"It is well; I go. But listen to me, Hyde Stockhausen; mark what I say. Only three times shall you see me again in life. But each one of those times you shall have cause to remember; and after the last of them you will not need to see me more." It was a strange threat. That she made it, Duffham could, to this day, corroborate. Pulling her red cloak about her shoulders, she went swiftly through the gate, and disappeared within the opposite coppice. Hyde smiled; his good humour was returning to him. One can be brave enough when an enemy turns tail. "Idiotic old Egyptian!" he exclaimed lightly. "What on earth ever made her take the fancy into her head, that I knew what became of Kettie, I can't imagine. I wonder, Duffham, some of you people in authority here don't get her confined as a lunatic!" "We must first of all find that she is a lunatic," was Duffham's dry rejoinder. "Why, what else is she?" "Not that." "She is; and a dangerous one," retorted Hyde. "Nonsense, man! Gipsies have queer ways and notions; and--and--are not to be judged altogether as other people," added the doctor, finishing off (as it struck me) with different words from those he had been about to say. "Good-night; and don't take any more of that champagne." Hyde returned indoors, and we walked away, not seeing a sign of the red cloak anywhere. "I must say I should not like to be attacked in this manner, were I Hyde," I remarked to Duffham. "How obstinate the old gipsy is!" "Ah," replied Duffham. "I'd sooner believe her than him." The words surprised me, and I turned to him quickly. "Why do you say that, sir?" "Because I do say it, Johnny," was the unsatisfactory answer. "And now good-evening to you, lad, for I must send the physic in." "Just a word, please, Mr. Duffham. Do you know where that poor Kettie is?--and did you know that Hyde Stockhausen stole her?" "No, to both your questions, Johnny Ludlow." * * * * * Everybody liked Hyde's wife. A fragile girl with a weak voice, who looked as if a strong wind would blow her away. Duffham feared she was not strong enough to make old days. Virginia Cottage flourished. Parson Hyde had died and left all his fortune to Hyde: who had now nothing to do but take care of his wife and his money, and enjoy life. Before the next summer came round, Hyde had a son and heir. A fine little shaver, with blue eyes like Hyde's, and good lungs. His mother was a long while getting about again: and then she looked like a shadow, and had a short, hacking kind of cough. Hyde wore a grave face at times, and would say he wished Mabel could get strong. But Hyde was regarded with less favour than formerly. People did not scruple to call him "villain." And one Sunday, when Mr. Holland told us in his sermon that man's heart was deceitful above all things and desperately wicked, the congregation wondered whether he meant it especially for Stockhausen. For the truth had come out.