Flynn’s Weekly Detective Fiction. Vol. 25, No. 2, August 13, 1927

“Rita takes the money and put it in your inside coat pocket over heart. Then Rita get thread and needle and sew up pocket so that money can no get out. Then Rita say some magic words and rub heart with hand. In one week — not before — mister is to cut threads open and he will find the money doubled.

“It is a great gift which Rita has. It was given her by her grandmother — the great queen of the Shada tribe.”

I chuckled to myself. I’d heard of that game before. When the gypsies got hold of a fellow that was sucker enough to fall for it, they’d palm off a roll of blank paper for the roll of good money and sew it up in his pocket tight. Then how the poor boob would rave at the end of the week when he ripped open the pocket! Long before that time the gypsies had made their getaway.

But I was always curious to see just how they worked it. And I had to kill the time somehow until the sheriff got on the job. Besides, I didn’t have any great objections to Rita fussing around me and rubbing my heart — not as long as I was going to get the roll back later. It was Spring.

“Go to it!” I said. “But don’t you think a couple of kisses would help along the magic?”

She laughed like only one of them gypsy girls can laugh, and bobbed up on her knees. Then she plastered a smack on each cheek. I can almost feel them yet! They were the burny kind — the kind that sticks there for weeks.

“Rita, get the thread and needle,” she cooed, taking her arms from around my neck. “Take good care of money until Rita comes back!”

“I’ll do that!” I promised. But she was already outside, running to her old man’s tent.

I knew what she was after, along with the thread and needle — the wad of blank paper. And I had a good laugh to myself.

III

While I was laughing, I heard a motor car pull up in front of the springs. Getting up on my feet and sticking my head out of the tent, I saw three men with Winchesters climbing out of the machine. I knew it must be the sheriff and his posse, and I shot my eyes toward the chief’s canvas, watching for that gray-eyed gink.

In a couple of seconds he comes running out and looks down toward the springs, then toward the back. He was somewheres around my age, tall and well set up, and had on a dark blue suit. He’d stopped short when he caught sight of the sheriff, and I was up on my toes, ready to nab him if he started for the woods.

When he didn’t move, I wonders why until I saw four more men with rifles coming different ways through the trees in the back. That sheriff didn’t mean to lose his bird! He had the back and sides of the camp covered before he pulled in.

I could see that my gray-eyed friend knew the jig was up. His smooth, long face twitched and squirmed. He shifted his weight from one foot to another, and stood rubbing his hands, all nervous like. If you ever seen a scared crook, he was it!

About that time Rita comes running out of the big tent, plainly not knowing anything about the sheriff and his men, when the gray-eyed fellow in the blue suit grabs her by the arm and rushes her back into her dad’s canvas.

It wasn’t more than a few seconds before she comes shooting out again and runs like a white-head toward me, while the gray-eyed fellow steps out and watches her every stride.

I was mighty curious to see just what she was going to do, seeing how the sheriff and his men were drawing close to the tents.

“Quick, mister!” she pants, dashing into the tent and holding out her hand. “The police — they come! Hurry with money before it is too late! Rita, sew quick.”

That kind of knocked me off my feet — or it would, only I was sitting down again, seeing that Mr. Gray Eyes couldn’t get away. I had to hand it to that girl’s nerve!

Even with a young army coming in on her, she didn’t mean to lose those forty bucks. And I’d take it away from her in less than five minutes. I couldn’t disappoint her — it was rich!

“Sew away!” I said, handing her the roll. “And don’t forget the rubbing part!”

She grabbed the money with her right hand and then swaps it with her left for the thread and needle. Throwing back Red’s coat, she drops a roll of something into the inside pocket and begins sewing for dear life. I never seen any woman’s fingers fly so fast.

Taking a squint out, I saw the man what I took to be the sheriff stepping up to the chief. I always thought I’d like to see just how one of those rube sheriffs made a pinch, and here was my chance. I’d lay quiet for a minute or so longer and see just what he’d do.

You see, Rita had just snapped off the needle and was starting on a lot of queer lingo. She hadn’t got to the rubbing part yet. And it was Spring!

The lingo didn’t last so long, but the rubbing would have lasted longer if I hadn’t seen that gray-eyed skirt hanger starting to walk toward the sheriff.

I had to have a little credit in the pinch, seeing how I’d spotted the bird and worked out of Rita, between rubbings, that he’d only been in the camp for three days.