Mildred Chittenden stood wondering. The other men were gone toward the fourteenth tee, out of sight beyond the bunkers. She could see Walter Pearson, striding steadily into the grove.
A terrible fear seized the girl. She tried to cry out a warning, not knowing why. Then the call died on her lips, as she realized how ridiculous it would be.
It was too late, now. Pearson’s white-clad form was swallowed amid the trees. Mildred Chittenden stood alone by the shore, wondering what impulse had caused her to fear for the elderly attorney.
Slowly, the girl made her way back along the shore. The proximity of the grove, with its mass of motionless foliage, was more impressive now than before. Mildred was deep in fearsome thought when she reached the lawn by Lower Beechview. Harvey Chittenden and Craig Ware were seated on the porch. They did not notice Mildred’s arrival until the girl had joined them.
As the afternoon waned, Mildred Chittenden retained a troubled silence. Her mind could not forget that simple incident at the thirteenth hole. Some psychic influence seemed to tell her that Walter Pearson had walked into a danger zone, when he had entered the grove of silent motionless beeches!
Approaching darkness increased the tragic thought. The girl’s alarm could not be stifled. She faced the future with an unaccountable worry.
That night, Mildred Chittenden dreamed that she could see the face of Walter Pearson. It stared at her through a coppery haze, and its eyes seemed fixed in death. Then the dream changed and over the sleeping girl came the terrible fear that had clutched her within the fringe of the grove.
CHAPTER IV. AT THE CLUBHOUSE
“HERE’S news for you!”
Craig Ware passed the newspaper across the table to Harvey Chittenden. The two, with Mildred, were seated at late breakfast, on the second morning after the girl had seen Walter Pearson enter the grove.
Harvey Chittenden, no longer in ill humor, took the paper from Ware’s hand. He scanned the headlines.
Mildred, peering over her husband’s shoulder, gave a short, startled gasp.
Beside the largest headline appeared a two-column picture of Walter Pearson. It bore a significant caption of two words:
Lawyer Missing
Harvey Chittenden read the newspaper story slowly. He placed the journal on the table, and quietly began to stir his coffee with a spoon. Mildred picked up the paper and studied the account. A troubled expression came over her face.
“This is terrible, Harvey!” cried the girl. “They don’t know what happened to Mr. Pearson! They haven’t been able to trace him for two days. Where can he be?”
“I don’t care where he is,” responded Harvey testily. “If you want my opinion, I think that Pearson is a crook at heart. He wouldn’t be representing my former family if he was on the level. He’s probably mixed himself up with some phony deal, and has taken to the woods. That’s the type of a scoundrel he is.”
Harvey gulped his coffee and arose from the table. He strode out on the porch, letting the door slam behind him. His ill humor had returned at the mention of Pearson’s name. Mildred was wondering.
Harvey’s last remark had carried a double meaning.
“Taken to the woods—”
That was a slang expression, indicating that Pearson had purposely sought obscurity. But to Mildred, it carried a pointed recollection. The last time she had seen Walter Pearson, he was entering the grove beside the golf course. Did Harvey know that fact; and had he purposely used the phrase?
Mildred began to read the story more carefully, and Craig Ware sat down beside her. Pearson’s disappearance was unquestionably a mystery. The old lawyer seldom kept account of his actions, and the last time he had been seen was two days previously — first, when he had departed from the office; later, at the Beechview Country Club.
The office had received a call later in the afternoon, at which time Pearson had left the brief message that he could be reached at his uptown apartment. There, a servant reported that Pearson had called to state that he would not be in that night.
“ODD, isn’t it?” remarked Craig Ware. “Still, it is scarcely likely that anything could have happened to Pearson. Perhaps he decided to take a business trip. They will probably hear of him soon.”
“Craig,” said Mildred solemnly, “I saw Mr. Pearson two days ago.”
“You saw him? Where?”
“Over on the golf course. I had walked along the shore. Someone came with a message for him. He started off through the grove. That was the last I saw of him.”
“He was probably going to the clubhouse!”
“I suppose so, Craig, but the sight of him going among those trees frightened me. I had a terrible presentiment that something was going to happen to the man! I wonder — I wonder if he ever reached the clubhouse!”
Craig Ware laughed. He seemed to think lightly of Mildred’s fears. He stuffed his pipe with tobacco, lighted it, and gazed speculatively through the window.
“That is a silly theory, Mildred,” he objected. “Read the newspaper story again. You will see that Pearson was heard from as late as the evening. So he must have reached the clubhouse. I think it would be wise to forget the matter.”
“Why?” questioned Mildred, as Ware paused.
“Because,” said Ware, in a low voice, “Harvey feels very vindictive toward Pearson. You heard how he spoke just now. People sometimes attach significance to idle threats. You and I know that Harvey can mean no harm toward Walter Pearson; but others might not think the same.”
The door opened, and Jessup entered. The man was well dressed today. He looked more like a gentleman of leisure than an overseer of workmen.
“I’m going uptown, Mr. Ware,” declared Jessup. “I’ll have to see Mr. Chittenden, I suppose, before I leave the—”
“That’s right, Jessup,” responded Ware, with a smile. “Mr. Chittenden is head man around here. He went outside a few minutes ago. You will probably find him on the lawn.”
Jessup departed. Mildred, watching through the window, saw him meet Harvey down by the water front.
The two talked for a few minutes; then Jessup left. The roar of a motor announced his departure from the premises.
“I’ve been worried, Craig,” declared Mildred. “Worried about Harvey. I haven’t been able to sleep for two nights. The night after I saw Mr. Pearson go into the grove, I was sure that I heard someone moving about the house. I went to Harvey’s room; the door was locked. When I entered, I found Harvey smoking a cigarette, while he rocked in a chair. He seemed very angry because I had disturbed him.”
“He is nervous — that’s all,” said Ware.
“I heard a noise outside, too,” added Mildred. “I think that Harvey must have been walking about the grounds. It worried me, Craig. I never knew him to act this way before.”
“Don’t worry, Mildred,” said the showman soothingly. “He will get over that restlessness before long.”
Mildred tried to calm her fears. She went out on the lawn. Harvey had disappeared.
The girl wondered why he had talked so long to Jessup. Where was Jessup now? Mildred recalled that he had gone on business up in the little town beyond the country club.
HAD Mildred been an observer of Jessup’s present business, she would have had new cause for worry.
The solemn-faced supervisor was at that moment riding along the road that led to Upper Beechview, where the other Chittendens lived.
He reached a gateway that led into Galbraith Chittenden’s home, and drove beyond it. Leaving the car, Jessup moved through a clump of shrubbery. It was fully a quarter of an hour before he returned. He stepped in the car, drove back along the inland road, and parked beside the Beechview Country Club.