<h2 id="c23"><span class="small">CHAPTER XXIII</span> <br/>THE GYPSY’S WARNING</h2>
<p>When Rosemary Sample discovered that
the person who had attached herself to
the learned party being conducted through the
textile mill was none other than the spy, she
found herself in a tight position. This visit of
the wise men, she realized from the look on
Danby Force’s serious face, was an occasion of
no small importance. “A group of University
professors do not charter a plane every day in
the week in order that they may be conducted
through a factory or mill,” she assured herself.
“If I cry ‘WOLF!’—if I let them know there is
an industrial spy in their midst, everything will
be thrown into confusion. The charm will have
been broken, the entire effect lost.</p>
<p>“I’ll keep an eye on this spy,” she thought,
“I’ll see that nothing is taken from the mill.
When the tour is over I will see that she is
taken into account and made, at least, to explain
why she is here.” That the matter would
go much farther than that, she did not doubt.
Would there be a struggle? She shuddered.</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_218">[218]</div>
<p>During the half hour that followed, though
no one would have guessed it, Rosemary heard
not a word that her good friend Danby Force
was saying to the learned professors.</p>
<p>And then, at the very end, Danby did something
that commanded her attention in spite
of herself. The guests were passing one at a
time through a narrow door. Danby was working
levers on a peculiar instrument.</p>
<p>“Perhaps you would like to know—” there
was an amused look on his face. “All of you
might like to know what I am doing. I am
spraying you with the light from an X-ray
lamp.</p>
<p>“In your case I am sure it is quite unnecessary.
But it is a precaution we take with all
those who pass through our mill. In these days
of keen industrial struggle there are spies
everywhere seeking to secure advantages
through trickery. They often carry tiny cameras
concealed upon their persons. Should
there be one such among you, the X-ray light
would entirely ruin his negatives. His picture-taking
would be without result.”</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_219">[219]</div>
<p>As he made this explanation Danby caught
and held the little stewardess’ interest for a
brief interval. Fatal interest. Ten seconds
later, when she gripped his arm to whisper,
“Danby Force! There—there is your spy!”
she found herself staring at empty space. The
spy had vanished.</p>
<p>Danby stared at her in amazement. “What?
You don’t mean—” He was apparently unable
to finish.</p>
<p>“Yes, yes! She was here. She was dressed
as a young man. But it was a woman. I saw
her fumbling at the back of her coat, as only
a woman would. And now—now she’s gone!”</p>
<p>“Quick!” He whispered low, that the professors
might not hear. “Run outside. Perhaps
you can see her. If you do, ask any man
about the plant to seize her. He’d do it at the
risk of his life.”</p>
<p>There was no demand for such heroism. The
spy had vanished. Look where she might, call
others to her aid as she did, the little stewardess
could find no trace of her.</p>
<p>When, disappointed and downhearted, she
returned to the office of the plant, Danby
Force only smiled and said quietly, “Forget it.
We will catch up with her yet. You’ll see!</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_220">[220]</div>
<p>“And now,” he added briskly, “come with
me. We are to take this group of learned men
for a tour of our little city. Then, I regret to
say, we must part once more. You are to start
them back to Chicago in just one hour.”</p>
<p>What Rosemary saw in that hour’s ride
through shady streets and narrow, beautiful
lanes more than once caused her throat to
tighten with pure joy at the realization that
here at least was one community where happiness
and simple prosperity reigned. The
streets were clean, the narrow lawns well
cared for, the small homes painted, and the
people, for the most part, smiling.</p>
<p>Yet, even as her heart swelled with admiration
for those who could bring such a state of
affairs into being, her mind was filled with misgiving.</p>
<p>“It doesn’t seem possible that one selfish person
could spoil all this,” she said in a low tone
to Danby.</p>
<p>“Yet it <i>is</i> possible.” His brow wrinkled.
“Once the secrets of our new processes are in
the hands of unscrupulous persons, they will
be exploited. And that will bring ruin to us.</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_221">[221]</div>
<p>“We have not tried to expand,” he said a
moment later. “Perhaps we should have done
so. But it has seemed to us that much of the
unhappiness of the world has been brought
about by the desire of honest but misguided
men to tear down factories and build bigger,
to cut costs, to sell cheaper in every market.
Our aim has been an honest living, and simple
contentment for all.”</p>
<p>“Simple contentment for all,” the girl whispered
to herself. “What would that not mean
if it were realized by every person in this great
land of ours!”</p>
<p>Yet, even as she thought this, an imaginary
colossal figure appeared to loom above her, the
figure of a dark-faced woman who never
smiled, and she seemed to be saying:</p>
<p>“My bag! My traveling bag! It is gone!”</p>
<p>“And yet it was not gone,” the girl told herself.</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_222">[222]</div>
<p>“There’s a golden-haired French girl,” Danby
Force was speaking again. “She travels in
an airplane with a gypsy woman and a child.
Strange combination,” he mused. Then, more
briskly, “They have a secret of dyeing in purple
that would be of immense value to us. But
it belongs to hundreds of gypsies in France.
Dare we ask her to reveal that secret? Have
we a right to it? That, for the moment, is a
question. I am unable to answer.”</p>
<p>“Yes,” Rosemary replied, “I too know Petite
Jeanne. She is a dear!”</p>
<p>Little did either of them realize that at this
very moment Jeanne was close at hand, on
Happy Vale’s landing field. Rosemary left that
very field an hour later without discovering
Jeanne’s presence.</p>
<p>That afternoon, on wandering across the
grounds before the mill, Florence came face
to face with Hugo. He appeared quite worried
and ill at ease. His attempt to favor her with
one of his dazzling smiles was a failure.</p>
<p>“Does he know I took the picture?” she
asked herself after he had passed on. “Does
he know about the camera? And was it his
camera?”</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_223">[223]</div>
<p>As she closed her eyes and tried to picture to
herself the face of the spy she had so long
sought, she saw not Miriam Dvorac and her
dark sister, not Hans Schneider, not Ina Piccalo
and not the curious person who trimmed
the shrubs about the grounds. Instead, a very
different face appeared, a smiling face she had
seen many times before. Startled by this picture,
she exclaimed: “No! No! It cannot be!”
And yet the picture remained.</p>
<p>Yes, as Florence had guessed, Hugo was
troubled, so very much troubled that any person
with an eye for such things could have told
it quickly enough. And he was superstitious.
Oh, very much so! Selfish people who think
much of their own happiness and very little of
others are likely to be superstitious. So, when
one of his fellow-workers told him that something
very strange had happened—that two
gypsies, one very old and dark, and one young,
blonde and beautiful, had come flying in from
the air, he said at once: “It is Fate. I shall
have my fortune told.”</p>
<p>Jeanne was not in sight when he arrived.
Madame Bihari, seated upon her bright rug
before the tent, was shuffling her witch cards.
Shuffling, dealing, then gathering them up to
shuffle and deal again, she did not so much as
look up as Hugo, magnificent in his bright
garments, approached. His roving eyes sought
in vain for the beautiful young gypsy. His
countenance fell.</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_224">[224]</div>
<p>“But after all,” he reasoned, “I came to have
my fortune told. The older ones are best for
that.”</p>
<p>“Old woman,” he said rather rudely, “tell
my fortune.”</p>
<p>Madame did not look up. Her face darkened
as she cut and dealt the cards.</p>
<p>Hugo appeared to understand, for he said in
a quiet tone, “I would like my fortune told.”</p>
<p>Madame looked up. Something like a dark
frown passed over her face. Madame had lived
long and in many lands. There were faces that
to her were like an open book in a bright light.
She read them with greatest ease.</p>
<p>“Today,” she said slowly, “we have traveled
far.”</p>
<p>Then she shuffled and dealt once more.</p>
<p>Hugo grew impatient. He opened his lips to
utter harsh words, when Madame said:</p>
<p>“Cross my palm with silver.”</p>
<p>Carelessly, Hugo threw a silver half dollar
on the rug. The frown on Madame’s face
deepened.</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_225">[225]</div>
<p>“Here are the cards,” she said in an even
tone. “You must sit down before me. You
must shuffle them well. You will cut them
with your left hand—this is very important,
then you will deal them six in a row, then eight
in a row for five rows, after that six in a row
once more. All must be face up with pictures
toward me. To deal wrongly is sure to bring
bad fortune.”</p>
<p>Hugo’s hand trembled as he cut and dealt
the cards. Darkness had fallen. Only the glimmer
of a small fire lighted up the cards and
Madame’s dark face. Despite his care, he
turned the picture of a snake toward himself.</p>
<p>“Ah!” Madame snatched at the card. “You
have redoubled your misfortune.”</p>
<p>“Here! Give me the cards! I’ll deal them
again!” Hugo exclaimed.</p>
<p>“What is done is done.” Madame’s voice
seemed to come from the depths of a well.</p>
<p>And “Ah!” she muttered after one moment
of scrutinizing the cards. “What an evil fortune
you have laid out before me!”</p>
<p>At this Hugo appeared to exert all his will
to snatch away the cards, but seemed powerless
to move a muscle. So he sat there staring.</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_226">[226]</div>
<p>“The mountain, the broken glass—” Madame
was speaking now in a monotonous singsong.
“The fox, the dog, the rapier, the lightning,
the lion, all clustered about you and all
telling of misfortune! My life has been long,
but never have I read such omens of evil!</p>
<p>“And such a jolly life as you have lived!”
She went on without looking up. “Everything
has been yours—youth, love, friends, happiness—all
that you could ask.”</p>
<p>“And now?” The words stuck in Hugo’s
throat.</p>
<p>“Now—” Madame’s voice rose. “Now it
were better for you if you were not in your
native land. Discovery is at hand. Hate will
enter where admiration and love have lingered
long. The wealth you have hoped for will never
come. You shall wander far alone without
a friend.”</p>
<p>After Madame had ended this long utterance
of prophecy, she sat for one full moment
staring gloomily at the cards. Would she have
changed their reading if she could? Who can
say? How had she known so much? Had
someone told her? Certainly not. Had the
cards truly guided her? Again we must reply,
who knows? There is wisdom in every land
that to us, who think ourselves so very wise,
is hidden.</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_227">[227]</div>
<p>When Madame looked up at last, Hugo was
gone. Darkness had closed about the place
where he had been. With a heavy high, Madame
gathered up her cards. Then, having
thrown fresh fuel on the fire, she called softly:
“Jeanne! My Petite Jeanne!”</p>
<p>Jeanne peered with sleepy eyes from within
the tent. “Jeanne,” Madame said, “tonight I
have told a fortune. Ah, such a terrible fortune!
Tomorrow, my Jeanne, tomorrow and
the day that is to follow, strange things will
happen, very strange indeed.”</p>
<p>She did not describe the person whose fortune
had been told, nor had Jeanne seen him.
She had been asleep in the tent. Perhaps this
was unfortunate. But you alone shall be the
judge.</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_228">[228]</div>
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