“Oh, I know all about that,” Neale returned. “But this Queen Alma was some ancient lady. She lived three hundred years ago.”
“Goodness! How you talk, Neale O’Neil. Of course I don’t know anything about such a person.”
“Those Gypsies you were with never talked of her?”
“I didn’t hear them. I never learned much of the language they use among themselves.”
“Well, we got a tip,” said the boy, “that the bracelet belonged to this Queen Alma, and that there is a row among the Gypsies over the ownership of it.”
“I am telling you. We heard so. Say, is that Big Jim a Spaniard? A Spanish Gypsy, I mean?”
“I don’t know. Maybe. He looks like a Spaniard, or a Mexican, or an Italian.”
“Yes. I thought he did. He comes of some Latin race, anyway. What is his last name?”
“Why—I—I am not sure that I know.”