Gypsy Vengeance

CHAPTER XIV. SWIFT BATTLE

TEN o’clock. This was the hour that Claude Jerwyn had set for Valdo’s return. Later, the cadaverous schemer had sent word for Marty Lunk to arrive before that hour.

Valdo and Jerwyn — each was but the pawn of a shrewd worker. Valdo had carried word to Rodney Casper. Jerwyn had sought the aid of Marty Lunk. In this conflict of pawns, Jerwyn had chosen the safer course.

To The Shadow, Valdo and Jerwyn were but of minor consequence. Valdo had led The Shadow to Rodney Casper. Jerwyn had been the pointing hand to Marty Lunk. So far as Casper was concerned, The Shadow had chosen a waiting game. The shrewd man from abroad had not yet shown a hand of crime. Whatever deeds he plotted were to come.

Marty Lunk, however, was a different case. The Shadow had watched him in the past — as he was watching Casper now — and had trapped the mobleader in the act of burglary. The Shadow’s score with Lunk was an old one. It could be settled tonight.

The Shadow, moreover, was planning for the future. Rodney Casper was planning to seize the Spanish gems now owned by Hampton Uhler. The Shadow could control that situation when it came.

Interference by Marty Lunk, though it might balk Rodney Casper, could likewise hinder The Shadow’s plans. Elimination of the malicious mobleader and his newly formed crew was a preparatory step before the coming climax.

The Shadow, however, had devoted valuable time to the welfare of his wounded agent, Cliff Marsland.

Marty Lunk had gained a long start. He had found ample time to reach Claude Jerwyn’s before ten.

Now, as that hour struck, Valdo was making his arrival.

THE side door opened. The gypsy stepped into the silent house. He advanced with catlike tread. His eyes gleamed as he saw the light burning in the downstairs room. That light; the door ajar — both were tokens of Jerwyn’s presence.

Valdo ascended the stairs. He reached the door of Lorenna’s room. A light gleamed from beneath it.

Valdo, as he rapped, noted darkness beneath the opposite door — Jerwyn’s.

Lorenna’s voice. Valdo entered. He closed the door behind him. Jerwyn had balked him of an earlier interview. This time, Valdo had words to say before descending the stairs to encounter the manager. He spoke tersely, whispering in the Gypsy tongue.

Lorenna replied. Her questions were eager. Valdo was explaining all. He trusted Lorenna. She was a gypsy woman — romni. The word “gajo” — contemptuously whispered — was Valdo’s reference to Jerwyn.

Then came his statements concerning Casper, suavely uttered: “baro rai kushto rai.”

“Tu penghias manghe,” nodded Lorenna. “Baro, kushto rai sas-lo—”

The words ended. The woman’s lips were frozen. Valdo, wheeling suddenly, stared toward the door.

The barrier had opened. Jerwyn was standing there, a short-barreled revolver clenched in his right fist.

Entering slowly, the cadaverous man closed the door behind him. He kept his left hand on the knob, ready to open it on an instant’s notice. His gun cornered Valdo; his words, however, were addressed to Lorenna.

“What were you saying?” he demanded. “What was that I heard when I came in?”

“Valdo tell me about thees man,” returned Lorenna, trembling as she spoke. “I say to him: ‘You have told me. He ees great, good gentleman.’ that ees all I have to say.”

“I told you to stay out of here.” snapped Jerwyn, turning to Valdo. “That is why I stayed up in my room. I wanted to see if you would sneak here to talk to Lorenna.”

“I do not find you downstairs.” retorted Valdo, blandly. “I come up. I see no light in your room. I come here to ask Lorenna where you are.”

“So that’s it, eh?” Jerwyn was half convinced. He lowered the revolver. “Well — I’ll let it pass.” He dropped his tone to a hoarse growl. “Where is the money this good gentleman sent? You have it?”

“No.” Valdo shook his head.

“What?” Jerwyn’s eyes blinked. The man seemed stupefied. “I told you not to come back until you had the money. What is this — a stall?”

“It is this way.” Valdo’s explanatory tone was confident. “He has sent for the money. Far away — to Europe. It will be tomorrow night.”

“Yes?” snarled Jerwyn. “I thought a Rom would keep his promise. You are a liar, Valdo — worse than any gajo.”

The challenge was too much to the gypsy’s pride. Valdo, his point half-gained, made a gross mistake. His sneering voice was a match for Jerwyn’s.

“Yek Rom” — Valdo stared fiercely — “he will always do what he say — except when gajo—”

“Na!” interrupted Lorenna. “Valdo — na!”

Jerwyn might have missed the inference but for Lorenna’s frantic gasp to Valdo. The woman had completed Valdo’s error.

“Gajo,” repeated Jerwyn, raising his revolver. “That means me, eh? You keep your promise — except when I do not keep mine. Is that it?”

Valdo made no reply.

“All right,” resumed Jerwyn. “If you want a show down, I’ll let you have it. You think I’ve double-crossed you. I have. I’ve got men here — three of them — and Marty Lunk is one. Do you know why? To kill you, Valdo.

“This crook you’re working for may be smart. I didn’t think it when he passed over five grand for my asking. I thought I could hook him for thirty more — twenty, at the least.

“I was going to take the dough and let you take the bump. Now you show up without the cash. That smart crook is wise at last. Wanted you to sound me out and then come back to him. Well — you aren’t going back. Savvy?”

Jerwyn grinned as he gestured with the gun. His left hand was still clinging to the door knob. Although armed, Jerwyn was taking no chances with the gypsy. A whelp of crime, Jerwyn lacked the murderer’s nerve — not through inclination, but through yellowness.

“Now I’ve told you.” Jerwyn found braveness in his own snarl. “Now let’s hear you squawk. I’ll let you go if you tell me where I can reach that smart crook. Maybe he’s got more than thirty grand. I’ll divvy with Marty Lunk if he gets the guy.”

“You think that I will tell?” Valdo’s prompt reply was disdainful. “You say, that you will kill me even if I have bring the money. You ask me the name — I know that you will kill if I tell.”

JERWYN scowled. He had overplayed his hand. Valdo’s logic was indisputable. So long as the gypsy refused to reveal the name of Rodney Casper, Claude Jerwyn would be balked. Jerwyn, confronted by a dilemma, looked for some new plan of action.

He could not keep Marty Lunk waiting. Already, he had passed the word to the gangleader. Lunk and his men had promised to murder Valdo and remove the body. But the gangleader, now that he knew that Hampton Uhler owned the gems, did not wish to linger in Manhattan.

A sudden thought occurred to Jerwyn. He knew a way to make Valdo talk. A sure way — one that was reflected in the cunning smile that played upon his waxlike lips.

“You will not tell me, eh?” questioned Jerwyn. “All right, Valdo. I am giving you one minute to speak. Then you die — if you have not spoken — and Lorenna will die also!”

To back his cowardly threat, Jerwyn began to draw upon the door knob. This was to indicate that he was about to call for murderers. At the same time, he gestured with his revolver, pointing toward Lorenna, who was crouching at the side of the room.

The action produced an unexpected result. The movement of the gun drove Valdo to maddened rage.

The threat against Lorenna — the brief opportunity that came to Valdo himself; they were sufficient. With a wild leap, the gypsy sprang upon Claude Jerwyn.

Frantically, the cadaverous man turned his gun to meet the gypsy. He fired as Valdo struck his arm. The shot, diverted upward, was buried in the ceiling. Valdo’s free right arm came swinging from his jacket.

Jerwyn, twisting loose, fired again. His nervous trembling hand was too slow with the trigger.

Valdo’s left cracked Jerwyn’s right. The shot went wide. A knife gleamed in Valdo’s right fist as Jerwyn swung to make a third aim. Before the cadaverous man could shoot, Valdo’s hand swept upward. The fist came loose as Jerwyn’s body toppled to the floor.

Face upward, the knife handle sticking from his breast, Claude Jerwyn had fallen victim to the man whom he had come to slay. Lorenna, gasping, stared wild-eyed at the dead form. But Valdo, Jerwyn disposed of, had chosen another task.

Seizing the revolver from the floor, the gypsy sprang toward the door. Three shots — a knife thrust — in less than a dozen seconds. Valdo was ready to meet the murderers who were to come.

THE door swung open as Valdo yanked the knob. Up came the gypsy’s gun, squarely toward a pair of blazing eyes that seemed to burn from the darkness of the hallway. For an instant Valdo faltered.

The gypsy had expected human foemen. He had not looked for a monstrous form of black. The Shadow had arrived at the precise moment when Valdo’s fight with Jerwyn had ended.

An instant’s hesitation — that was all that Valdo showed. Then, considering all whom he met as foemen, the gypsy snarled as he jabbed his finger to the trigger of the gun. Swifter than the movement of Valdo’s hand came the thrust of a black-gloved fist.

Charged with the weight of an automatic, the heel of The Shadow’s fist struck Valdo beside the jaw. The gypsy spun sidewise. His form rolled, to Lorenna’s feet. The fortune teller, screaming, dropped to see if Valdo had been killed.

The Shadow had swung back into the hall. Valdo’s attack had told him of a coming danger. His action was just in time. A flashlight blazed from the end of the hall.

Marty Lunk had heard the shots, crouching with his gangsters on the stairs to the little attic. Claude Jerwyn had told the gangleader that Valdo carried no revolver. Marty had supposed that Jerwyn had slain Valdo without aid.

But Jerwyn had not returned. Suspecting trouble, Marty had ordered his henchmen forward. The flashlight was high in the gangleader’s hand — above the heads of the gorillas, who held revolvers. The rays revealed an unexpected shape — The Shadow!

Flame spurted from an automatic. The echoes of The Shadow’s shot thundered through the low passage.

With those reverberations came a scream, as the glare of the flashlight vanished. Picking the torch as his first target, The Shadow had gained the darkness that he wanted.

With that shot, The Shadow dropped to the floor. Rolling on his back, he held his automatics almost at arm’s length above him. Revolver shots zimmed as the gorillas answered the opening shot.

The automatics spoke. Head backward, the master marksman picked the flashes that told where his enemies had crouched. The mobsters, shooting for the bursts of The Shadow’s guns, were high. They aimed for where his body should have been. Only clenched fists were there. These were targets that they missed.

The fusillades were brief. The barks of revolvers ended. The automatics ceased their roaring dirge.

Rolling to his knees, The Shadow arose and moved along the hallway. A tiny flashlight twinkled. Two bodies showed — the dead forms of Lunk’s gorillas.

Where was the mobleader? The Shadow’s light showed the stairs. The light went out. Creeping softly, The Shadow moved upward step by step. No ears could have heard that stealthy approach.

The top was reached. The dim outline of the skylight showed. The Shadow pressed the heavy barrier. It had been jammed tight from the outer side. The Shadow laughed weirdly. Prying with terrific strength, he forced the frame.

IN Lorenna’s room, Valdo had raised himself against the wall. His hand upon his jaw, the gypsy stared at Lorenna. The woman pointed to the form of Claude Jerwyn.

“Tu chinghian les,” exclaimed Lorenna.

Though groggy, Valdo understood. “You have killed him” — such was Lorenna’s statement. Valdo, though he had fought in self defense, could see the danger of remaining. He staggered to his feet.

With Lorenna guiding, Valdo reached the stairs to the first floor. The gypsies descended. The side door slammed to mark their exit. The second floor lay silent.

The figure of The Shadow reappeared at the door of Lorenna’s room. Once again, Marty Lunk had eluded the master fighter’s toils. The gangleader had fled, leaving his henchmen to battle with The Shadow. The fray had given him time for flight across the roofs.

ON the back street, cars were pulling away in response to Marty Lunk’s order. Sirens were whining from a distance. Some one must have heard the shots at Jerwyn’s. The police were coming.

The Shadow, still standing in the room where Claude Jerwyn lay dead, heard the same distant shrills. The sound was coming closer — almost to the front street outside of the house.

A soft laugh echoed through this room of death. The Shadow whisked toward the hall. His tall form ascended the steps to the attic; his shape appeared ghostlike as it passed through the skylight to the roof.

The Shadow, with no reason to remain, was seeking the path that Marty Lunk had taken.

Five minutes later, detectives had entered the house. Patrolmen had been ordered to search the neighborhood. The action was too late. Valdo and Lorenna had escaped. Marty Lunk had fled. The officers, as they began their search, failed to glimpse the fleeting form that issued from a vacant house on the street in back of Jerwyn’s.

Stanley, dozing at the wheel of the limousine, jumped up as he heard a voice through the speaking tube.

Parked more than a block from Jerwyn’s, the big car had been out of the path of the approaching police.

Stanley had not heard the sirens nor had he heard his master enter the machine.

But the quiet tones of Lamont Cranston were clear in Stanley’s ears, for the chauffeur had tilted his head beside the speaking tube. Nodding, he started the car as he caught the repeated words:

“New Jersey, Stanley.”

A soft laugh sounded in darkness as the limousine rolled from the curb. The Shadow was planning for the future. Crime was in the making. A double meeting was to come.

One meeting would be with Rodney Casper. The other would be a new encounter with Marty Lunk.

Whatever might come, no crook would elude The Shadow!