Gypsy Vengeance

CHAPTER VI. VALDO’S SCHEME

“Ese es su sitio, Valdo. Quiere hacer el favor de sentarse?”

“Si, senor. Garcias.”

Rodney Casper and Valdo had arrived in the hotel room. The man from the steamship was inviting the gypsy to take a chair beside the window. Valdo’s teeth formed a gleaming smile as the gypsy heard the words in Spanish. It was a language which Valdo understood.

“El buen castellano,” remarked Casper. Then, in English: “We must forget our Spanish. Valdo, except when emergency makes it advisable. You have learned to speak English surprisingly well. It would be best to cultivate it.”

“Yes,” acknowledged Valdo. “I agree that it is wise.”

“You are a remarkable fellow, Valdo,” stated Casper, eyeing the gypsy shrewdly. “Most of your tribe speak nothing but their own language. I remember when you were with the Gitanos in Spain. You were their interpreter.”

“That is what I have always been,” returned Valdo.

“In Italy, among the Zingari as they called the Rom there. When I was with the Czigany — it was the same as with the Gitanos in Spain. The Rom are one; but I have journeyed with different tribes. That is why they have always asked me to talk to the gaje.”

Casper was nodding as he stared at Valdo. Drawing a case from his pocket, he extracted a cork-tipped cigarette and lighted it. Neither Casper nor Valdo were looking toward the French windows. They did not see the eyes that were watching through transparent curtains.

The Shadow had cleverly locked the windows behind him. Had he needed to do so, he could have reopened them with his thin pick. But The Shadow did not require this. From his position, he could view the moving lips of Casper and Valdo. He had read their Spanish statements; he was observing their remarks in English. To The Shadow, the words were as plain as if he had heard the spoken voices.

“It is well,” declared Casper. “English is best while we are in New York. I have passed as Frenchman, Spaniard, Englishman — the last named is best while I am in New York. I am a cosmopolitan, Valdo — at home in any country.”

CASPER puffed his cigarette. His eyebrows narrowed. He looked about him uneasily, as though to make sure that no one could be listening. Valdo seemed to know the question that was coming, as Casper leaned forward and hissed:

“What of Mandrez? Have you found him?”

“Yes.” Valdo’s reply was solemn. “I have found him. He is dead.”

“You fool!” Casper drew back with clenched fists. “You killed him!”

“Me na chinghiom les!” protested Valdo, in his gypsy dialect. Then, realizing that his words were not understood, he repeated: “I did not kill him. I found him — dead.”

“Where?”

“In the place they call the morgue.”

Casper’s eyes opened wide. The shrewd-faced man stepped forward as Valdo drew a clipping from his pocket. Holding the newspaper item to the light, Rodney Casper read the details of the finding of a body in the river.

“I went to see,” explained Valdo. “I found him — Mandrez. I pretended that I did not know him. There was a smart man there — a detective — who told the others that the dead man was Spanish.

“This detective asked me if I was Rom. I told him yes. I said the dead man was gajo — no Rom. They asked me nothing more. But I had seen Mandrez — dead.”

“I wanted to find him living!” snarled Casper, pounding his right fist against his open left hand. “I would have made him tell his story. Those gems he stole were worth millions, Valdo. He did not know how to get their proper value!”

Rodney Casper chewed his lips; then, in an easy tone, he urged the gypsy to reply.

“Tell me, Valdo,” he said. “You knew that Mandrez stole those gems. He was the only one who knew their hiding place. You followed him to America. You did not believe him when he said that he was coming to meet me in Buenos Aires.

“I offered Mandrez fifty thousand dollars to get the jewels for me. That was ample for his work. I could have sold the gems for nearly their full value. But Mandrez came to New York. He double-crossed me, Valdo.”

“More money,” interposed the gypsy, with an ugly smile. “That is what Mandrez wanted. That is why he came to New York.”

“To turn the jewels over to a gang of low-class crooks,” growled Casper. “Figuring on a larger share. They killed him. They have the gems. All is futile, Valdo.”

“No.” The gypsy’s face seemed to reflect the shrewdness which Casper had shown. “I do not think the gems are lost. Gangsters — they may have killed Mandrez — but not while he still had the gems from Spain.”

“What makes you think that, Valdo?”

“Mandrez was no fool.” The gypsy was emphatic. “He knew much, did Mandrez. I think that he had talk with some man who has much money. That man promised him more than do you.”

“Perhaps you’re right.” Casper puffed hard at the cigarette. “Yes — that would be the game. Mandrez could have told the truth to some millionaire. Gems — of fabulous wealth — hidden in the Duke of Almanza’s castle near Seville.

“Gems that the republicans would seize, could they discover them. Forfeited wealth, which the Duke of Almanza never could reclaim. Mandrez knew the hiding place. All he wanted was the guarantee of purchase — a sum greater than the fifty thousand that I had offered him. He had the transportation money which I had forwarded him.

“You are right, Valdo. Mandrez would not have dealt with crooks. He had fifty thousand dollars sure from me. He wanted more — he also wanted some one whose high repute would be protection.”

Casper paused to speculate. So far he had traced a theory. He was trying to puzzle out the subsequent events.

“Mandrez,” he muttered. “One time servant of the banished Duke of Almanza. Unclaimed wealth — millions that Mandrez could sell to the highest bidder. That much is plain. But after that—”

“Mandrez had the money,” interposed Valdo. “You see? Much money. That is when the crooks find him. They take away the money. They throw Mandrez deep in the river. With pieces of iron, so large—”

“Mandrez means nothing, Valdo,” interrupted Casper. “I must search for the man who has the gems. If I find him, I shall take them from him. Mandrez had my promise. I am the one who should have the gems.

“But where to find them?” Casper shrugged his shoulders and frowned unpleasantly. “New York is a large city, Valdo. Hundreds of persons here have wealth.”

Valdo was grinning. From beneath his arm, the gypsy had drawn the newspaper which he had purchased in the subway station. He waved the journal toward Casper, pointing with a brown finger.

CASPER took the sheet. His eyes studied the headlines. These told of the fight at Brandley Croman’s; how Joe Cardona and his raiders had shattered the strongest band of burglars in Manhattan.

The Shadow, peering through the curtains, could see a look of perplexity on Rodney Casper’s face. He also observed the wide smile that still showed on Valdo’s lips. Watching intently, The Shadow waited for the words that were to follow.

“How can this help us?” questioned Casper. “A gang of beaten crooks. What do they mean to us?”

“Very much,” grinned Valdo. “Read what is said in the paper. How those men had robbed many houses; how each time they could tell where things were to be stolen.”

“You mean that some one gave them information?”

“Yes.”

“And you know the person?”

“Yes.” Valdo became voluble. “It is this way, senor. When I come to New York to look for Mandrez, I need a place where I can stay. There is a woman here — yek Romni, she be — and I go to see her.

Madame Lorenna, she is called. I am told by the chief of the Rom to look for her.

“Madame Lorenna can tell fortunes. Very, very well. Much money comes to her, because she had a man who can take her to fine places. This man — he is gajo — they call — I forget the word they call him—”

“Her manager,” interposed Casper.

“That is it,” nodded Valdo. “That is it: the manager. He goes with Lorenna. She reads palms” — Valdo paused to spread his hand; then to clench his fist — “and she takes much money. But this gajo — bah! — he wants more.

“I live in the house with him and Lorenna. She and I talk, in Romany. She knows nothing. But I learn what the gajo is doing. All that Lorenna learns, she tells to him. He tells it to this gang man” — Valdo tapped the newspaper that Casper held — “to this one called Marty Lunk. Then the gang goes to the houses — to places where Lorenna learned that people have the money. They steal shtor, panch, shav — four, five, six times — until the police, they finish them last night.”

“Who is this manager?” quizzed Casper, suddenly. “What is his name?”

“He is called Claude Jerwyn,” responded Valdo.

“Is he implicated?” demanded Casper. “What I mean is, do the police know that he was working with Lunk?”

“No.” Valdo shook his head. “They do not know. That is why it will be good for us. Lorenna — she will still go to see people who have much money. These women — these foolish gaje — they tell her everything. They come to the house, sometimes. There are two of them tonight.

“But Jerwyn — he cannot tell the gang any more. They paid him money for what he told them. He will want more money. How is he to get it? I tell you. I go to Jerwyn. I say — would you like to get many thousand dollars? Twenty-five thousand — maybe fifty thousand?

“He will say ‘yes’ to me. I will tell him. He must take Lorenna many places among the gaje who have money. She must try to find who has seen gems from Spain. When she find that — and Lorenna is very, very smart — you can get those gems that Mandrez did not bring to you.”

RODNEY CASPER’S eyes were gleaming. Shrewd orbs peering from beneath a furrowed brow, they seemed to acquiesce to Valdo’s scheme. Casper crumpled the newspaper in his hand. Here, on its front page, was proof of Lorenna’s worth.

“You have found the way, Valdo!” exclaimed the man who had arrived from South America. “If Jerwyn got by with that game, while working with a band of gangsters, he can certainly get results for me.

“Go to him, Valdo. Tell him the truth — but not too much. Mention Mandrez; tell him about me, but not where I am stopping. Be cautious, Valdo. Be sure to convince him that I can handle this job alone. I want the information. I will pay for it.”

“I know,” nodded Valdo. “I tell Jerwyn that these crooks are nothing. That the man I know is better than them all. In France, in England, in South America — he goes everywhere. He can steal from any one—”

“That’s the idea, Valdo. Make it strong. It’s a safe game for Jerwyn, now that Lunk’s band has been beaten. One robbery will be all — you can tell Jerwyn that — and he will not even know the name of the man concerned in it!”

Approaching the chair where Valdo was seated, Casper slapped the gypsy on the back. Valdo’s smile gleamed. The dark-skinned man arose. He received Casper’s proffered hand; they exchanged partings in Spanish. Valdo left.

Rodney Casper finished his cigarette and threw it in an ash stand. His face wore a cunning smile as he strolled from the living room. He closed the door of the bedroom behind him.

The catch of the French windows seemed to move upward of its own accord. A black-garbed figure entered. The Shadow closed the windows and locked them behind him. He glided across the floor and unlocked the door to the hall.

After that door was closed, a slight click marked its locking. The Shadow had used his pick from the outside. Silence followed. The living room was empty, so was the corridor beyond.

The Shadow had departed. He had learned the details of the coming game. His work, however, was not yet ended. The Shadow was on his way to study the completion of Valdo’s scheme.