"Here is a sign of my feelings," said Miss Greeby, handing over a sovereign, for she rightly judged that the gypsy would only appreciate this outward symbol of sympathy. "Now, what do you know of Pine's murder?" Mother Cockleshell, who was busy tying up the sovereign in a corner of her respectable shawl, after biting it to make sure it was current gold, looked up with a vacant expression. "Murder, my lady, and what should I know of that?" Miss Greeby looked at her straightly. "What does Chaldea know of it?" A vicious pair of devils looked out of the decent widow's eyes in a moment, and at once she became the Romany. "Hai! She knows, does she, the drab! I hope to see her hanged." "For what?" "For killing of Hearne, may his bones rest sweetly." Miss Greeby suppressed an exclamation. "She accuses Lady Agnes of laying a trap by writing a letter, and says that Mr. Lambert fired the shot." "Avali! Avali!" Mother Cockleshell nodded vigorously, but did not interrupt her preparations for departure. "That she would say, since she loves the Gorgio, and hates the rani. A rope round her neck to set the rye free to make Chaldea--my curses on her--his true wife." "She couldn't have fired the shot herself, you know," went on Miss Greeby in a musing manner. "For then she would remove an obstacle to Mr. Lambert marrying Lady Agnes." "Blessings on her for a kind, Gentile lady," said Gentilla, piously, and looking more respectable than ever, since the lurking devils had disappeared. "But Chaldea is artful, and knows the rye." "What do you mean?" "This, my lady. Hearne, who was the Gorgio Pine, had the angel to wife, but he did not hope to live long because of illness." Miss Greeby nodded. "Consumption, Pine told me." "If he had died natural," pursued Mother Cockleshell, pulling hard at a strap, "maybe the Gentile lady would have married the golden rye, whom she loves. But by the violent death, Chaldea has tangled up both in her knots, and if they wed she will make trouble." "So she says. But can she?" "Hai! But she's a deep one, ma'am, believe me when I say so," Mother Cockleshell nodded sapiently. "But foolish trouble has she given herself, when the death of Hearne natural, or by the pistol-shot would stop the marriage." "What do you mean?" inquired Miss Greeby once more. "You Gentiles are fools," said Gentilla, politely. "For you put other things before true love. Hearne, as Pine, had much gold, and that he left to his wife should she not marry the golden rye." "How do you know that?" "Chaldea was told so by the dead, and told me, my lady. Now the angel of the big house would give up the gold to marry the rye, for her heart is all for him. 'But,' says he, and tell me if I'm wrong. Says he, 'No. If I make you my romi that would beggar you and fair it would not be, for a Romany rye to do!' So, my lady, the red gold parts them, because it's red money." "Red money?"