed shutters, The Shadow had also made Paul Marchelle vigilant.
Whatever steps Vorber might take, Marchelle would be watching. Vorber, in turn, would be observant of Marchelle. The way was paved to the culmination that The Shadow desired. The finding of the missing deed would be challenged when it occurred. The result would be the emergency which would bring the murderer here to aid.
The crisis would not arise until after the furniture had been moved. Then, depending entirely upon Marchelle’s aroused vigilance, a final encounter would result. So far as Miles Vorber was concerned, the missing deed was in his grasp, could he but gain the opportunity to take it.
But the servant would require outside aid before he could transfer that document to other hands. That The Shadow knew. The Shadow would be here upon the morrow. Miles Vorber would see The Shadow again before he would have the chance to dispose of the valuable trophy which he was ready now to gain!
CHAPTER XIX
THE NEW VIGIL
IT was nine o’clock in the morning when Howard Wycliff came downstairs to find Paul Marchelle, smoking in the library. The young lawyer was seated in a large chair beside the couch on which he had slept.
“Hello, Paul,” greeted Howard. “Any more ghosts?”
“None,” replied Marchelle. “If there had been, I would have heard them. I usually sleep with one eye open.”
The library was gloomy. Its windows had not been unbarred. The place was stuffy, and the only light was that which came from two lamps and a shaft of sunbeams that entered from a window in the hall.
“Let’s go in to breakfast,” suggested Howard. “Vorber is probably preparing it, now that he has heard me up and about. Before we go, however, it wouldn’t be a bad idea to open those windows.”
Paul Marchelle gripped Howard Wycliff’s arm and gave a head shake. He pointed toward the door, and urged his companion in that direction. In the hall, he presented a whispered question:
“You have the key?”