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, extinguishing 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-fashioned 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 shingles 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.

Not only had Dunninger taped the door that led to the tower; he had done the same with the back door that Jennifer so frequently used. To make sure that all was intact, Dunninger sent the reporters to examine the doors in question.

Those who went upstairs were to continue down through the kitchen and around through the dining room.

Roger and Wiggam decided to go along, one with each group, but Gustave preferred to remain by the fire and debate the subject of ghosts with Torrance.

While the pair were thus engaged, Dunninger stood before the fire, glancing occasionally from one man to the other.

It was during this interlude that The Shadow tried the front door.

Finding it unlatched, he opened it. Outer blackness seemed to filter through s.p.a.ce too narrow for a human figure to navigate. As softly as it had opened, the door closed behind The Shadow.

Neither Gustave nor Torrance noted the motion of the door, though they were in positions where they could have. As for Dunninger, his back was toward the door, making it impossible for him to observe what happened. Nevertheless, the door had hardly closed before Dunninger turned about.

Whether the investigator possessed some psychic power of his own, or had detected a faint breeze from the door, was a debatable question. The important thing was that Dunninger turned, not in the direction of the door, but towardthe higher portion of the stairway. From there his eye ran down the steps, viewing them through the rails of the banister, s.p.a.ces that received light from a lamp in the little upstairs hall.

Had The Shadow gone up those stairs, Dunninger would have glimpsed the pa.s.sing blackness, thus detecting an unidentified presence without the aid of a mercury bowl. But The Shadow did not ascend the stairs. He stopped at their turn, only a few steps above the ground floor. There, shrouded by thick darkness beyond the range of light, he remained so motionless that he was in effect invisible.

The others were returning, some from the arch beneath the stairs, the others from the dining room. Both reported that the doors were still sealed, but the group that came through the kitchen remarked that Hector had forgotten to wash the dishes. The oversight pleased Dunninger, since it placed everything in the same status as the night when the last manifestations occurred.

"We have three possibilities to consider," declared Dunninger. "The first, which I reject, is that paranormal ent.i.ties broke the dishes in the kitchen and threw nails down those stairs."

As he said "stairs" Dunninger gestured in the direction mentioned. Not once had his gaze left the upper steps.

"By paranormal ent.i.ties," inquired Torrance, "do you mean ghosts?"

"In a sense, yes," replied Dunninger, "though the term is hardly apt, since it applies to nonexistent creatures."

"But those nails!" exclaimed Gustave, suddenly. "Only a ghost could have tossed them!"

"Only a ghost?"

There wasn't a change in Dunninger's expression as he put the question.

He was standing with his hands behind him, his back to the fire. He didn't budge from his position nor move a muscle, yet at that moment something skimmed down from the ceiling and struck the floor in the center of the room.

Clyde picked up the object. It proved to be a fair-sized bolt. While Gustave stared, Clyde looked inquiringly at Dunninger. Unquestionably the investigator had just demonstrated his ability at duplicating spirit phenomena, but there was no way of explaining how Dunninger had done it.

"Another possibility, and a real one," continued Dunninger, "is that persons living in this house are responsible for the supposed phenomena. If they are" - his eyes were still fixed on the stair top, as though he pictured Jennifer and Hector as the persons in question - "it is quite unlikely that they are guilty of conscious fraud. Sometimes a long residence in a house like this produces a hypnotic effect upon the occupants."

The Shadow saw Roger glance at Gustave, who winced. There wasn't a doubt that the elder of the two Stanbridge brothers was showing the effects of too long a stay in the weird mansion.

"The final possibility," concluded Dunninger, "is equally acceptable. It is simply that certain unknown outsiders have been entering the house in order to play the ghost."

"But that's impossible!" expressed Roger. "I'll admit that I believed ituntil this afternoon, but we have thoroughly measured the house for secret pa.s.sages without result. There is no way anyone could enter - except by the front door."

As Dunninger repeated the phrase, he seemed to nod agreement. The reason was that he was letting his gaze travel down the stairs until it reached the lower turn where darkness still obscured The Shadow. Then: "The front door would be a good mode of entry," decided Dunninger, "but I can a.s.sure you that if anyone did come in that way, he could not yet have reached the second floor, which is also the only way by which he could travel to the kitchen."

Inasmuch as Dunninger's position blocked off the door to the dining room, the statement held weight. But no one, not even Clyde, suspected that Dunninger was treating the front door question seriously.

Only The Shadow knew.

TO a degree, the situation pleased The Shadow. Dunninger was keeping it static, almost as though he recognized that a hidden presence could represent a fellow investigator using tactics different than his own. All that The Shadow hoped was that something would soon break the deadlock.

Something did.

Down from the second floor came a rattle of unexpected objects. Not nails this time, but stones; small ones, but of various colors and shapes. As they hit, they bounced, making such a racket that there seemed a much greater quant.i.ty than a mere handful.

Nevertheless, a single hand had flung them.

Human or ghostly, that hand betrayed itself to The Shadow. He was located where he could see the top of the stairs, though he himself was invisible. At the first clatter, The Shadow looked up in time to catch a glimpse of the hand as it whipped from sight.

Naturally, The Shadow did not budge from his position, nor did Dunninger.

Everyone else in the great hall was excited, ready to dash for the front stairs. Dunninger raised a hand to restrain them and at the same time glanced toward a shelf at the extreme rear of the hall. On that shelf was the mercury bowl.

The silvery liquid was registering a vibration. It meant that someone more bodily than a ghost was moving in the upper pa.s.sage, the slight jar carrying down through the wall. Then, as the mercury jiggled slightly, Dunninger interpreted its action with the words: "We shall hear from the kitchen next."

Hear from the kitchen they did, when the whole table load of dishes perished with a mighty crash. The huge smash was the one thing Dunninger awaited. Though he suspected The Shadow's presence, he knew that it did not account for either of the manifestations. Therefore Dunninger welcomed the presence of the cloaked figure on the stairs.

It meant that The Shadow would have a head start toward trapping the ghost.

So instead of starting for the front stairs, Dunninger waved others in that direction, while he turned to lead the rest around through the dining room.

Dunninger's gesture was as good as a cue. With silent speed, The Shadow started up the front stairs knowing he could reach the top before the others gained the lower landing. Should anyone be coming up the back stairs from the kitchen, The Shadow would certainly be in time to block him.

Unfortunately, The Shadow encountered opposition.

As he reached the stair top, he saw Jennifer coming toward him. To avoid complications, The Shadow wheeled into the little hallway just to the left ofthe stairs. There was a coat rack beside the writing table and Jennifer's cape was hanging on it. Since the little hall was lighted, The Shadow made a quick twist behind the rack.

From that position, The Shadow could still spot anyone who might pa.s.s the little hall. He saw Jennifer come by, to meet the herd that thundered up the front stairs.

"It's Hector's work!" stormed Jennifer. "I saw him go down the back stairs to the kitchen!"

As she turned to point, Jennifer gave a stare. Hector was coming along the upstairs pa.s.sage from the direction of his own room. Irked by the accusation he was wheezing that he had heard Jennifer leave her own room earlier.

At that moment, Margo stepped from the Green Room, opening its door outward. She was wearing her slippers and dressing gown, but the latter was merely wrapped around her, because in her haste, she had been unable to find the second sleeve.

Swinging the door shut behind her, Margo stared as Jennifer faced the group anew. Forgetting her brief charge against Hector, old Jennifer p.r.o.nounced in sepulchral tone: "Then it was the ghost! And it must have gone through there!"

Crazily, the old lady pointed to the door past Margo. Despite herself, Margo turned. As she did, a vague white figure loomed from the depths of the Green Room, to lunge at her through the doorway!

As Margo shrieked, The Shadow made a quick swoop from beside the stairs, not to reach Margo, but to stop Gustave, who was arriving with the shotgun.

Catching the weapon by a reach across the man's shoulders, The Shadow diverted it above Margo's head, which wasn't difficult, for Margo, with a backward step, had tripped over her trailing dressing gown and was landing hard upon the floor.