"I should think a little of that went a long way," observed Alan Lindsay, "what more would you have? He is not an ordinary magic wallah I can see, who promises jewels and lovers. He takes himself seriously." The Fakir now beckoned solemnly to Mrs. Gordon, who, with a half apologetic laugh, came forward. He looked her in the face with his burning eyes, and said in a harsh voice: "Where love should be—is emptiness. Where love should not be—lo! there it is." Angel glanced involuntarily at Mr. Lindsay; he had grown curiously white. "A shade cometh—I see no more." And again he dismissed his victim with a profound salaam. "Dear me, what rubbish it all is," protested Mrs. Gordon, as she took her seat with a somewhat heightened colour. "He is like Micaiah, the son of Imlah, who prophesied evil things; see, he is beckoning Mr. Lindsay. I wonder what terrible message he will deliver to him?" "Lo, here are brains," announced the seer in his sonorous Hindustani,—understood of all but the little spinster, "much riches. A heart—some talk—sore trouble. Wisdom and honour come when the head is white, and the heart is dead." "Now for me," cried Miss Cuffe, rubbing her hands gleefully, and ignorantly rushing on her fate. "I declare I am quite nervous. I cannot bear his eyes. Mr. Lindsay, do please stand close beside me and interpret." Then she beamed coquettishly on the grim native, as if she would exhort good fortune by her smiles. He looked at her, with fierce contempt, and said, "Lo, 'tis a weakling, Miss Sahib, thou art a fool; the ring belongs to the tall sad girl, with the hungry heart, and the daring spirit. Such a ring will never be thine. I smell death." "What does he say?" cried Miss Cuffe, as soon as she was dismissed. "Do tell me at once, Mr. Lindsay; I hope it was something good?" After an almost imperceptible pause, Mr. Lindsay replied, "He said the ring was not yours, it belonged to Mrs. Gascoigne. I think he was annoyed because you tried to get a rise out of him—he wouldn't work properly. I shouldn't wonder if he had cast the evil eye upon the whole lot of us." "What a wretch!" she protested. "I am so sorry I asked you to send for him. I never dreamt that he would be a repulsive old skeleton dealing bad luck all round. It has not been such fun after all. Oh, here is Mr. Gordon! Oh, Mr. Gordon," she cried, "do come and have your fortune told;" and her little hard eyes glittered. Miss Cuffe did not like the Commissioner, and saw no reason why he should be spared, when misfortune was being dealt out. "Give him ten rupees and he will make you a Viceroy," suggested the opium wallah with a laugh. "Where is the fellow? Has he gone?" Yes, he was nowhere to be seen; he had vanished mysteriously and without payment. By Mr. Gordon's orders, the Fakir was searched for, high and low; he desired to question him respecting a certain peculiar murder case, but all search proved unavailing; the soothsayer had disappeared. CHAPTER XXV