Part 4 (1/2)
Having mentioned the fact, Dunninger looked about the room itself.
The room had a closet in the rear corner, directly under the stairs leading up to the tower. The top of the closet was flat to start, but it sloped down frontward, to match the angle of the stairs. Clyde and another reporter had measured the closet and found its proportions quite large. Checking the figures, Dunninger found them satisfactory and led the way from the Colonial Room.
Downstairs they found Gustave chatting with Roger, both politely avoiding any controversy regarding the mansion or its ghosts. Dr. Torrance was talking to Wiggam, while Hector, wearing his customary white coat, was bringing a cup of tea to Jennifer. Seeing Margo, the old lady invited the girl to have a cup of tea; seating herself at the table near the fire, Margo saw something that roused her curiosity.
It was Jennifer's planchette.
”Why, I've seen one of those,” began Margo. ”Only it was different -”
”You saw a ouija board, my dear,” inserted Jennifer. ”This is a planchette.
With it, the spirits write messages. Come Miss Lane, let us place our hands upon the planchette and learn if Mr. Dunninger can explain whatever happens.”
As she spoke, Jennifer threw a challenging side glance at Dunninger, who spoke in reply.
”I can explain what happens beforehand,” declared Dunninger. ”Whatever the planchette writes will be the expression of your subconscious thought. Without realizing it, you will let your hand guide the wheeled pencil.”
”Nonsense,” retorted Jennifer. ”I shall be very careful to press my fingers lightly, while Miss Lane does the same. We shall ask the spirits to tell us what causes strange things to happen in Stanbridge Manor.”
”There is no need to ask the spirits,” said Dunninger. ”All we need to dois examine all possible causes one by one. To begin with, noises in old houses are often produced by some -”
Abruptly, Dunninger paused. He was looking straight at Margo, who was gazing back to prove that she, at least, would not cheat with the planchette.
At that moment, the heart-shaped board began to move, and Jennifer raised one hand from it to wag her finger at Dunninger, while she queried: ”You see?”
The planchette stopped. For the first time, Margo looked at the paper beneath it expecting to see nothing but a scrawl. A gasp left her lips as she observed a word upon the paper.
The word was: ”Rats.”
Angrily, Jennifer seized the planchette and the loose papers and stormed upstairs. She must have left the items on the table in the little hall, for she came downstairs immediately, though she ignored the group by the fireplace.
Dunninger had turned away and Margo was speaking in an amazed undertone to Clyde.
”I must have written it,” confessed Margo. ”When Dunninger started to say what could cause noises in old houses, I thought of rats. I must have guided the planchette without knowing that I did it.”
”Which is exactly what Dunninger said,” reminded Clyde. ”Old Jennifer has been cheating herself for years, but doesn't know it.”
If anything, the planchette incident was helpful. At first it didn't seem so, because Jennifer suddenly announced that she would have nothing more to do with persons that doubted the existence of the spirits. She was going to her room, without the usual ceremony of visiting Donald's grave.
Promptly, Dunninger turned Jennifer's decision to advantage. He said that every person present was free to do exactly as desired; that the more normally the household conducted itself, the more likely the manifestations were to occur.
This proved helpful to old Hector. The servant quavered that he was very tired, because of serving supper to so many guests. So Dunninger agreed that Hector could retire when it so pleased him.
As for the rest, Dunninger suggested that a few should get some early sleep in order to relieve others later. His plan was to have a committee on hand during the entire night, with headquarters in the great hall.
Though he had been given the Blue Room at the left of the second floor, Dunninger intended to stay up all night. That didn't apply to Margo, who was to sleep in the Green Room above the old parlor where the reporters had taken over.
So Margo decided to turn in early, on the theory that things probably wouldn't happen until later.
GOING up to the Green Room, Margo gained a real surprise. She expected the room to be spooky, but it wasn't. For one thing, it had electric lights, which didn't apply to the dining room or kitchen, though there were a few in the great hall. So Margo decided to go to bed and gain a proper sleep before her turn came to keep watch.
After all, the room was very homey, with the drawn shades hiding the barred windows. While she undressed, Margo kept pretending that she was somewhereother than Stanbridge Manor, the reputed haunt of ghosts. About to get into bed, she placed her slippers and dressing gown on a handy chair; then, extinguis.h.i.+ng the floor lamp, she decided to raise a window.
The bars weren't visible outside the window, because the cloudy night was almost pitch-black. That situation changed when two lights suddenly flashed long beams from the outer corners of the house. At first the effect was frightening; then Margo realized that the beams were from flashlights, carried by men who had gone outside to look for prowlers, a process that formed part of Dunninger's plan.
What Margo really didn't like was the prolonged wail that followed the appearance of the flashlights, a whine that was definitely spooky. It took the girl a full minute to realize that the sound wasn't the anguished cry of a protesting ghost. It was merely the night wind, swooping about the old mansion and whistling through the weaving trees.
That question settled, Margo managed to scoff at other sounds. She heard a m.u.f.fled thump that she decided could be nothing more than a banging shutter.
Creeps that seemed to vaguely approach and dwindle, were evidence of creaky beams throughout the old house, since Margo was unable to locate the sounds exactly. Such noises always accompanied a tumultuous wind.
Watching the flashlights, Margo saw them focus at a spot away from the house. Apparently the two men had spotted something, for they kept the lights fixed. Gazing from her high vantage point, Margo was sure she saw an elusive shape weave away from the combined glow.
It was the hour of ghosts, the exact time at which manifestations had formerly occurred in Stanbridge Manor. Yet Margo Lane was smiling to herself as she blithely left the window and slid into the comfortable old-fas.h.i.+oned bed.
Margo was sure that the wandering figure of the darkness was The Shadow, the living antidote for ghosts as well as crime!
CHAPTER VIII.
ONE GHOST LESS.
IT was fortunate for The Shadow's plans that only Margo was looking from the level of the second floor. The sudden blaze of the flashlights, sweeping away from the house, caught him as he was making a circuit through the cemetery, and only the handy shelter of a tombstone saved him from being observed.
As he swung behind the stone, The Shadow grabbed its sides. The lights were wavering uncertainly as though their owners mistook the tall gra.s.s for a moving figure, so The Shadow decided to maintain his present vantage spot.
There was only one flaw, which The Shadow should have remembered. The tombstone tilted when he gripped it, exactly as one had with Zeph Blaine.
The difference was that this tombstone didn't topple. It went back less than a foot, then stopped as though a brake had been applied to it. Not that The Shadow had removed his weight; there wasn't time for him to do so. The stone stopped of its own accord, holding The Shadow with it.
Flashlights found the tombstone. Even at that distance, the men could see that the monument was canted. But they didn't move away from the house;instead, they let the flashlights spread, then come slowly together, again, so there wouldn't be a possible chance for anyone to sidle away from the tilted stone.
The Shadow foresaw exactly what they were about. The moment that the lights spread, he left his perch and moved straight back through the darkness. So swiftly did he go that when the lights converged again, he was beyond their range.
Keeping the lights on the tombstone, the two men approached it. By then, The Shadow was far enough away to circle around them. He was right behind them when they reached the tilted stone; though their voices were low and puzzled, The Shadow recognized them as belonging to Roger and Wiggam.
”Odd about that tombstone, Wiggam,” observed Roger. ”Do you suppose the wind could have tipped it?”
”Possibly, sir,” replied Wiggam. ”But may I remind you that we have used the time allotted for our inspection?”
”That's right, Wiggam. We were to go all the way around the house and return by the front door. Very well, let us continue. We can report the matter of this tombstone for the record.”
Since Roger and Wiggam were going around by the kitchen, The Shadow took the path by the other wing. He kept close to the wall of the house, feeling his way along it by the s.h.i.+ngles of which it was constructed. In the shelter of the porte-cochere, The Shadow waited until Roger and Wiggam arrived. When they went into the house, he followed by the door.
As a mode of entry, The Shadow personally preferred the front door, because it gave access to all the house. He was simply awaiting an opportunity to use this ideal route.
In the great hall, Dunninger and the reporters were hearing what Roger and Wiggam had to say. The tombstone was possible evidence of prowlers and would therefore nullify any manifestations outside the house, but that was unimportant. Tonight, Dunninger was concentrating upon events indoors.