Clergy -- Fiction; Country life -- Scotland -- Fiction; Deception -- Fiction; Romanies -- Fiction; Scotland -- Fiction
"You can go," said Halliwell; and the policemen withdrew slowly,
eyeing their prisoner doubtfully until the door closed. Then the
officer wheeled round languidly, expecting to find the Egyptian
gaunt and muscular.
"Now then," he drawled, "why--By Jove!"
The gallant soldier was as much taken aback as if he had turned to
find a pistol at his ear. He took his feet off the table. Yet he
only saw the gypsy's girlish figure in its red and green, for she
had covered her face with her hands. She was looking at him
intently between her fingers, but he did not know this. All he did
want to know just then was what was behind the hands.
Before he spoke again she had perhaps made up her mind about him,
for she began to sob bitterly. At the same time she slipped a
finger over her ring.
"Why don't you look at me?" asked Halliwell, selfishly.
"I daurna."
"Am I so fearsome?"
"You're a sojer, and you would shoot me like a craw."
Halliwell laughed, and taking her wrists in his hands, uncovered
her face.
"Oh, by Jove!" he said again, but this time to himself.
As for the Egyptian, she slid the ring into her pocket, and fell
back before the officer's magnificence.
"Oh," she cried, "is all sojers like you?"
There was such admiration in her eyes that it would have been
self-contempt to doubt her. Yet having smiled complacently,
Halliwell became uneasy.
"Who on earth are you?" he asked, finding it wise not to look her
in the face. "Why do you not answer me more quickly?"
"Dinna be angry at that, captain," the Egyptian implored. "I
promised my mither aye to count twenty afore I spoke, because she
thocht I was ower glib. Captain, how is't that you're so fleid to
look at me?"
Thus put on his mettle, Halliwell again faced her, with the result
that his question changed to "Where did you get those eyes?" Then
was he indignant with himself.
"What I want to know," he explained severely, "is how you were
able to acquaint the Thrums people with our movements? That you
must tell me at once, for the sheriff blames my soldiers. Come
now, no counting twenty!"
He was pacing the room now, and she had her face to herself. It
said several things, among them that the officer evidently did not
like this charge against his men.
"Does the shirra blame the sojers?" exclaimed this quick-witted
Egyptian. "Weel, that cows, for he has nane to blame but himsel'."
"What!" cried Halliwell, delighted. "It was the sheriff who told
tales? Answer me. You are counting a hundred this time."
Perhaps the gypsy had two reasons for withholding her answer. If
so, one of them was that as the sheriff had told nothing, she had
a story to make up. The other was that she wanted to strike a
bargain with the officer.
"If I tell you," she said eagerly, "will you set me free?"
"I may ask the sheriff to do so."
"But he mauna see me," the Egyptian said in distress. "There's
reasons, captain."
"Why, surely you have not been before him on other occasions,"
said Halliwell, surprised.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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