A soft laugh came from unmoving lips. The weird tones of that laugh were a whisper that carried a strange touch of mystery. Such a laugh had never come from the lips of the real Lamont Cranston.
This amazing impostor who bore the countenance of the absent millionaire was The Shadow!
He it was who had received the cable from Warren Barringer. The Shadow had recognized that Warren must be a friend of the absent millionaire. He had taken up the mission; but not as Lamont Cranston. As The Shadow, he had visited Delthern Manor to protect the interests of Lamont Cranston’s friend.
Now, still posing as Lamont Cranston, The Shadow had welcomed the returned traveler and had sent him on his way to the town of Newbury. Still as Lamont Cranston, The Shadow stood ready to respond to any requirement that Warren might impose.
The ghostly laugh of The Shadow had echoed through the reception hall of Delthern Manor. The presence of The Shadow had served Warren Barringer well. The way was clear for this young man to gain the wealth that was rightfully his own.
Was the laugh of The Shadow prophetic? Did it indicate new barriers that might obstruct Warren Barringer’s path?
Only The Shadow knew!
CHAPTER V
IN NEWBURY
WHEN Warren Barringer arrived in Newbury, the following afternoon, his first act was to register at the Century Hotel; then to make an appointment by telephone with Horatio Farman, the attorney.
Farman was not in his office when Warren phoned, but the lawyer’s secretary arranged the time for the young man’s visit. During the interim, Warren sat in his hotel room and pondered over his presence in Newbury.
It seemed strange to be back in the city where he had been born. Newbury, as Warren saw it from the hotel window, was a thriving and prosperous town. Warren liked the place, and was glad that he had returned. With the legacy that he was to receive, he could settle here and live in comfort.
Lamont Cranston had intimated that Warren would not find his relations friendly. Reviewing Cranston’s words, Warren now realized that the millionaire had issued many subtle comments.
In fact, Cranston had suggested that trouble might be brewing among the Delthern heirs, and had warned Warren to watch out for it. Warren had promised to let Cranston know if any peculiar events should occur. But now that he had reached Newbury, Warren had secretly determined not to annoy Cranston.
In his appreciation for Cranston’s kindness in communicating with Horatio Farman, Warren Barringer felt the friendly millionaire had done enough. Come what might, Warren was determined to meet all emergencies himself.
When the time arrived for the appointment with Farman, Warren was at the lawyer’s office. The secretary ushered him into Farman’s private room, and Warren shook hands with an elderly, stoop-shouldered individual who greeted him with an amiable smile.
WARREN BARRINGER liked Horatio Farman. The attorney showed friendliness from the start. It was plain, however, that legal duty was Farman’s inspiring motive. He began to discuss matters purely from the standpoint of a lawyer.
“The terms of the will are plain,” explained Farman. “The eldest surviving heir of Caleb Delthern will receive one-half of the estate upon the specified date, subject to his appearance at Delthern Manor. Each of the others are to receive an equal share of the remaining half.
“Since there are four of the secondary heirs, that means that each will receive one eighth. Such will be your portion; provided, of course, that nothing alters the situation between now and the date provided.”
“What could alter it?” questioned Warren.
“Various circumstances,” returned Farman. “I have not discussed them in detail, as my position is one of total impartiality. However, I feel that I am bound by duty to explain one possibility that was rejected, inasmuch as it concerns yourself.
“There was a question at our preliminary meeting regarding your eligibility as an heir. It was suggested that you had failed to assert your claim — your absence being self-evident proof of that fact. Had you been ruled out at that time, it would have required considerable litigation to reestablish you as an heir.”
“You mean,” questioned Warren, “that the other heirs wanted me to be rejected so that they might each gain a greater portion?”
“That appeared to be the motive,” admitted Farman. “The proposition was overruled, however, by Winstead Delthern. He decided that you were entitled to your portion.”
“One friend,” said Warren, with a smile. “I should like to meet Winstead Delthern.”
“It was not exactly friendship,” returned Farman, “that inspired Winstead to his decision in your favor. As a matter of fact, he wavered, but finally followed his sense of duty. Winstead could afford to be quite impartial. He receives fifty per cent of the estate, irrespective of the other claims.”
“I see!” exclaimed Warren. “Surely! Winstead is the eldest, and gets half anyway. The discussion was about the apportionment of the second half.”
“Precisely,” stated Farman.
“Well, everything is settled now,” said Warren. “All will end well. I’m satisfied.”
The lawyer eyed the young man thoughtfully. He began to tap upon his desk. Something in Warren’s frank expression prompted Farman to resume a new discussion.
“Warren,” said the old attorney, in a fatherly tone, “I have handled the affairs of the Deltherns for many years. Caleb gave me opportunity when I was a young attorney. I admired him and esteemed him as a friend.
“But I was forced to the opinion that the younger Deltherns were both ungrateful and avaricious. Of them all, there was only one whom I felt to be deserving. I speak of Marcia Wardrop, the youngest grandchild, who lived with Caleb Delthern.
“Marcia has a sense of gratitude; nevertheless, her life has been a restricted one, and she has developed a reserve that sometimes approaches melancholy. When you meet your cousins, you will find that three — Winstead, Humphrey, and Jasper — will receive you with marked antagonism.
“Marcia, alone, will be cordial; yet it will be impossible for you to understand her. She lives very much alone. She has very few acquaintances, and no real friends, to my knowledge. She does not care for her relatives, because she has learned to mistrust every one of them.
“I am sorry for the girl. Perhaps there is someone to whom she has expressed her innermost thoughts. If so, I do not know who the person may be.”
COMPLETING this dour summary, Horatio Farman paused. He studied Warren Barringer’s frank face, then resumed his discourse with a return to the fatherly tone.
“When I learned that you were coming to this office,” declared the attorney, “I expected to find you to be another specimen of a decadent generation. Instead, I discover that you are fair-minded, with no traceable faults of the Delthern character. Therefore, I advise you to do no more than make a passing acquaintance with your relatives.
“The attempt to disinherit you was a coordinated effort on the part of Humphrey Delthern and his brother Jasper. Their concerted action has made me apprehensive. Nearly one month remains before the estate will reach its final settlement. I hope that no complications will arise during the interim.”
The old counselor smiled warily. He made no further effort to continue. He seemed to be leaving comment to Warren. The young man nodded thoughtfully.
“I can see why you are anxious,” he said. “If Humphrey and Jasper are dissatisfied, they may try to press the point which they started. I shall naturally insist upon my rights, Mr. Farman. Nevertheless, I am not dependent upon this legacy. I possess a fair-sized fortune that was left me by my own father. He was a successful man; I intend to be the same.”