The Mystery at Dark Cedars

“I hate aunts,” said Elsie, with a sly look at Mary Louise and Jane. “I don’t want them to get a thing, so I’ll help put the food away.”

Max and a couple of the other lazier boys were pulled to their feet by Kenneth and Norman, and the picnic spot was soon as clean as when the party had arrived. Hope Dorsey suggested that they drive back to her home later in the afternoon and have supper on the lawn. Then they could turn on the radio and dance on her big screened porch.

“When do we visit these gypsies you were talking about, Max?” demanded Jane. “I’m keen to hear my fortune.”

“They’re back towards Riverside,” replied the youth. “About half a mile from Dark Cedars,” he added, to Mary Louise.

“They used to camp at Dark Cedars – at least, some gypsies did,” Elsie informed the party. “If they’re the same ones, you’d think they wouldn’t come back, after they were driven away by the police.”

“Is that what your aunt did?” inquired Kenneth.

“Yes, so Hannah says – Hannah is the maid, you know. She says Aunt Mattie hates them.”

The young people piled into the cars again, and Max led the way, off the main highway to a dirt road extending behind Dark Cedars. Through the trees they could catch a glimpse of the gypsy encampment.

“Has everybody some money – in silver?” inquired Max, after the cars were parked beside the road. “The gypsies insist on gold and silver.”

Mary Louise nodded; she was prepared for herself as well as for Elsie.

“Do we all go in in a bunch?” asked Hope.

“Certainly not!” replied Max. “You don’t think we could tell our secrets in front of the whole bunch, do you?”

“Must be pretty bad,” observed Jane.

“All right, then, if that’s the way you feel about it, I’ll go in with you!” challenged Norman.

“Suits me,” returned the girl, with a wink at Mary Louise.

As the crowd came closer to the gypsy encampment, they saw the usual tents, the caravan, which was a motor truck, and a fire, over which a kettle was smoldering. Half a dozen children, dressed in ordinary clothing but without shoes and stockings, were playing under a tree, and there were several women about. But there did not appear to be any men at the camp at the time.

One of the women, who had been standing over the fire, came forward to meet the young people. She was past middle age, Mary Louise judged, from her dark, wrinkled skin, but her hair was jet black, and her movements were as agile and as graceful as a girl’s. She wore a long dress of a deep blue color, without any touch of the reds and yellows one usually associates with gypsies.

“Fortunes?” she asked, smiling, and revealing an ugly gap in her front teeth, which made her look almost like a story-book witch.

“How much?” asked Max, holding up a quarter in his hand.

The gypsy shook her head. “One dollar,” she announced.

Max pulled down the corners of his mouth and looked doubtfully at his friends.

“There are fourteen of us,” he said. “Fourteen at fifty cents each is seven dollars. All in silver… Take it or leave it.”

The woman regarded him shrewdly; she saw that he meant what he said.

“All right,” she agreed. “I’ll go into my tent and get ready.”

The young people turned to Max with whispered congratulations.

“She certainly speaks perfect English,” remarked Mary Louise.

They sat down on the grass while they waited for the gypsy woman to summon them, and when the tent flap finally opened, Jane Patterson and Norman Wilder jumped to their feet and walked over to the fortune teller first.

“She’ll think you two are engaged, Jane,” teased Hope, “if you go in together.”

“Then she’ll get fooled,” returned the other girl laughingly.

The couple were absent for perhaps five minutes. When they came out of the tent Jane dashed down the hill to the road.

“The gypsy told her that her class ring is in my car,” explained Norman to the others. “The one she lost, you remember? She said it’s under the seat.”

“I could have suggested that she look there myself,” remarked Max. “Only I thought, of course, that she already had… Shall I try my luck next, or will one of you girls go?”

“I’d love to go,” offered Hope Dorsey. “I simply can’t wait. By the way, did she think you two were engaged?”

“No, she didn’t. She’s pretty wise, after all. She told me some astounding things. One was that a relation had just died – my uncle did, you know – and that we’re going to get some money… I hope that part’s true… You have to hand it to her. I don’t believe it’s all just the bunk.”

Hope ran into the tent, and while she was gone Jane returned triumphantly from the car with her lost ring. Mary Louise’s eyes flashed with excitement: perhaps the gypsy was really possessed of second sight. Oh, if she could only solve that mystery at Dark Cedars!

Mary Louise was last of all the group to enter the fortune teller’s tent. The woman was seated on the ground with a dirty pack of cards in her hands. She indicated that the girl should sit down beside her and gave her the cards to shuffle.

“I’m really not interested in my fortune half so much as I am in a mystery I’m involved in,” explained Mary Louise. She paused, wondering whether the gypsy would understand what she was talking about. Perhaps she ought to use simpler language.

“You mean you want to ask me questions?” inquired the woman.

“Yes, that’s it,” replied Mary Louise. “I’m staying at Dark Cedars now, and there are strange things going on there. Maybe you can explain them.”

“Dark Cedars!” repeated the gypsy. “I know the place… You don’t live there?”

“No, I don’t live there. I’m just staying there while Miss Grant is in the hospital.”

The black eyes gleamed, and the woman held two thin, dirty hands in front of her face.

“Mattie Grant is evil,” she announced. “Keep away from her!”

Mary Louise wrinkled her brows. “I’m not with her,” she said. “I’m only staying at Dark Cedars while Miss Grant is away.”

“But why is that?”

“That’s just what I want to ask you! Miss Grant’s money has already been stolen, and I thought maybe you could tell me what I’m supposed to be protecting – by sleeping in her bed every night.”

“In the old witch’s bed? Oh-ho!”

“Yes.” It struck Mary Louise funny that this gypsy woman should call Miss Grant a witch when she herself looked much more like one.

The gypsy, however, was giving her attention to the cards, shuffling them, and finally drawing one of them out of the deck. She laid it face up in Mary Louise’s lap and nodded significantly. It was the eight of hearts.

“Mattie Grant’s treasure – is – a ruby necklace,” she announced slowly, staring hard at the card. “With eight precious rubies!” She handed the card to Mary Louise. “Count them for yourself!” she said.