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!
CHAPTER XVI. THE GYPSY CAMP
SUNDAY noon. Rodney Casper, seated alone at a mammoth dining room table, was enjoying a breakfast of bacon and eggs. A solemn-faced servant appeared, bringing a cup of steaming coffee.
Casper reached for cream and sugar. He heard footsteps beyond the table. He looked up to see Shirley Laustin at the doorway. The girl was smiling.
“Hello, sleepy,” she laughed. “Or was it the effects of Mr. Uhler’s beverages that kept you in bed so late?”
“Lack of sleep,” returned Casper, as the girl seated herself opposite to him. “I stayed up until dawn, helping helpless guests to start their antique motors.”
“I arose at nine,” said Shirley. “I had breakfast with father. He and the chauffeur left for New York. They will not be back until late tonight.”
Casper nodded.
“The party, last night,” observed Shirley, resting her chin upon her hands, as she placed elbows on the table, “was quite boring. So far as the local talent was concerned, I mean. You were really wonderful, Rodney.”
“How so?”
“Don’t you remember?” Shirley’s tone showed disappointment. “It was after father had turned in early. One of those rowdy guests behaved quite rudely—”
“And I pitched the bounder off the veranda.” Casper sipped at his coffee. “That was nothing. He landed in a flower bed.”
“But he didn’t come back to start another row, did he? You’re a great chap, Rodney.”
“I was appointed to look out for you, I did. That was all.”
Shirley Laustin smiled. She had come to like this young man who was her father’s friend. She waited, expecting Casper to make some further comment. When none came, Shirley made another remark.
“It was like you, Rodney,” she said, “to help those befuddled guests on their way home. Father was right — Mr. Uhler throws heavy parties. What happened to that fellow who went to sleep in the shrubbery?”
“Where?” Casper seemed puzzled.
“In back of the veranda. I heard you talking to him. Rodney. Don’t you remember? It was before father went to bed. You were sitting on the stone rail at the back of the veranda, smoking. I could see you from the living room. Suddenly, you dropped down from the rail. I went out to see what was the matter.”
Casper was sipping at his coffee. Shirley nodded solemnly, then said:
“I heard you talking, Rodney. Some man was mumbling replies. You called him by a name, I thought. What was it? Ah! I remember! It was a name that sounded like Valdo.”
“Valdo?” Rodney Casper set down his cup. He leaned back in his chair and laughed. “What an imagination you have, Shirley! That was some poor chap who tumbled off the veranda and couldn’t find his way back. I dropped down to help him. I was saying: ‘Come on, old fellow, old fellow’ — and he was still trying to find his way out of the shrubbery.”
“So that was it,” laughed Shirley. “‘Old fellow.’ Of course. That’s what you would have said. But to me it sounded like a name — ‘Valdo’ — an odd name.”
“Where is our host?” questioned Casper, changing the subject. “I haven’t seen him since I came down stairs.”
“Still asleep, I suppose,” replied Shirley. “We are alone down here — except for the servants — and what a lot of them there are!
“I think they must work in shifts. They’re like goldfish in a bowl. Every time you try to count them, the total is different.”
Rodney Casper smiled. The girl’s description amused him. Rising, he glanced at the window. His smile increased.
“A wonderful day,” he remarked. “I think I shall go out on the veranda and take a look at the river. I’ll be a bit more agreeable after I really wake up, Shirley.”
CASPER strolled from the dining room. He crossed a broad hall, passed through the living room and stepped out on the veranda. This was on the higher side of the house. The slope was gentle below the porch.
Lighting one of his favorite cigarettes, Rodney Casper stared at a clump of shrubbery at the back of the veranda. He scowled.
Last night, Casper had chosen this rail to make himself conspicuous. He had expected a visit from Valdo — it had been announced by a low whistle from the shrubbery.
Casper had congratulated himself upon dropping, unseen, from the rail. To-day, he had learned that Shirley Laustin had seen him. More than that, the girl had overheard his calling the gypsy by name.
Casper’s scowl ended. The man shrugged his shoulders. After all, he had passed over the event with credit. Shirley had accepted his simple explanation.
“Looking at the shrubbery?”
The question came at Casper’s elbow. The young man turned to see Shirley Laustin standing beside him.
A smile appeared beneath Casper’s mustache.
“I was studying the river,” remarked Casper. “Noting its resemblance to the fjords that one sees in Norway. I believe, Shirley, that I shall take a stroll down one of those precipitous paths toward the Hudson.
“I would invite you” — Casper paused to eye the girl’s light, high-heeled shoes — “but I am afraid that you would require heavy boots. I am a great believer in morning exercise. So, if you will excuse me—”
“I won’t,” interposed Shirley. “I have a better plan. You can take your walk later. Come out to the front of the house.”
Reluctantly, Casper followed. Shirley pointed to a trim roadster. The top was down. She urged the man to enter the car. Casper obeyed. Immediately, the girl scrambled to the wheel, pressed the starter and put the car in gear. They shot along the road away from the house.