Casper’s voice trailed off. The young man sank back upon the pillows. Howard Laustin, Joe Cardona and the country squire were nodding at this logical story of the fray. Lamont Cranston stood silent, a thin smile upon his lips.
Another man came into the room. It was the physician from Theswick. He began to examine Rodney Casper’s wound while the others drew aside.
“Shirley can substantiate Rodney’s story,” declared Laustin, as he placed his hand upon his daughter’s shoulder. “It is fortunate that they were saved from harm.”
“Yes.” Cardona nodded. “The case is simple enough. Only one point” — he turned to Valdo — “how did you and a few of your tribe manage to finish these mobsters?”
“We were dosta!” exclaimed Valdo, as he gestured. “Dosta — that is many. We were bish” — he spread his hands. “Twenty.”
“Say” — Cardona paused to note the gypsy’s face — “I’ve seen you before. Weren’t you the Rom that came into the morgue?”
“Ava.” Valdo nodded. “In New York. I come to see dead man. I think he may be Rom. He was gajo.”
“Zingaro, didn’t you say you were?”
Valdo shook his head.
“Na Zingaro. I am Czigany.”
“That’s right.” Cardona remembered. “Tour tribe was over in Jersey, wasn’t it?”
“Ava — Yes. We come here yesterday. Tonight, we hear shots like this gajo” — Valdo pointed toward Casper’s couch — “this rai, he say. We fight. We win. The others, they go back to camp. I stay, with trin Rom — three—”
“This fellow is all right,” assured Cardona. “You did a good job, you and your Rom. Too bad you didn’t get here sooner — that’s all.”
“I’ll send for the coroner,” said the country squire. “We can take these statements. They will be sufficient. Mr. Casper, Miss Laustin, this gypsy — we need no more.”
Valdo heard the words. He called to the other gypsies. He gave them brief orders in Romany. They filed out. Cardona marched from the room; the others followed, all save Cranston. He strolled to the veranda.
TWENTY minutes later, Rodney Casper was lying alone, in the living room. The physician had dressed his wounds, and had gone to report on the patient’s condition. Shirley Laustin entered.
The girl’s words were heard by keen ears beyond the door to the veranda. Shirley Laustin was speaking to Rodney Casper.
“The doctor says you can be moved to New York,” said the girl in a soft tone. “You will stay at our house, Rodney, until you are well. Every one believes your story. We will tell the same one to the coroner — you, I and Valdo.
“All think that nothing was taken from Uhler’s strongroom. I have talked to Valdo. His gypsies took the coffer to the camp. Valdo will bring the gems to New York.”
“The Rom can be trusted,” assured Casper.
“Especially Valdo,” smiled Shirley. “Lorenna told me how his band of gypsies — Los Gitanos, she called them — used to dwell on your estate near Seville, under your protection. That is why Valdo serves you.”
“He trailed Mandrez. Valdo would never fail me.”
“So your wealth is safe. Nothing will be known. And yet, Rodney — Rodrigro — I cannot realize our good fortune. I still remember how miraculous it all seemed when that fight took place in the strongroom. Those villains falling—”
“Sh-h!” warned Rodney. “Some one might overhear—”
LAMONT CRANSTON’S tall form moved along the veranda. His keen eyes were studying the tower, now bathed in enclouded moonlight. That was the tower which he, The Shadow, had scaled. From its high room he had come to bring an end to crime.
By that same tower had he left. As Lamont Cranston, he had returned, to lend his aid should complications rise. Instead, all had been explained. Rodney Casper’s twisted story had passed as perfect fact.
A whispered laugh sounded in the shadowed darkness of the veranda. It was an echo of mocking tones that had sounded triumphant within the walls of this great mansion. That laugh had marked the doom of villains. Its whispered echoes, softened, were emphasis of The Shadow’s satisfaction.
Men of crime were dead. Those whose cause had been right still lived. The hand of The Shadow had shown its might. Justice, like The Shadow, had found victory!