Gypsy Vengeance

CHAPTER XVII. CASPER PREPARES

“Los hombres, senor. They have come. I have seen them near the house to-day.”

Valdo was speaking in Spanish. Rodney Casper nodded with approval as he stood within the little gypsy tent.

“Speak thus, Valdo,” he replied, in the same language. “None can understand us. Some of your tribe may know English.”

“But not Spanish, senor.” Valdo shook his head and showed his teeth in a gleaming smile. “All are Rom; but I am the only one who has lived with los Gitanos.”

“About the men,” queried Casper. “When did they get here?”

“Last night, perhaps. But you were wise, senor. They would not strike while many people were at the house. Tonight—”

“Where are they located?”

“On the side below.”

“How many?”

“I can only guess, senor.” Valdo, as he raised his fingers, reverted to gypsy dialect: “okhto, enea, desh” then, in Spanish — “ocho, nueve, diez.”

Rodney Casper nodded. Eight, nine, or ten. A formidable band should the crooks gain entry to the house, with Uhler’s servants not suspecting a gang attack.

“How many can you muster?” quizzed Casper.

“Bish—” Valdo spread both hands twice.

“Veinte?” asked Casper, not sure of the Romany term for twenty. Valdo nodded.

“I shall move about,” assured Valdo. “I have two men — they are Czigany — who will watch from beyond that porch. In the woods, senor, will be the others. When I come to my two, they will go to bring the rest.”

“Good. We must work early, by ten o’clock if possible. There will be no guests tonight — except Laustin — who will be back at nine, I feel sure. Half past nine — that is the time, Valdo, unless I signal from the upstairs window. The flash of light will mean—”

“That we must wait?”

“Yes. One half hour.”

“Until ten.”

There was a pause. Valdo broke in with a serious question:

“The girl, senor. Why did you bring her here?”

“She brought me,” returned Casper, with a wry smile. “Worse than that, she recognized Lorenna. This girl is Laustin’s daughter.”

“She must not speak—”

“Do not worry. She likes Lorenna. I shall caution her to say nothing.”

“All is well, then, senor. If she is a friend to Lorenna, you may be sure that Lorenna has also spoken to her.”

CASPER stepped from the tent. Shirley Laustin was not in sight. The young man beckoned Valdo to follow. As he turned, Casper noticed the tall gypsy standing by the next tent. He wondered if the fellow could have been listening.

Next, he noted the man’s profile, as the gypsy stared across the camp. The features seemed oddly familiar; yet Casper, keen though his observation was, never thought of connecting the gypsy with Lamont Cranston.

“Who is that fellow?” he queried in Spanish, as Valdo stepped in view.

“When I brought our band here, from in New Jersey,” explained Valdo, “he joined us. That was yesterday. He is going on to find his own tribe, farther north.”

“You are sure he is not un Gitano?”

“He is of the Ziegeuner. From Germany. He speaks different from the rest. This tribe has Czigany, Zingaro and the rest are from England.”

“Ordinary gypsies?”

“Si, senor. They do not speak Romany well. Tacho romani jib — the old language — they have lost it in England.”

Casper was nodding; his head toward the ground. Another idea occurred to him. He pushed the gypsy back into the tent. Drawing a telegraph blank from his pocket, Casper began to print a message.

“Give this to one of your men, Valdo,” ordered Casper. “Here” — he drew coins from his pocket — “is the exact amount. Have your man take it to the station. The office closes at half past eight. The agent will be busy.

“Your man will push this through the window. He will say ‘Telegram’ — that is all. Then he must go before the agent sees him.”

“I understand.” replied Valdo. “So the agent will think that my man is gajo.”

“Yes.”

Casper peered from the tent. He made a quick parting gesture to Valdo; then stepped through the flaps.

Shirley Laustin had come from Lorenna’s tent. The girl appeared solemn as she saw Rodney Casper.

Together, they walked back to the roadster. Shirley took the wheel and drove slowly away.

“You talked with Lorenna,” remarked Casper, in an easy tone.

“Yes,” replied Shirley.

“What did she tell you?” questioned the man.

“Only that she is innocent,” replied the girl. “I believe her, Rodney.”

“Do not mention that you have seen her.”

“Of course not.”

“I strolled about while you were talking with Lorenna,” spoke Casper, in a casual tone. “I looked into some of those tents. Odd living quarters, aren’t they?”

“Lorenna’s furnishings are turkey red,” replied Shirley. “So trivial compared with those she used to have.

Yet she tells me she is happy — back, again, with her own people.”

“That is the way with all gypsies.”

“But she was worried because I did not have my pendant. She told me it would mean great danger — soon.”

Rodney Casper laughed. He seemed in good spirits, in contrast to his mood earlier in the day. Shirley Laustin had brightened when they arrived at Uhler’s house.

THEIR host was about. Hampton Uhler, gruff and domineering, was barking orders to his servants as they entered. Seeing his guests, the man with the big mustache calmed a bit. He invited them to walk about the grounds.

Rodney Casper, looking across the lawn, kept eyeing a clump of thick trees beyond the lowest corner of the house. He recalled that Howard Laustin had mentioned that spot. The window of Uhler’s strongroom was visible from there. But Casper doubted that Jerwyn could have gained and passed along that information. He did not know that the dead man had spied during the conversation at Laustin’s.

Dinner was served at dusk. Rodney Casper was convivial. His pleasant chatter brought many guffaws from Hampton Uhler. Yet all the while, Casper was playing a part. He was studying Uhler’s servants, sizing them up, wondering where they would be tonight.

Also, he was thinking of events outside the house — of the clump of trees — the woods where the gypsies were to be — of the gangsters lurking in the gloom. Then the telegram; and finally — a thought that he could not escape — the tall gypsy whom he had seen at the tent next to Valdo’s.

Dinner ended; Uhler and Casper lighted cigars. They sat chatting in the living room, while Shirley was silent — almost morose. Uhler eyed the girl.

“Why so quiet, my girl?” rumbled Uhler.

“Shirley is worried,” responded Casper, promptly. “She has been promised bad luck.”

“How so?”

SHIRLEY stared toward Casper as Uhler spoke. She could not understand why Casper had deliberately turned the conversation so that it might lead to Lorenna.

“Some fortune teller talked to her,” smiled Casper, avoiding Shirley’s glance. “Told her that unless she wore a certain amulet, she might find danger and misfortune.”

“An amulet?” Uhler pricked up his ears. He turned to Shirley. “A jewel? What was it like? Not—”

“The pendant that you sold to father,” declared Shirley. “The one with the Spanish topaz.”

“From my collection.” Uhler shifted uneasily. “Ah, yes. Did Laustin mention it to you, Casper?”

“He did,” returned the young man, frankly. “He knew that I am interested in gems. I told him about a rajah’s jewel that I once purchased. It was a trifle, really — it cost me only twenty thousand rupees. I have been desirous, however, of purchasing some more valuable stones.”

“Laustin said something about another purchase,” mused Uhler, nodding. “When he arrives, we can go to the strongroom.”

“He probably had me in mind,” parried Casper. “I should like to see the gems.”

“Father will not be here until late.” remarked Shirley. “He may have been detained in New York.”

“Unfortunate,” said Casper. “I had intended to retire early. Last night was strenuous. I doubt that I can keep awake much after nine o’clock.”

“Why did you say unfortunate?” queried Uhler, in a suspicious tone.

“Because we must leave early tomorrow,” returned Casper. “I am going back to England soon. I doubt that I can pay another visit here, much though I should like to do so.”

Uhler tugged at his mustache. Casper detected a miserly gleam in the man’s eyes. Laustin had been right.

Uhler was anxious to dispose of certain gems. The wedge had been made.

“If Laustin is not here” — Uhler paused — “by half past nine, Casper, we can look at the gems ourselves.

You, Miss Laustin, are welcome to join if—”

“I do not feel like seeing jewelry tonight,” interposed Shirley. “What Rodney says is true. I am depressed.”

“We shall go the strongroom alone, then,” said Uhler to Casper. “At nine thirty — if our friend Laustin still is absent.” Rodney Casper suppressed a satisfied smile. Again, he was thinking of complications. It was after eight o’clock. He knew that factions must be moving.

THE surmise was correct. A pair of touring cars had parked in an obscure spot two miles from Uhler’s home. A crew of gangsters — nine under Marty Lunk’s command — were pressing through thickets toward the clump of trees below the house.

At the gypsy camp, odd members of the band had slipped from view. Valdo, joining them a furlong from the tents, was talking low, in Romany. Nods were the response. Two men — the Czigany — stepped aside for further orders.

The band moved forward, twenty strong. Valdo lingered, with one lone gypsy. He gave the man the telegraph blank and the money. The fellow nodded as he heard his orders. Then Valdo, moving forth alone, took a path that carried him ahead of his minions.

Nearly a dozen mobsmen — a full score of gypsies — such were the groups that were moving toward the one objective. These were the ones that Rodney Casper expected. There was another — whose presence none expected.

In an obscure tent, lighted by a single candle, a tall gypsy was opening a canvas bag. From the interior came these objects: slouch hat, gloves, a black cloak — last of all, four automatics.

The cloak slipped over the gypsy’s head. The slouch hat settled into place. The gloves slid over long, white fingers. Fists, now black, thrust two automatics beneath the cloak. The second brace of weapons followed.

In the wavering candle light, The Shadow stood, a spectral monster. Only for moments was he thus revealed. A snap of gloved fingers snuffed the candle flame. Darkness became The Shadow’s dwelling.

A stealthy figure moved unheard among the wagons of the gypsy train. A few of the Rom were yet awake; but none among them heard The Shadow’s passage. Like night itself, this figure of blackness traveled forth.

Last to prepare, The Shadow would be the first to reach his goal. He had heard — and understood — the Spanish conversation that had passed between Rodney Casper and Valdo in the afternoon. He knew the methods that Marty Lunk would use; for The Shadow knew that Claude Jerwyn had learned the location of Hampton Uhler’s strongroom.

Fabulous wealth — priceless gems from a grandee’s castle in old Spain! Possessions held by a man who had bought them from a traitor, whose lips had been sealed by death.

Sought by an adventurer within the house itself, challenged by a mobleader with veteran gorillas at his heels, guarded by a band of formidable servants, the fate of the gems was resting in the balance.

Uhler, with his menials; Lunk, with his mobsmen; Casper, crafty, backed by a score of gypsies ready to bring aid — all were factors bristling with strength.

Yet within this triangle lay another factor. A lone wolf, ready to battle alone. The Shadow had entered as a formidable power.

Within the coming hour, each group would learn the terror that The Shadow could create. His hand, unseen, was hovering above the coveted wealth, ready to pluck it from the clutch of evil men!