Gypsy Vengeance

CHAPTER XV. THE GUESTS

A LARGE sedan was climbing a road above the West bank of the Hudson. A chauffeur was at the wheel. Three people were in back. One was Rodney Casper; the others were Howard Laustin and his daughter, Shirley.

“You’re quite an enterprising chap for a Britisher,” chuckled Laustin, as he spoke to Casper. “Last night, you called me at half past nine, suggesting that I communicate with Uhler. At ten, I called you to tell you that I had arranged the trip. Now I learn that you checked out of the Hotel Gardley at eleven. And here we are — the next noon — on our way to Uhler’s.”

“Nothing remarkable about it,” smiled Casper. “I learned that I must leave New York early next week. That is why I called you, to inform you that this would be my only available weekend.

“I waited in until I heard from you at ten. You were prompt, in your long distance call to Mr. Uhler. Right after that, an old friend called me. He suggested that I meet him at the Hotel Goliath. So I checked out at the Gardley. Why go back there, since I had to be uptown?”

“Good logic,” laughed Laustin. “Well, young fellow, we are getting ourselves in for a rather riotous party.”

“How is that?”

“Uhler is holding a shebang tonight. One that will probably last until daybreak.”

“Other weekend guests?”

“No.” Laustin smiled at Casper’s anxious tone. “The burghers of Theswick. Uhler gives them a blowout every now and then. But they will all drift out before the quiet Sunday morning has half begun.”

Casper settled back more comfortable. He lighted a cork-tipped cigarette. Laustin chuckled.

“I thought the first part of that announcement would jolt you,” said the manufacturer. “Of course there will be no chance to speak to Uhler about his gems. That subject must be taboo until tomorrow.

“These local people are a fast lot with whom Uhler mingles only on occasion. They know nothing, of course, about his valuable collections. In fact, I have had Shirley leave her pendant at home. I am afraid people might question her about it.”

“I don’t like to be without it,” asserted Shirley. “You know what the gypsy woman said about it, father. She told me it was an amulet; that it would protect me from danger if I wore it constantly. She said it would mean misfortune should I fail to carry it with—”

“That is all fol-de-rol, Shirley,” interjected Laustin. “If you need protection, you can rely on me. Or, if I am not suitable, suppose you choose Rodney here as your knight-errant.”

“The honor would be a most acceptable one,” remarked Casper, with a bow to Shirley.

“It is yours, then,” returned the girl with a smile. “I may have to rely upon you, Rodney. Father will not be at Theswick, tomorrow.”

“No?” questioned Casper, in surprise.

“I must come back to the city,” explained Laustin. “I am leaving Uhler’s shortly after noon. I shall be back at Theswick, however, in the evening.”

“Bringing Mr. Cranston?” questioned Shirley

“I hope so,” replied Laustin, “unless he has started on another of his globe trots. When I called him this morning, he was not at home. The servant said that he might be there tomorrow.”

CONVERSATION lulled; then Laustin gave an exclamation. He turned to Shirley.

“I almost forgot to tell you about it!” spoke the girl’s father. “I read something about that gypsy woman in this morning’s newspaper. Madame Lorenna — wasn’t that her name?”

“Yes.”

“And the man who called himself her manager. Jerwyn — Claude Jerwyn?”

“Yes.”

“He was killed last night.”

Shirley’s eyes opened. Rodney Casper seemed surprised. Laustin settled back to tell the details.

“There was a fight at Jerwyn’s house,” he declared. “The man was found dead — a knife thrust to his heart. Two gangsters were also discovered. They had been shot.”

“Where was Lorenna?” questioned Shirley.

“She has not been found,” stated Laustin. “They think that she escaped. But the whole affair is a mystery.”

“How so?” asked Casper.

“The gangsters,” declared Laustin, “belonged to a group which the police believe was headed by a man called Marty Lunk. He is the fellow whom they want for burglary. He was nearly trapped, not long ago, robbing the home of Brandley Croman.”

“Where is the mystery then?” quizzed Casper. “The motive is plain. The gang must have come there to rob Lorenna.”

“A poor gypsy fortune teller!” exclaimed Shirley.

“Gypsies frequently have money,” explained Casper. “They are a thrifty race. The fortune tellers, in particular. I remember them as a boy, in England. Traveling with their wagons, hoarding the shillings that they earned with palm reading—”

“Lorenna made more than shillings,” interposed Laustin, with a smile.

“Yes,” agreed Casper. “Possibly the woman had saved several thousand dollars. No gypsy would ever use a savings bank. That is why I say there was no mystery. The gang must have picked the place as an easy one to burgle.”

“The knife is the mystery,” stated Laustin, wisely. “Jerwyn was Madame Lorenna’s manager. If he had been protecting the woman, he should have died from bullet wounds. But a knife must—”

“They haven’t accused Lorenna, have they?” asked Shirley, anxiously.

“No.” Laustin spoke sagely. “That is where the police are to be commended. They are sure that no woman could have driven so powerful a stroke.”

“Then what is their theory?” asked Casper.

“A rather good one,” answered Laustin. “I read the account most thoroughly. The best detective in New York is on the case. A man named Joe Cardona. He is very clever.

“The side door of the house was open. Cardona thinks that gangsters entered there. They captured Jerwyn and stabbed him. They did that to place the blame upon Madame Lorenna, whom the police believe was not at home. But the knife thrust was too deep.” Laustin chuckled. “A smart detective, Joe Cardona! The best on the force!”

“A good explanation for the knife,” commented Casper. “But it doesn’t account for the dead gangsters.”

“Cardona found the skylight open,” added Laustin. “He believes that other gangsters came in from that direction, to demand a share of the spoils. The two bands fought. It is logical.”

“I still am anxious about Madame Lorenna,” insisted Shirley. “Hasn’t she come back?”

“They are watching for her,” replied Laustin. “But I don’t think they will find her. If she has all that marvelous power, she should certainly be able to tell that the police were about.”

“Probably,” nodded Casper. “Gypsies are shrewd.”

That ended the subject.

RODNEY CASPER was thoughtful as the car rolled along. He knew the true details of Jerwyn’s death.

The call that he had mentioned — from a friend — had come from Valdo.

Casper, despite his pretense to the contrary, had read the morning newspapers. He had noted Cardona’s theory. It sounded credible. Yet Valdo had spoken hazily of a strange intruder — of a black arm that had struck from darkness.

There was mystery here — a puzzle that remained unsolved. Could it be that another man was in the game? Casper realized suddenly that his silence was attracting Shirley’s notice. He smiled and nodded as the girl pointed from the window of the sedan.

“That must be Mr. Uhler’s!” Shirley was exclaiming. “Am I right, father?”

“Yes,” responded Howard Laustin.

Half a mile away, a stone mansion showed in a clearing, above a sloping bank. Beyond that was a precipitous drop; below, the broad waters of the Hudson.

The house was lost from view as the car swung among thick trees. The machine coasted down an easy grade, through a winding road in the woods and suddenly rolled out in front of the house itself.

A SERVANT was standing on the stone portico. He entered the house as he saw the car approaching.

When the automobile had stopped and its occupants were alighting, a huge man appeared from the mansion.

Rodney Casper stared at the bulky figure. Six feet six, his frame proportionate in size, this man looked powerful despite his age, which Casper estimated as close to sixty. A broad face was fronted by a large gray mustache with heavy, drooping points.

This gave the man’s features the fierce appearance of a walrus; with it, the firmness of a military commander. Howard Laustin was introducing his daughter to the fellow; now Rodney Casper approached to grip a massive, beefy hand that had the clutch of iron.

“Mr. Uhler,” said Laustin, to the big man, “this is Rodney Casper. He is the gentleman I spoke about last night — over the telephone.”

Hampton Uhler rumbled a basso greeting from his muffling mustache. Rodney Casper nodded in return.

Uhler waved toward the house. Howard Laustin and Shirley entered.

A big paw clamped in friendly fashion upon Rodney Casper’s back. Like a pygmy beside his host, Casper entered the mansion, with Uhler close beside him.

Rodney Casper withheld a shrewd smile. This was the meeting that he had awaited. He had found the man who owned the Spanish gems.

Huge though Uhler was; keen though the man seemed — Rodney Casper was sure that craft and cunning would prove too much for him. Already, Valdo’s sponsor could see the glimmer of the jewels that he had come to gain.

Passing servants — husky fellows who looked like trusty aids; walls of stone and shuttered windows.

These were objects which Rodney Casper noted with approval. He was counting on them to hold off invading hordes until he, Casper, had finished his work within.

Yet in his shrewd inventory, Rodney Casper had forgotten an important subject. He was thinking no more of Valdo’s story — the tale of a strange fighter who had appeared from nowhere.

The Shadow — unknown to Rodney Casper — was another who could work well from inside. His hand was to play its part within these walls of stone!